Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
“Little girls aren’t supposed to be journalists.
So reads a comment on the bottom of 9-year-old Hilde Lisko’s first explosive article for her own paper, The Magic Hour Chronicle. Had she a few more years under her belt, Hilde might’ve anticipated that people would be upset with the story. Investigating the mysterious death of a nearby neighbor, Hilde concludes it could be murder and says as much—even if the local police insist it’s an accident.
Back in Brooklyn, where Hilde’s dad, Matt, was a crime reporter himself, such a story in a self-published paper would’ve gotten lost in the city’s screaming headlines. But here in the small town of Erie Harbor, Washington, folks like things quiet. So when a determined little girl shouts “Murder!,” it’s bound to draw some attention—to which the 24 pages worth of comments attest.
“I hate whoever wrote this.”
“You are just a stupid little girl.”
“Little girls aren’t supposed to be journalists.”
Hilde Lisko has just two words for the person who wrote that last comment: Wanna bet?
Did Penny Gillis really just have an accident? Maybe, maybe not. But as Hilde digs deeper, she and a handful of adult confidants begin to believe that the woman’s untimely death may be connected to the mysterious disappearance of Richie Fife, who was abducted back in 1988. Some adults in Erie Harbor, including Hilde’s father, still bear scars from that disappearance—and perhaps some guilt, too. So it’s little wonder that many want this tragic story to stay buried.
But Hilde is determined to dig it up. She’s a journalist first, kid second. She tagged along on too many crime scenes with her dad back in Brooklyn for it to be otherwise. She’s watched All the President’s Men, an old movie that details how the Washington Post broke open the Watergate story, 36 times.
“I think if they cut me open,” she says, “I would bleed ink.”
Hilde believes that only the truth will set these people free, and she’s determined to unearth that truth—even if a body or two comes with it.
Meanwhile, Hilde leaves exasperated adults in her wake. With one or two exceptions, the police think she’s a pint-size nuisance. Kim Collins, the elementary school principal, does her best to quell anxious parents and to keep Hilde’s investigation in check. Hilde’s mother admits it’s exhausting to try to deal with a kid who’s so ambitious and determined, and even Hilde’s proud pops can be exasperated at times.
“Why can’t you be a little kid for once in your life?!” he yells.
Hilde screws up her face in an effort to not cry and gives her dad a big hug.
“It’s OK, Dad,” she says. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
Home Before Dark is (very loosely) based on the real Hilde Lysiak (now 13), who has indeed been covering the communities she’s lived in since she was 8. Her first newspaper was just for the family and written in crayon. Now, Lysiak’s journalistic empire (made possible with a little help from her dad and older sister, Izzy) includes a website, YouTube Channel and paid print subscriptions.
But just as adults might not know what to make of this bulldog reporter who technically still has to use a booster seat, it’s hard to know what to make of this show, as well.
You’d think that a movie about a kid would be suitable for kids—and in a way, Apple TV+ seems to try. The show feels, at times, like many a kid- or teen-centric offering that revolves around a spunky young protagonist. The content isn’t as graphic as most murder mysteries might be, and its central message is a good one: Kids are capable of remarkable things. So it might be a good idea to, y’know, listen to them now and then.
And as a former newspaper guy myself, it’s a welcome reminder of the importance of independent journalism and the good it can do.
But Apple TV+ can’t commit to making a real kid-friendly show. It acknowledges as much with its TV-14 rating, which means that it’s technically not appropriate for kids Hilde’s own age. The show obviously deals with some difficult subject matter, from abduction to murder. The story focuses nearly as much time on the weary, haunted adults in Erie Harbor as it does on its own heroine. The language can be pretty harsh, too. We hear the s-word sometimes. And when older sister Izzy spells out the word in front of Hilde, Hilde snaps back, “I’m a journalist. I know how to spell.”
The show is, in short, far more confused about its path than its young protagonist. And that leaves Home Before Dark stuck in the content twilight.
Hilde Lisko and her family move from Brooklyn to Erie Harbor, Washington, the childhood home of Hilde’s father, Matt. Immediately, the fledgling journalist is suspicious of everyone she sees. Why is that guy digging holes? Why is that woman holding a garage sale where none of the merchandise is tagged? Is Hilde just overly enthusiastic? Perhaps. But when the garage sale woman gives Hilde an old, kid-sized bike to pass on to her father—and then the next day dies in a mysterious “accident”—Hilde feels like she might be on to a story after all.
Hilde’s activities quickly lead to feeling alienated at school, and her story triggers tons of meanspirited, bullying comments online. Her father tries to hide them, but Hilde discovers the printouts that he made. “It’s so mean!” she says, crying. But when Matt tries to tell her that that’s what happens online sometimes, she corrects him. “I was talking about you,” she says, frowning. “I thought we didn’t keep secrets.”
We see the outside of a crime scene where the garage-sale woman died. In an old video tape, we witness grainy footage of a child abduction: A van squeals to a stop beside three kids, snatches one of them and throws the child into the back of the vehicle. Adults tell Hilde that while they arrested the presumed culprit, the abducted child was never found.
We see quite a bit of bullying behavior, along with a food fight. Hilde steals an old VCR from her principal’s office (a VCR that she knows the principal got, somehow, from the garage sale lady). We hear variations of the s-word three times—once in the context of an old movie that Hilde constantly watches, another spelled out during a family breakfast. We also hear “a–” and “d–n.” An abbreviation for the f-word is also heard.
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.
