Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
There are times in life when mere words seem inadequate. When we’re feeling truly amazing, the word amazing just doesn’t cut it. To say you’re depressed when you’re actually depressed sells your emotions horribly short. No, when you’re feeling particularly sad or particularly joyful or particularly, well, anything, a better form of communication is called for.
Like, say, a song.
Or so we gather from the CW’s compelling-but-crude new comedy, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. It’s a show in which every bad decision comes with a grand musical number, where the pitch may be perfect but the content leaves us feeling flat.
At the risk of perpetuating cruel stereotypes, one would not expect Ivy League-educated lawyers to be the sort of people who’d break into a show tune at the first sight of burnt toast. But perhaps Rebecca Bunch never really had the soul of your average New York City real estate attorney. After a chance meeting with Josh Chan—a guy with whom she’d had a summer camp fling when she was 16—she decides to drop those Big Apple aspirations and move to West Covina, Calif., which is “two hours from the beach!” we often hear. “Four, with traffic.” Because, of course, Josh lives there. Yes, what in real life would be cause for a restraining order becomes, on television, a jaunty musical comedy.
Not that that’s a surprise. I mean, if Rebecca was making wise life choices, CW would have to shorten the title to, simply, “Ex-Girlfriend,” which doesn’t have quite the same sensationalist ring, now does it? Indeed, Rebecca’s selfish, messed-up antics are what have made the show—at least early on—something of a critical darling.
“People are terrible,” writes A.V. Club’s Allison Shoemaker. “That’s not a new thing for TV, obviously, or for storytelling in general (Odysseus is the worst). Still, there’s something sort of refreshing when a show where people occasionally burst into song is so willing to let its characters—including the protagonist—be so awful.”
But what’s good for the story isn’t always so good for the audience. While star Rachel Bloom is clearly a first-class talent, and while her show earns style points for its sheer musical audacity, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is soup-to-nuts problematic. (It didn’t surprise me to learn it was originally developed for the premium cable channel Showtime.)
Should, by some miracle, Rebecca capture Josh’s heart, she’s not interested in just holding hands in the West Covina moonlight. “When in Rome,” the old saying goes, and in this city littered with strip clubs and lascivious intentions, Rebecca aims to do as the West Covinans do. In fact, she’ll get sexy with anybody—man or woman—if she thinks it’ll somehow get her closer to Josh. (We’ve already seen her lock lips with his girlfriend and “get naughty” with other women during a song.) Language can be rough, too, and some of the jokes—the few that aren’t overtly sexual in nature—can be crude and even a bit racist. It probably doesn’t help that folks seem to drink quite a lot in West Covina.
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend does seem to have a kernel of sanity at its core. But its big-production musical numbers are, in a way, gravely misleading: They give this show a sunnier and happier feel than it actually earns. So for families who think it’d be fun to take their own trip out to West Covina, well, my advice would be to do exactly what Rebecca didn’t: Ask yourselves whether it might be a mistake.
Rebecca is offered a partnership in her NYC law firm. But she keeps seeing margarine ads that ask her when she was last “truly happy.” She eventually resorts to prayer. “Dear God,” she says, “I don’t pray, because I believe in science, but I don’t know what to do. Give me guidance.” Suddenly she sees an arrow sign pointing toward … Josh. That’s enough for her. She up and moves to his hometown.
Rebecca goes out with Josh’s friend, Greg, furiously making out with him and eventually drawing him into a bedroom, where they get pretty far down the oral sex path before he pushes her away (seeing that she’s crying because he’s not Josh). Rebecca and others show off their bodies in underwear and revealing outfits. A musical number features her wearing nude spanx and getting sultry and sexy with the other dancers. She visits a strip club, where a scantily clad woman writhes in front of her.
In flashback, 16-year-old Rebecca tells Josh that he “awakened my sexual being.” And when she gets in the car to go home, her mom spies a hickey and tells her that if anything happened their first stop would be at the abortionist.
Rebecca makes references to suicidal thoughts and attempts. Jewish, Hispanic and American Indian stereotypes are mined for cheap laughs. Characters drink alcohol. Pills spill out of a bottle. One s-word is partially obscured and two more are bleeped. Uncencored curses include “p—ed,” “b–ch,” “d–n,” “h—” and “a–.” God’s name is misused about 10 times.
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.
