Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
Rel’s life was pretty great, really. He had a wife. Two kids. A fantastic barber.
But then his wife slept with his barber. And, just like that, Rel’s whole world became a tangled, unshorn mess. He’s divorced now: His wife took his kids, his furniture and his self-respect a time zone or two away. And while Chicago’s home to plenty of barbers, it’s hard to find one who can give Rel’s hair the care it so desperately needs.
Yep, time for Rel take some clippers to his life and prune it back into shape. Find new furniture. New purpose. Maybe even a new girlfriend. And who knows? Maybe a great new barber—preferably one without extramarital intentions—is setting up shop just ’round the corner.
Just a little off the top, please.
Rel won’t be performing his wholistic reclamation project on his life all alone, mind you. A few folks still care about him deeply—even if they struggle to show it without an eyeroll.
Brittany is Rel’s best friend, and she wouldn’t ever shun him. Well, not for long, anyway. Plus, she feels a certain duty to help him back get back on his feet and to find him a sweet new belle.
Rel’s little brother, Nat, is back in Rel’s life, too, after having spent some time in the slammer for selling Ecstasy. He’s a changed man himself, Nat insists. Why, he even joined Oprah’s book club.
And then there’s Rel’s Dad. He lost his wife, too—to death, the severest barber of all. But he’s stuffed plenty of sage wisdom in his back pocket over the years, and he’s happy to take some of it out, brush off the crumbs and hand it over to Rel whenever he asks. Or doesn’t, but really should. Good wisdom doesn’t require an invitation to be shared, crumb-covered or no.
Rel’s kids are still in the picture, too—as in, the picture on Rel’s smartphone. They’re mostly a long ways away, but Rel does sometimes get to see them in person. And his apartment comes with two kids’ bedrooms done up in Black Panther décor. (There was a sale, Rel says.)
With a little help, Rel will get his life together again. Keeping it sane? Well, that’s another matter.
Rel, a new Fox sitcom, means well, as many comedies do. The titular character really does love his kids. The supporting characters really do care for Rel. And you know what? The lot of them even go to church once in a while—unusual in today’s sitcoms. (And yesterday’s too, for that matter.) The show can be pretty funny, to boot.
But whatever fun it offers comes amid crass sexual innuendo, mean-spirited behavior and oodles of bad language. Nothing that’d earn it an R-rating, mind you, but certainly not the kind of stuff you’d want to hear at the family dinner table, either.
Rel’s new life was made possible, and unavoidable, by a wayward barber. If I had my druthers, I’d employ a different sort of barber for this sitcom: one who’d use a pair of metaphorical scissors to snip out unwanted profanity and trim away the show’s sexual allusions. Rel, the sitcom, just needs a little off the top. And maybe the sides. And a good shampooing, too.
After his wife had a messy affair with his barber, Rel begins the process of rebuilding his life, beginning with his some-assembly-required furniture.
He also sees an opportunity to get back at his barber (Frank) by going out with his girl (even though he’s not attracted to her because she wears her boots notoriously loosely). Rel takes her to a nightclub and brags to everyone that he’s with “Frank the barber’s girl.” But the woman gets upset when she realizes that Rel’s only pursuing her for “revenge sex.” Rel tries to deny it, saying he’d really just like to have “two-people-with-glasses-who-like-each-other sex,” but she storms out on him anyway. (Later we learn she broke both her ankles in a loose-boot mishap.)
Rel’s father is embarrassed that his son’s wife left him, mocking Rel’s manly abilities and anatomy. Rel goes to confront Frank and learns that his wife had felt emotionally distant from him for years. “Honestly, I got what I deserved,” a repentant Rel admits. Frank responds, “I’ve slept with a lot of guys’ wives. But you, brother, you’re by far the most mature about it.”
Rel, his dad, and his brother, Nat, all go to church, where the pastor delivers a sermon predicated on Rel’s circumstances and shame. (But he also says, “God has a blueprint for all of our lives,” and that we “gotta have faith.”) We learn that Nat just got out of prison. People keep thinking he was imprisoned for selling crack, but he reminds them it was “just Ecstasy,” which Nat suggests is less problematic.
We see Nat, Rel and others in a bar, knocking down various drinks. The nightclub also serves various alcoholic beverages, and the DJ mentions the specials available. Someone tells Rel that his apartment “looks like a place where they bag heroin.” A few ne’er-do-wells get on a bus without paying. Someone tells Rel that if he were Rel, he would’ve killed himself by now. We also hear a reference to a drive-by shooting.
There are a couple of crass jokes made about Rel’s wife and the barber. Characters say “a–,” “d–n” and “h—” each multiple 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.
