It started with a body. Well, half a body. Actually, two halves of two different bodies placed precisely on the border between France and the UK, right in the middle of the Channel Tunnel.
If that sounds familiar, you’ve probably seen The Bridge (Bron/Broen), the Scandi-noir masterpiece that basically birthed a whole genre of "detectives from two different cultures have to work together" tropes. But here’s the thing: The Tunnel isn’t just some lazy, English-language copy-paste job. While it follows the same skeletal structure of the Danish-Swedish original, it evolved into something much weirder, darker, and more politically charged than people give it credit for.
Honestly, it’s one of the few remakes that justifies its own existence.
Usually, when Americans or Brits try to remake a foreign hit, they strip away the soul and leave a glossy, hollow shell. Look at the US version of The Bridge set on the El Paso/Juarez border—it had its moments, but it fizzled out fast. The Tunnel lasted three full seasons. It found its own voice. It leaned into the claustrophobia of that 31-mile stretch of concrete under the sea and used it as a metaphor for the increasingly messy relationship between Britain and Europe.
The Odd Couple That Actually Worked
You can’t talk about The Tunnel without talking about Stephen Dillane and Clémence Poésy.
Dillane plays Karl Roebuck, the British detective. He’s a bit of a shaggy dog—charming, slightly cynical, a father to many kids, and very, very English. On the other side, you have Poésy as Elise Wassermann. She’s the French counterpart. She’s cold. She’s blunt. She likely has undiagnosed Asperger’s, though the show rarely uses the label, preferring to let her actions speak for themselves.
The chemistry here isn't romantic. It's better than that. It’s a slow-burn mutual respect that feels earned.
- Karl: "Why do you always tell the truth? It’s very annoying."
- Elise: "Why do you lie? It’s very inefficient."
That’s basically their entire vibe.
What makes it work is that they don’t try to fix each other. In so many police procedurals, the "quirky" lead eventually softens up and becomes "normal" because of their partner. The Tunnel avoids that trap. Elise stays Elise. Karl stays Karl. They just learn how to speak each other's language, both literally and figuratively.
Why the Setting Matters More Than You Think
The Channel Tunnel is a feat of engineering, but in this show, it feels like a tomb.
📖 Related: Emily Piggford Movies and TV Shows: Why You Recognize That Face
The lighting is always slightly sickly—lots of yellows, greys, and cold blues. It captures that specific "North of France/South of England" gloom that anyone who has spent time in Calais or Folkestone knows well. It’s damp. It’s windy. It’s miserable.
Season one followed the "Truth Terrorist" plot from the original Scandi series, but even then, it felt different because of the specific geopolitical tensions involved. They leaned hard into the migrant crisis in Calais. They looked at the class divide in Britain. They didn't shy away from the fact that these two countries, despite being separated by a mere 20 miles of water, often hate each other's guts.
By the time season two (Sabotage) and season three (Vengeance) rolled around, the writers threw the original blueprints out the window. They went for original stories.
The second season kicks off with a plane crashing into the English Channel. It’s massive. It’s cinematic. It deals with child abduction, biochemical warfare, and deep-state conspiracies. It moved away from the "serial killer with a message" trope and turned into a sprawling political thriller.
The Politics of the Chunnel
You have to remember when this was airing.
The show ran from 2013 to 2018. That’s the exact window where the UK was tearing itself apart over Brexit. Watching The Tunnel now feels like watching a time capsule of a relationship ending. The friction between the Gendarmerie and the North Kent Police isn't just about jurisdiction; it’s about the fundamental disagreement on how society should function.
In season three, they tackled the refugee crisis head-on.
It was uncomfortable. It showed the "Jungle" camp in Calais. It showed the desperation of people trying to cross the border. It wasn't always subtle—the show has the subtlety of a sledgehammer sometimes—but it was honest. It used the framework of a crime drama to talk about things that the evening news usually sanitizes.
