... It doesn't quite work, because it doesn't quite disguise the fact that beneath the razzle-dazzle, every character apart from the main two is tissue-paper thin. This is particularly true of the female parts (Frances McDormand as the narrating voice of God aside), a historical weakness in the fantasy genre you might have expected Gaiman to take the opportunity to shore up. When both Crowley and Aziraphale are offscreen, things fall flat. In fact, a distinct sense that everyone is just marking time until they come back creeps in (albeit alleviated by the occasional appearance of Jon Hamm as Gabriel, nailing every fleeting moment he has as Aziraphale's shit-eating, Armageddon-happy boss). ... Good Omens was brought to the screen – after languishing in development hell for decades, gaining the reputation of an "unfilmable" book – in fulfilment of Pratchett's last wishes. It is perhaps an understandable sense of duty that has prevented Gaiman from making as free and as fresh an adaptation as he might have under other circumstances – fleshing out minor figures, and bringing the themes alive with more modern touches than Crowley's devilment now including the invention of the selfie. At the same time, his central involvement as writer, adapter and executive producer has, inevitably, diluted and displaced the Pterryness (which is always a more gleeful thing than the Gaimanesque). It is a shame that Good Omens' advent on to our screens at last feels like such a wasted opportunity.