That prolific writer in the Posse McMillan crew, Kent Harrington, asked if I’d seen Monsieur Spade yet. Not yet, but give me a day or two free and I’ll binge my way through. (Meanwhile, I have binged the two seasons of The Tourist, and the French Furies, and The Gentlemen.)

Since Kent seemed interested, I told him if he had some commentary to toss online, These Mean Streets stood ready.

(Keep in mind that Kent is big into France. A few of his first editions appeared in French — and still may be only available in translation. You may remember that awhile back I kicked around San Francisco with Kent and his translator.)

Here’s Kent:

There is no doubt that Clive Owen is a great actor and many fans of his will tune into Monsieur Spade because of Owen. And they should. He doesn’t disappoint as expat Sam Spade, the famous San Francisco detective, now living in Southern France in the late 50s early 60s.

But for crime fiction aficionados — especially hard-boiled fans — is it worth hours out of your life?

Short answer: Yes.

I think so and for this reason:

For a long time now crime fiction has been a watered-down version of what the great crime writers, including Dashiell Hammett, produced. Hardboiled crime fiction in books and movies became, like much of American entertainment, painfully derivative. Or if you are more plain speaking, embarrassingly simple minded. (Clancy v. Le Carre).

Most crime fiction/movies today are careful-not-to be provocative or important. If the Superman comic book character (written by two Jewish teenagers) was, in the 1930s, an anti-fascist, protecting us against the very real Nazi threat, today he would be simply treated as a studio executive’s ticket to prime Malibu real estate. Not important.

Great crime fiction, and Noir literature, its parent, got its power from muscular commentaries on society. Gustave Flaubert’s noir novel, Madame Bovary, wasn’t simple minded to say the least. It was this commentary that made the works powerful. They were usually progressive — but not always — in as much as they sought to portray modernity, especially the power of money and the reality of class conflict, from the working stiff’s point of view.

But they also could, and did, deal with Capitalism’s need for Colonial power and possession. “East of Suez” is after all more than a Ska song. I was pleased to see that Monsieur Spade deals with the French colonial war in Algeria, starting in 1954, head on. (It may have been De Gaul’s undoing.)

The show’s writers also deal with the way national intelligence agencies, in this case French, were becoming very important players and unseen movers after the Second World War.

And we know these same intelligence services could go rogue and be very nasty.

Here is a quote from the famous French novel, The Centurions, about the infamous French paratroopers,1st Foreign Parachute Regiment, who fought in Algeria — and before that, in Vietnam. Many were recruited from French prisons and were former French SS types, who had fought for Germany during the war and offered a choice: rot in jail or go to Vietnam and fight. (Read: The Captive Dreamer by Christian De La Maziere. A firsthand account of a French SS officer who was given that choice.)

The Centurions:

“I’d like to have two armies: one for display, with lovely guns, tanks, little soldiers, fanfares, staffs, distinguished and doddering generals, and dear little regimental officers . . . an army that would be shown for a modest fee on every fairground in the country. The other would be the real one, composed entirely of young enthusiasts in camouflage battledress, who would not be put on display but . . . to whom all sorts of tricks would be taught. That’s the army in which I should like to fight.”

The Espiocracy, and their colonial wars, are what Le Carre and others have tried to warn us about. The brutality displayed by both sides in the Algerian struggle for independence is the series’ backstory and gives it a powerful theme and makes it interesting and the narrative believable. (Ukraine anyone?) The series is much more than about bodies dropping, or cool fedoras. Yes, Sam Spade parachutes into southern France, so to speak, but we believe it.

Is there anything I didn’t like about the show? Yes. The pilot is weak at first, unable to deal with Sam in France — they tried too hard. I think the show runners, who brought us the wonderful Queen’s Gambit, talented as they are, dropped the ball there.

The ending doesn’t match up to the interior of the series either. But the parts in between these mal pasos are at times perfect and always entertaining.

Spade is the wise-cracking hard guy that we expect. The customary Spadian bon mots serve to juxtapose him to the French, who just don’t care or get him. The actors, many are French, are wonderful and pull you in. By the way, French TV series, like Spiral and The French Village, are truly great TV series.

If you are any kind of Francophile, as I admit I am, you will enjoy Monsieur Spade’s location which makes you want to jump on a plane and lose yourself in the South of France.

And like Spade, dive into an elegant swimming pool, butt naked, and forget where you came from.