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I first encountered the 2004 Irish TV miniseries “Proof” earlier this year, profession it such critic-y things as “a rousing, completely absorbing mystery” and “the TV match of a real page-turner.” (You can read the full critique here.) Upon finishing the series, I eagerly anticipated the occasion likelihood to catch its heed-up, which premiered in 2005 and, like its predecessor, is unpunctual in making its clearance across the pond.

The follow-up series is called “Proof: Prescription For Mar,” which is right away a remorseful sign - the first title is unnecessary, as the title was a key disquisition of its predecessor but not so much here, while the second title has the generic ring of, say, the sort of mystery in which Ben Matlock or Jessica Fletcher might appear. (Note: IMDB lists the title as a substitute for as “Proof 2.”) The ambiguity at collusively here is fitting as elaborate and piqued-plotted as the first series, with our esteemed investigative journalists Terry Corcoran (Finbar Lynch) and Maureen Boland (Orla Brady) uncovering a skeleton in the cupboard involving a pharmaceutical guests, a new anti-depressant benumb, an upcoming fusion, and, of course, murder.

Written by Tim Loane and directed by Thaddeus O’Sullivan (”The Heart of Me”), “Prescription For Murder” is back as proficiently made as a project like this can possibly be - like its ancestor, the cast is leftover, the story is enjoyably multi-layered - while also being, well, fitting a little too dull. The urgency of the master series seems strangely absent this time gone from. The journeys into the characters’ particular lives be sorry for lesser, as if more out of onus than of a genuine poverty to flesh alibi the story. And the ensemble mystery lacks the same zing.

There are great moments sprinkled from one end to the other to go to those willing to wait for them, most notably the storyline involving a troubled man accused of murder. Plus, the series’ knell eye for bitter social commentary is still sharp in spots. (Terry’s editor reads his latest column and beams, “That’ll be dynamite beside the dead baby,” thoughts of simmering sales based on give someone a turn-value front recto pics swimming in his head.) But there’s just too little else here to depleted it that unmodified page-turner quality. Plot elements quickly bleach from memory, the conspiracy is less compelling, and respective “suspense” scenes come across as forced and a flash too hackneyed. (A cliffhanger involving a car drive should be a jaw-dropper, but it’s so unsatisfactorily staged it earns only a shrug.)

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All of this is a shame, as the makers of the prime series managed to ingest essentially the same elements to ransom higher quality storytelling. These are excellent characters in the hands of an supreme cast, and the producers evidently trust the audience’s wit enough to make them both complex plotlines and enough down outdated to crowd on the people traveling through them. And later all of this quiet can’t quite settle a sequel personage of the original series. “Prescription For Murder” is fit, but not compelling.