Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
Amazing what a little plane crash can do for one’s attitude.
Jane was all set to commit suicide on the trip back home: She’d stolen a bunch of pills from a mental health facility and was planning to swallow them all on the plane ride. But then the plane went down in the cold, snowy mountains near Oregon, and she and the plane’s other survivor must figure out how to—well, survive.
Before we dive into Survive, let’s talk about Quibi, the content platform on which this “show” has been released.
Quibi was founded by former Walt Disney Studio chairman Jeffrey Katzenberg and sports an unusual conceit: It’s predicated entirely on short-form, small-screen storytelling. Every episode is 10 minutes or less and is designed to be watched on your phone—complete with a vertical screen orientation. Episodes of Survive average between 7-8 minutes, which means the whole 12-episode season might not be that much longer than one episode of star Sophie Turner’s previous television show, Game of Thrones (the longest episode of which clocked in at 82 minutes long).
While most of the entertainment establishment has been trending toward longer form stories (with full tales told over whole seasons and series), Katzenberg and some of the platform’s other investors (including Disney, Sony, CBS and NBC) believed that Quibi’s shorter format was perfect for a culture on the go, with episodes eminently digestible while riding the subway or waiting for the bus.
And then, of course, the culture ground to a stop.
Still, in the season of the coronavirus, we can’t seem to get enough screen time in, and Quibi declared that 300,000 people downloaded the app on its very first day. Quibi offers a free 90-day trial membership, but charges $4.99 a month after that (or $7.99 for a commercial-free experience). Some of that money will go to pay off, apparently, the reported $1.1 billion Quibi has already spent on programming during its first year.
So here’s the question: Is any of that expensive content worth watching?
Of the 24 shows that started when the platform did (another 11 are expected to debut this month, with an anticipated 85 total shows to trundle out in its first year), most seem to be reality shows. Thanks to Turner’s presence, Survive is probably one of Quibi’s higher-profile dramas. And it makes full use of the fact that Quibi says it’s geared toward viewers 18-44.
Survive is not horrifically gory, though you do see plenty of blood in both flashbacks and in the aftermath of the plane wreck. But we do see plenty of skin in spots, and the language is strictly TV-MA, with both f- and s-words proliferating. The show, at least early on before it turns its plane-crash corner, also holds many of the same narrative dangers as Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why: Early on, her suicidal ideation might trigger someone, and each early episode sports a warning (and a hotline number to call) to that effect.
Furthermore, despite its life-or-death premise, Survive isn’t all that compelling. And perhaps that’s the fault of the format itself.
Television is built around characters. We watch many shows because we feel like we know, and often like, the people we “meet” on them. It’s hard to get to know anyone in 10-minute bursts. And that makes me wonder whether Quibi, or its shows, will themselves survive.
Jane prepares to leave Life House, the home for mentally distraught 14-to-22-year-olds she’s been living at, to go home to her mother. We learn that she has a history of suicide in her family: Her grandmother and father both killed themselves, and she was brought to Life House after her own suicide attempt. But she claims that that was all about attention: Now, she’s serious—and before leaving, she breaks into the Life House’s pharmaceutical cabinet.
We see nightmares and flashbacks involving a great deal of blood. Jane talks frankly about how difficult it is to bleed out. Patients take a bevy of medication—pills placed in paper cups. Jane sits in a shower, obviously naked. (We see a quick glimpse of the side of her breast.) She smokes cigarettes. Characters say the f-word twice.
Jane leaves Life House for the airport, where she meets a friendly fellow named Paul. Back at Life House, when Jane’s old roommate worries that Jane plans to hurt herself, Jane’s doctor there calls her and asks to see her. She lies, saying the plane’s about to leave, and she hangs up. In truth, her old roommate is right: She plans to swallow tons of pills once everyone on the plane is asleep, and she hopes to be dead by the time the plane lands.
When Jane hugs an effeminate Life House mate during a counseling session, another patient says, “Get a room, ladies.” Jane thinks about the suicide of her father—how she thought he was a narcissist for leaving her, but how she now understands his motivations. She and Paul talk about fate and destiny. She breaks down in the lavatory: Unfortunately for her, it’s the men’s bathroom that she wandered into by mistake. Characters say the f-word five time, the s-word three times and misuse God’s name once.
Jane and Paul are aboard the plane, and Paul tries to make conversation with her. She feigns tiredness, and Paul eventually falls asleep. Jane sneaks into the airplane lavatory to take her pills when something in the plane goes wrong. Paul wakes up to discover the engine, beside his window, is on fire.
We hear a lot of panic in the passengers as the plane begins to go down. Jane’s pills go flying in the lavatory, as does Jane. The s-word is used three times. God’s name is misused three times and Jesus’ name is abused once.
Jane discovers the plane has crashed, and she staggers out of the still remarkably intact lavatory to survey the literal wreckage. One woman calls for help, but she dies in Jane’s arms. She seems to shout, “Oh God, help me,” and hears another moan—this one from her row mate, Paul.
The woman who dies expires after blood starts seeping from her mouth. Paul is trapped under some wreckage, and after Jane helps free him, he speculates that some of his ribs are broken. (He lifts up his shirt to reveal a bad-looking bruise.) Other corpses lie both on the ground and in the plane’s wreckage. The airplane continues to burn as Paul and Jane try to find safe shelter in its remnants. (They do, and they lie close to each other for warmth.)
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.
