The suspicion that wicked men roam the bayou and backblocks of Louisiana oozes from the new drama True Detective (8.30pm, Tuesdays, SoHo) like blood from a fresh corpse. Men talk in hushed voices. Roads are deserted. The air looks unwell. And a ghastly sun seems to hang its head in shame at the evil that men do etc etc.
You get the idea: HBO's newest, most-hyped show is yet another of those highly stylised Southern Gothic nightmares that America's cable channels now seem to specialise in, from American Horror Story to The Walking Dead to Treme to Hatfields & McCoys.
But it would be fair to say that True Detective thinks more of itself than being just another horror story from the Deep South. One suspects the show's creator and writer, Nic Pizzolatto sees himself as part of a much older and more impressive tradition, that his eight-part mini series is more The Brothers Karamazov (think lengthy meditations on God, morality, free will) than Banshee (Antony Starr trying to look hot while fighting with his shirt off).
The first episode of True Detective opened in the present but quickly flashed back to the mid-1990s when a woman's body had been found near a burned cornfield. She was naked, on her knees and tied. There was a weird symbol painted on her back and she had been crowned with deer antlers. Around her were odd little teepee things made from twigs and twine. Creepy. Detectives Martin Hart (Woody Harrelson) and Rustin "Rust" Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) - teamed for just three months - soon discovered the dead woman was a hooker called Dora Kelly Lange and Cohle suspected the ritualistic nature of the killing meant the murderer had killed before or would kill again.
In the flashes forward Hart and Cohle, now long since out of the Louisiana State Police, were being interviewed separately (they've long since fallen out) about the case by cops investigating a recent murder with similar hallmarks. There are possible links to a missing child who was never found.