Beyond the Scandi-Noir Shadow
A lot of critics dismissed the first season as a "karaoke version" of The Bridge.
👉 See also: Elaine Cassidy Movies and TV Shows: Why This Irish Icon Is Still Everywhere
That’s unfair.
Sure, the first few episodes are beat-for-beat the same. But the tone is distinct. Where the original was icy and atmospheric, The Tunnel feels more visceral. There’s a British grit to it. It’s less about the "coolness" of the crime and more about the exhaustion of the people solving it.
Stephen Dillane won an International Emmy for his performance, and he deserved it. He brings a weariness to Karl that feels incredibly real. He’s a guy who just wants to go home and have a pint, but he keeps getting sucked into these horrific, soul-crushing cases.
And then there's the music. Dominik Scherrer’s score is haunting. It uses these repetitive, mechanical sounds that mimic the rhythmic thrum of a train in a tunnel. It gets under your skin. It makes you feel the pressure of the ocean above your head.
Is it Worth a Rewatch?
Honestly? Yes.
If you’ve only seen The Bridge, you might think you know where The Tunnel is going. You don't. Especially not after the first ten episodes. The way it handles the finality of season three is bold. It doesn't give you a neat, happy ending. It gives you something much more somber and fitting.
It’s a show about boundaries—national boundaries, personal boundaries, and the lines we cross when we’re desperate.
How to Approach The Tunnel Today
If you're diving in for the first time, or circling back for a rewatch, here is how to get the most out of it:
Watch it for the chemistry, not just the mystery. The "whodunnit" is often the least interesting part of the show. The real meat is in the car rides between Karl and Elise. Pay attention to the way their body language shifts over the three seasons. It's a masterclass in subtle acting.
✨ Don't miss: Ebonie Smith Movies and TV Shows: The Child Star Who Actually Made It Out Okay
Don't compare it constantly to The Bridge. It’s a losing game. They are different beasts. The Bridge is a surgical strike; The Tunnel is a messy, sprawling epic about two fading powers trying to maintain order.
Stick through the first season. If you find the first few episodes too similar to the original, push through. By the middle of season one, the British and French writers (including Ben Richards) start taking the characters in directions the original never went.
Pay attention to the background. The show is filled with commentary on the European Union, the Eurotunnel's financial struggles, and the cultural divide between "London" and the rest of the UK. It’s surprisingly prescient.
Actionable Insights for Fans of the Genre
If you’ve finished The Tunnel and you’re looking for that same hit of cross-border tension and complex character work, there are a few specific paths you should take.
Track down the original: Bron/Broen. If by some miracle you haven't seen the Swedish-Danish original, do it immediately. It’s the gold standard for a reason. Kim Bodnia and Sofia Helin have a totally different dynamic than Dillane and Poésy.
Explore "Pagan Peak" (Der Pass). This is the German-Austrian reimagining of the same "body on the border" concept. It is arguably the best version of the story outside of the original. It’s dark, folk-horror adjacent, and visually stunning. It moves away from the tunnel/bridge setting and into the snowy Alps.
Check out "Giri/Haji" on Netflix. If what you loved about The Tunnel was the culture clash and the bilingual storytelling, this show is your next obsession. It splits its time between London and Tokyo. It’s stylish, heartbreaking, and features some of the best cinematography on television.
Look into the work of Ben Richards. He was the lead writer for The Tunnel. His ability to weave politics into drama is top-tier. Check out his other work like Spooks (MI-5) or Showtrial if you want more of that high-stakes British procedural feel.
The Tunnel remains a standout example of how to do a remake right. It respected the source material enough to keep the core hook, but it had the guts to grow into its own weird, bilingual, gritty self. It’s a story about two people standing on the edge of a crumbling relationship between two nations, trying to find a bit of truth in the dark.
It's 24 episodes of television that actually respect the viewer's intelligence. No hand-holding. No easy answers. Just two detectives, a lot of coffee, and a very long, very dark hole under the sea.