Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
If you don’t like this review, blame my evil twin.
It’s clearly his fault. I’m writing this with the best of intentions. But ever since my evil twin, Paulisimo, escaped from that underwater prison off the coast of Venezuela, rode to the U.S. on the back of a mako shark and became president of a multinational corporation that served as a convenient cover for his illegal hummus-selling ring, he’s taken to messing with my copy something awful.
Or perhaps this review is bad because I’m suffering from a touch of amnesia. Or maybe I’m writing while in hiding in a barn, trying to evade Paulisimo’s black-clad, nunchuck-flinging henchmen. It’s not my fault, is what I’m saying.
Or at least it wouldn’t be if I was a character in a telenovela.
For decades, telenovelas have provided guilty-pleasure escapes for their Spanish-fluent fans, and the fictional Las Leyes de Pasión is one of the escapiest. Every episode is crammed with love, conflict, intrigue and … cleavage. But what about the lives of those who work on the show—the actors and writers, along with the seamstress tasked with enhancing the aforementioned cleavage?
Loyal viewers might assume that Ana Sofia Calderon—the glamorous star of the Spanish-language Las Leyes—would herself speak Spanish. (But she can’t.) Or that sparks might fly between her and her onscreen lover, Gael Garnica. (They don’t; he’s gay.) Or that viciously-coiffed Isabella actually has an evil twin.
Well, OK, that last bit is true. And it is kinda racy for Ana’s ex-husband, Xavier, to be cast as her co-star. But, hey, at least he doesn’t arrive on set with a pet mako. And Rodrigo Suarez surely isn’t the nasty fellow that his fake black mustache and ever-present white cat would suggest.
It’s the setup for a silly, surreal, show-within-a-show comedy that actually spends more time merging elements from Ugly Betty and 30 Rock than it does mimicking real-life telenovelas.
I’m pretty sure that if this was a review of Las Leyes de Pasión, I’d be ending it with some variation of, “This show is so frightful it should come with a restraining order.”
Telenovela isn’t quite as bad as all that. But it’s not great, either. The wardrobe choices here are uniformly (and purposefully) salacious: Necklines plunge, shirts hang open, muscles are flexed, straps come undone. In one episode, Ana dons a risqué nun habit. In another, she does an “accidental” strip tease for the new network head. Cast members hop in and out of bed, both on the set and off, triggering a certain flippancy regarding sex, sexuality and marriage. Alcohol, too. Certainly there’s no topic or situation that’s beyond the bounds of an over-the-top joke.
Mimi wonders whether Ana considers her to be more of a personal assistant than a friend. So to avoid a confrontation, Ana turns to a classic telenovela device and pretends she has amnesia.
Several female characters wear dresses and tops that show off a lot of skin. And a crew member takes advantage of the situation by touching Ana’s cleavage—telling her he’s helping with her microphone. Mimi stuffs a great many personal items in her cleavage, including a mint that she gives to Ana. (“I’ve eaten worse from worse,” Ana says.) Isabella is shown in a series of fat-concealing undergarments. Bikinis and tight pants put in appearances. Gael reminds a supposedly amnesic Ana that he’s gay. The two kiss passionately for Las Leyes. Ana begins to rub someone’s hairy back. There’s talk of “scrotal reduction surgery” and how Mimi looked for “sexy” pictures online. Ana discusses her bra size. People dance suggestively.
Ana is hit on the head with a falling light, knocking her out. A man falls from a ladder. Two people slip on water, causing one to lose a tooth. Folks fall down a prop well. In flashback, we see someone get hurt with a prop sword and zapped by a set light. Someone drinks a martini.
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.
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