ITV’s two-part drama about the case of murdered 20-year-old Banaz Mahmod is a chilling reminder of how society failed to protect a young woman from harm
It’s DCI Caroline Goode’s first day in the job. In the time-honoured tradition of sexism in the workplace, her big promotion begins with a good-natured ribbing by the young male DS in her team. “You should show a bit more respect to your new boss,” bats back Goode, played by Keeley Hawes. “First job, day one,” says DS Andy Craig as they walk up a grim corridor to an office full of bulky computer monitors and predominantly white officers. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.” Goode firmly replies: “They’re all good ones.”
This is how Honour (ITV) opens. The lens is tightly focused not on the real-life case that follows – the rape, torture, and murder of 20-year-old Banaz Mahmod in 2006 by five members of her family – but on Goode’s laudable resolve to bring Mahmod’s killers to justice. For this, Honour has been criticised – which is understandable. A drama about “honour-based” violence set in the community and made by those who understand it has yet to be made, and 100% deserves to be greenlit. That doesn’t invalidate Honour, but it does raise the stakes on what we expect of it.
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