Matters are afoot once again in Murdoch Mysteries. Dastardly deeds have been committed in Victorian-era Toronto, and it’s once again the burden of Yannick Bisson’s Det. Murdoch to solve the latest mystery. The decomposed remains of a body have been found by the lake’s shore, and they’ve been there a good 30 years, Det. Murdoch estimates. There’s good news, though. The fellow’s pocket flash has held up well. It’s a five ounce flask, and yet there are oily four ounces of gin in it. Scoff not, oh ye of little faith: This is what is known in the trade as a Clue.

“Oh my,” Det. Murdoch says, when he discovers what’s inside.

Oh my, indeed.

(“Indeed,” as faithful followers of one of Canadian TV’s most enduring, and endearing, dramas knows, is one of Det. Murdoch’s favourite expressions.)

And so begins a diverting tale that mixes mystery and history in an engaging but relatively harmless way. Almost any description of the plot would spoil details that are meant to be a surprise. Suffice it to say that the story involves an old map, a letter signed by Canada’s first Prime Minister, Sir John A. Macdonald, and no small amount of subterfuge and scheming by those dastardly Americans who, it would appear, are itching for a rematch of 1812. Peter Keleghan returns as Terrance Meyers, Murdoch’s arch-nemesis, a career spy skilled in the ways of tradecraft, and there’s a timely intervention by Canada’s then-Prime Minister, Wilfrid Laurier.

Yes, it all sounds frightfully silly, but one of Murdoch Mysteries‘ simple pleasures is the way its makers have recreated a time and place in history — and, more importantly, the mores and attitudes of the times — and made it seem believable.

There’s another reason to watch Wednesday: a quirk of casting.

The appearance of Prime Minister Stephen Harper in a cameo role — as a lowly desk sergeant no less — is both a fancy piece of stunt casting and a clever ruse. The story is about this country’s founding father, after all, and the prime ministers who followed, and Harper’s scene fits: It doesn’t feel grafted on.

The episode was written with a kind of stolid assurance by Murdoch veteran Paul Aitken and directed with a keen eye for period detail by John L’Ecuyer. Murdoch Mysteries‘ subject may be murder most foul, but it’s never been the kind of thriller you have to hide the kiddies from.

As for the present-day Prime Minister’s acting ability, it’s not giving anything away to say he’s no William Hurt — but then he isn’t meant to be. It’s just a fun, low-key cameo, with a couple of crisp, witty lines. There’s nothing overtly political about it, though Harper’s critics will no doubt find cause to read all manner of conspiracies into it.

If nothing else, Harper’s moment — about halfway through the hour — proves that the arts do so create jobs.

   

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