Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
Eric, a student at Five Points High School, is dead. That much is clear. The reason why is still a mystery.
Though he apparently committed suicide, killing himself in a parked car, Eric didn’t leave behind a note. He didn’t record a series of tapes, à la 13 Reasons Why. Someone was in the car with him at the time, a friend named Lexi. But few know she was there, and she’s not talking about it. Yet.
Five students each have bits of the puzzle. But none of them—even Lexi—have enough to piece together the what and why and even the who. Not who literally killed Eric, who seems to have done that himself. But who—perhaps a collection of whos—bears responsibility for his tragic death. And so it’s up to Facebook Watch viewers to solve the streaming mystery before the final episode airs.
In some ways, Five Points is nothing new. Deadly mysteries have been a storytelling staple since Edgar Allen Poe committed Murder in the Rue Morgue; and bands of semi-guilty suspects have been in vogue since at least Agatha Christie.
But if Five Points‘ story isn’t all that unusual, how this series tells it offers a bit of a new twist.
The show airs on Facebook Watch, which is simply a page on Facebook. Anyone who belongs to that social network can watch if they so wish. (And that, in itself, is problematic, as we’ll soon see.)
Forget the usual hour-long drama format, too: Facebook keeps its episodes down to a measly 10 minutes, airing two at a time weekly. Each episode is told, more or less, from the perspective of one student, with each new installment adding more context to the last. By the end of the series’ 10-episode run, audiences should know what happened to Eric.
If Five Points takes some inspiration from Christie and Clue, it also turns to 13 Reasons Why. The show makes a big deal of the serious themes it tackles—from bullying and LGBT issues to drug abuse and suicide. And, as has become vogue, it also offers a list of resources for anyone affected by these concerns or triggered by the show’s treatment of them.
Not that there are many viewers left to trigger at this point.
Facebook’s grand experiment in the world of original programming started out pretty strong. About 5.2 million people watched the opening episode as of this publication date—respectable numbers in this age of unlimited viewing options and fragmented audiences.
But the show’s viewership plummeted by 80% the following week. As of today, the eighth episode has been watched about 150,000 times.
Perhaps that’s because the show just isn’t very good.
Oh, it’s not horrible. If a high school drama department was behind Five Points, in fact, I’d say it was rather effectively executed. But 10-minute episodes don’t allow for much time for character enrichment. And, well, Facebook itself has never been known for its thoughtful subtlety.
Still, Facebook manages to squeeze quite a bit of questionable content into those 10 minutes. Eric’s blood is spattered again and again. People beat other people up. Characters kiss, and same-sex issues are very much part of the show’s plot. Folks swear, too, up to and including the s-word.
Now, none of this rises to Game of Thrones-level gratuity, of course. Five Points would be right at home on even network television (minus those s-words). And each episode is prefaced with a content warning, which seems considerate. Still, for a show that can be watched on a smartphone by any and all youngsters with a Facebook account—potentially circumnavigating whatever parental oversight a home might have—the content warning might actually be a selling point here rather than a deterrent.
Five Points may be a sign of how the world of television continues to change and evolve. But frankly, I found the show a bit … pointless.
In the first episode, a teen named C.J. worries that the gun Eric used to kill himself was one of his. In the second, Wallace erases some video surveillance tape of the incident and tries to blame bully Alex for giving Eric some medication.
C.J. also knows that Lexi was in the car with Eric when he did it. Indeed, he spirits her away and helps her wipe the blood off her face. Blood is still spattered on her chest; he has her remove some of her outer garments (down to a tank top) and gives her some of his clothes, telling Lexi that he’ll burn her bloodstained garments. The two later kiss.
In the second episode, Wallace (who also has a crush on Lexi) is consoled by his gay best friend, Jonathan. He sports cuts and bruises on his face from an earlier bullying episode. And when he gets Alex into trouble, Alex and his friends chase and attack Wallace—punching him repeatedly in the face and gut. (Blood mars Wallace’s lip again.)
We hear folks discuss selling illegal drugs and the possible sale and distribution of firearms. Lexi clearly has a poor relationship with her father, who dismisses her traumatic school experiences as nothing but “drama” (not even letting her tell him that she was in the car when Eric killed himself). Characters use the s-word once, “b–ch” a couple of times and God’s name twice as well.
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.
