Tennis drama doesn't serve up an ace

Living in that subgenre are the series that have a premise intriguing enough to make you wonder how it all ends but, as the same time don't interest you enough to watch all the way through to see how it ends.

That's the fate for this tennis series that focuses on fallen star Justine Pearce and her former coach Glenn Lapthorn.

When an injury derails her career, Lapthorn finds another protege and takes him to the top. Then, when he returns to her world - an ageing tennis academy. Pearce accuses her former coach of repeated sexual assault.

It throws up some interesting questions; did he do it? Is she jealous of his success and wants to get back at him? Or, as one character suggests, was she in love and has imagined it all?

As much as I wanted answers to those questions, I couldn't find a connection that made me willing to trawl through all six episodes to find out.

It might end up being a mistake for Seven to air this during the Olympics, because everyone will be distracted and miss what is a finely-written drama.

Dr Lucinda Edwards is in charge on the emergency ward and the decisions she makes lead to the death of a patient and a formal investigation.

Halfway through the first episode she realises that some of the other staff on that night appear to be throwing her under a bus in order to save themselves. Or maybe her own memory of events isn't accurate.

When you have a sibling famous for their work in a certain field, it's always a good idea to find something else to do.

Inevitably you're going to be compared to the much better sibling - and who wants that?

It's a lesson no-one told Marcel Theroux. You might have heard of his younger brother Louis, who has made a name for himself making documentaries that purport to be about someone else, but are really about him.

Here Marcel investigates the unsolved murders of four women in the 1970s. One of those was Eve Stratford, who had worked as a Playboy Bunny in the newly-established London Playboy Club.

Marcel criticises the media of the day for focusing their attention on the Playboy Bunny hook, while somehow overlooking the fact that his own documentary does exactly the same thing. Just look at what he called it.

The series is chock-full of the cliches so overused by his brother, such as talking about yourself while the vision shows you walking around or pretending to research.

And then there's the pointless dead-ends that are prefaced with "was so-and-so the killer?". The answer there is "No, but I'm going waste 10 minutes of your time talking about them anyway".

And he doesn't forget to include a bulletin board with photos and news clippings linked by red string. And my God I wish I was joking about that.

It's almost as though he's tried to make a parody of a true-crime show - which is so not what the subject of four murders of women needed.