The Sister

As the catalyst of drama, Bob is a clever invention, and a frightening one. And he helps carry “The Sister” — an imperfect but pleasantly unnerving piece of work — over the line into worthwhile.

“The Sister” plays out the possible ruination of Nathan effectively and, yes, enjoyably. ... [Tovey] brings a boyishness, almost an innocence, to Nathan that makes you want better for him, regardless of what happened that night in the woods. You can see his terrified thoughts pass behind his wide eyes, even when his face is still and his affect low. You also root for him because Carvel is so good at being a menace.

By the time we arrive at the midpoint of the miniseries, things are chugging along as pleasingly and efficiently as you would expect from the Luther creator Neil Cross. ... A large part of this success must be laid at Tovey’s feet. His Everyman, suffering as an essentially good person trapped in a worsening hell not of his own making, is absolutely agonising.

If the TV adaptation goes a bit slack near the end, just when you want the screws to tighten, it’s worth seeing for the performances. And for this: The supernatural element is artfully realized in a selective, effective handful of sound cues and visual strokes, among them a voice from the grave, recorded on a static-ridden CD. “The Sister” may be familiar, but it’s rarely obvious.

We trust Neil Cross knows how to tease out the truth of the story without annoying viewers. But the first episode just doesn’t give us a whole lot of confidence that we won’t get more annoyed the more the truth is teased out.

The Sister carries itself with an air of deliberate, somber gravity which implies that it’s unaware it’s treading banal genre territory; every one of its elements has been seen before, and in more surprising and novel form. Ensuing revelations about Bob are equally hackneyed and preposterous, and in its closing segments, the show derives drama from illogical motivations that further make one want to see each and every character get their just desserts.

Perhaps the most generous reading that could be afforded The Sister’s thick padding and endless fakeouts is that it’s a throwback to “background TV” — programming that’s written for only sporadic attention. That would at least explain the bare-bones plotting and the irksome repetition of certain lines of dialogue. But even then, Cross’ scripts feel like miscalculation after miscalculation.