Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
Sorry, Scully and Mulder. You don’t have a monopoly on investigating freaky unexplained phenomena anymore. Not even on Fox.
The network’s most famous FBI agents have frequently chased down aliens, monsters and all manner of supernatural beasties as part of their X-Files protocol (both in the original series and the more recent reboot), often dodging operatives within their own government to do so. But maybe that Cigarette Smoking Man simply wanted to save the taxpayers some money. Turns out, there’s already a super-secret agency tasked with uncovering and debunking all manner of creepy, crazy things: the Office of Extra-Scientific Investigation, surrepticiously headquartered in a wire-hanger factory.
But while the truth may be out there, you won’t necessarily find it on this half-hour comedy.
The Office has hired two oddballs as its odd-couple lead investigators. Max Jennifer is the true believer of the pair, and with good reason: The former professor believes his wife was kidnapped by aliens, resulting in a prompt eviction from Stanford for his, er, unorthodox beliefs.
Leroy Wright believes in the supernatural, too. That is, he believes that The CW has a show called Supernatural: He can find proof right in his handy-dandy television guide. But proof of honest-to-goodness supernatural stuff? That fantastical flotsam Max believes in? Leroy’s not buying it just yet. It’s not as if Leroy hasn’t been exposed to plenty of weird happenings: As a former mall cop, he’s seen things, man. But those things, for Leroy, don’t necessarily suggest demon possession is a real thing or that aliens are body-snatching folks right and left. No offense, Max.
Still, Ava Lafrey, who heads the Office of Extra-Scientific Investigation, believes it’s better to be safe than sorry, especially if all these mysterious … things lead to a nefarious entity or agency that could obliterate all of humanity on this world and perhaps all other worlds in the infinite multiverse! Because, really, why should climate change have all the fun?
Like Max and Leroy’s intended quarry, Ghosted is a little weird. Part workplace buddy comedy, part X-Files homage and part fever-dream-of-an-11-year-old-sci-fi-fan-who-eats-waaay-too-much-sugary-cereal, this Fox comedy is as frenetic and as hard to pin down as your average leprechaun.
Yes, the episodes can be funny. Comedy is what sitcoms are all about, after all. But most sitcoms also have a general sense of coherency, too—a value that Ghosted places, seemingly, a lower priority on.
Naturally—or, rather, supernaturally—Ghosted dabbles in the occult and all manner of allegedly spiritual phenomena. We see and hear about (potential) spirits and demons and whatnot, and the Office’s official seal is surrounded with vaguely occult symbols. And while the show certainly doesn’t take any of this stuff seriously, that attitude cuts both ways. Some, for instance, may take offense at a recent show where Max—dressed as the Pope—chases an apparently possessed nun.
That said, Ghosted mostly steers clear of more transgressive content issues. While sex-centric jokes turn up occasionally, they seem to be an exception, rather than a rule. Violence, when present, is played just for laughs. Language is perhaps the show’s biggest bugaboo, with Leroy apparently having a special affinity for the word “d–n.”
With captain Ava Lafrey away from the office, temporary head Annie Carver is asked to install a new office-wide AI surveillance and security system dubbed Sam. And while the digital brain can make a fine cup of cappuccino, Max soon discovers that Sam has a more diabolical scheme on his artificial cerebellum.
Leroy and Max—dressed as a priest and the Pope, respectively—chase a nun in full habit who may be possessed by a demon. (Max struggles to pursue the nun in his robes and carrying his crosier; later, when he tries to make the sign of the cross over himself, it’s obvious he doesn’t know how). We hear the nun growl, see her fight and watch as she hurdles a high wall—all feats that the skeptical Leroy attributes to possible methamphetamine use. The nun, suddenly brandishing a knife, nearly stabs Max, but she’s shot in the back by Leroy instead. (She slumps lifelessly to the ground.)
Sam, the computer, has murder on his digital mind as well. He threatens Max and others, and pumps poisonous gas into a hallway, hoping to kill the agent. When that doesn’t work, Sam frames Max. While in custody, Leroy beats Max up—punching him in the abdomen and choking him—in a violent, somewhat counterintuitive effort to help him escape. A security guard threatens someone with a handgun. Max smashes a computer terminal.
Leroy has Sam play “entrance music” whenever he walks into a room, wanting it to be “sexy, yet dangerous … like playing saxophone in a thunderstorm.” Lafrey and another woman share drinks at a bar. Scotch is also quaffed. Wine tastings and raves are mentioned. When Sam compliments someone a bit too much for comfort, Leroy tells Sam and the object of his immediate affection to “get a room.” (“He is a room,” Max reminds him. “He’s all the rooms.”) There’s a reference to a man’s “crippling gambling debt.”
We hear “d–n” about 10 times. “A– is also employed repeatedly (though we see most of its uses in writing), and we are exposed to one or two instances each of “b–ch,” “b–tard,” “h—” and “crap.” God’s name is misused once.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
An elf mage contemplates on connection and regret as she watches her human friends grow old and pass away.
