Comedy
Dead Boy Detectives
Dead Boy Detectives targets teens in style and story. But it comes with very adult, problematic content.
We Americans do love us our real, fictionalized comedians on TV.
It ostensibly began with Seinfeld. And the idea has since sprouted across the television spectrum: on FX (Louis C.K. in Louie), HBO (Larry David in Curb Your Enthusiasm), IFC (Marc Maron in Maron), even arguably on Showtime (where Friends alum Matt LeBlanc plays a fictionalized version of himself in Episodes). Playing yourself is all the rage in comedy—and a good way to get yourself nominated for an Emmy to boot. Both LeBlanc and C.K. snagged nominations in 2015.
Now there’s a new fake-real comedian joining this ever-so-meta party: Jim Gaffigan on TV Land, playing a guy named Jim Gaffigan. In The Jim Gaffigan Show. Of course.
The televised Gaffigan shares some similarities with his real-life self. Both are Catholic—though on TV, Gaffigan seems less than fully committed to his faith. Both seem to be happily married, more or less, even if his TV wife has to put up with a lot of irresponsible behavior from, ahem, her better half. Both serve as father to five kids. And both have a reputation for “clean” comedy.
“In full disclosure, I did curse occasionally,” Mr. Gaffigan told The Wall Street Journal about his early stand-up days. “But I felt like I wasn’t done writing the joke if I was relying on a curse word. It’s like, we’re all adults here, and some of my favorite comedians are really filthy. But I’m an eccentric observation guy. If you’re talking about mini muffins, is it really necessary to say f—?”
A Catholic, critically acclaimed, clean comedian starring in his own television sitcom? Sounds promising, right? Well, hold Bob Newhart’s phone there, mister. Gaffigan is a stand-up comedian and may well be a stand-up guy. But his show sometimes falls down on the job.
Remember how Gaffigan said he would curse “occasionally” onstage? Well, he includes that on TV, too. (We hear the likes of “b–ch” and “a–” sprinkled through some episodes.) The show’s been known to take a turn to the ribald, as well, with its subject matter ranging from the funny side of vasectomies to one of Gaffigan’s brood drawing a preschool picture of his dad’s penis. The series also features a somewhat stereotyped gay character who once dated Gaffigan’s wife, Jeannie, and now serves as her best friend and Jim’s best enemy.
That said, The Jim Gaffigan Show manages to be both relatively clean and relatively clever—as insightful in its own way as Louie can be, but without that show’s much-chronicled raunch. Compare it to Chuck Lorre’s never-ending stream of crass CBS comedies(Two and a Half Men, The Big Bang Theory), and Gaffigan reads like a Smothers Brothers routine. Critics who’ve given the sitcom high marks regularly reference Gaffigan’s clean persona and laud the show for its good heart.
One telling episode deals with Gaffigan’s paranoia of the wider world learning about his Catholicism. “We played off the notion of being outed as Christian, that being Christian in entertainment is like being gay in the ’50s,” he told The New York Times. “It really touches on my fear surrounding being known as a Christian.”
To be openly Christian in 21st-century America does indeed open yourself up to judgment. But Gaffigan, in this show, seems determined to portray a different sort of Christian than those reviled by Bill Maher or mocked on Family Guy. Christians, he says, are regular people too, who sometimes don’t really want to go to church, and sometimes … curse.
“There are positions in this culture war that Jim doesn’t want to engage in, he just wants to do jokes about avocados,” Gaffigan told the Times. “We know conflict sells, but 90% of my friends are devout atheists. The messages is: He believes in God, it’s not that big of a deal. When we were kids it didn’t matter if someone was religious, it just mattered if they were annoying.”
Gaffigan doesn’t want to be annoying. And, happily, he’s not. But for those who think that believing in God is a big deal—the biggest, really—The Jim Gaffigan Show can sometimes feel like a broken, if funny, promise.
Jim is left off a blogger’s list of the best comedians in New York City—an exclusion he says doesn’t bother him. But soon, Jim’s diving deeply into the city’s alt-comic scene in the hope of proving himself to the blogger.
The episode pokes fun at Jim’s own mainstream persona (one fan says, “You’re my grandpa’s favorite comedian!”) as well as the weirdness of the city’s supposed underground comedian circuit. After finishing a comic set at the über-hip club Jeffy’s (actually Jeffy’s living room), Jim plays the house’s “second room”: A bathroom where three people wait to be entertained while sitting (clothed) in a bathtub. At another club, the emcee introducing Jim tells the audience, uncertainly, “Our next comedian identifies as male …” ribbing the culture on its accommodations regarding gender fluidity.
Meanwhile, Jim’s wife is on the hunt for the blogger who left Jim off the list. She imagines him as what she calls a “lumber douche,” a bearded, plaid-wearing hipster with stickers all over his laptop. When she finds a man who fits this description, she walks over and gives him a scathing dressing down. When she leaves, the audience learns that the man is actually a Russian immigrant who didn’t understand a word she said.
Characters drink wine and beer. Cocktails sit in front of comedy club patrons. Disparaging comments are made concerning various New York neighborhoods. We hear “p-ss” and “bullcrap.” Someone’s stepfather is referred to as a “tool.”
Jim gets some unexpected time off and promises his kids it’ll be a “super great daddy day”—but quickly winds up in his own bedroom sanctuary, watching TV and eating a Fudgsicle. So Jeannie sends him on a few family errands: turning in one of the kid’s birth certificates for confirmation class at church, submitting an application for a hoity-toity private school and delivering a batch of vegan cupcakes to a preschool. But when the teacher unexpectedly gives Jim a picture his son drew of Jim’s penis—and he gets said picture mixed up with the other papers—embarrassment ensues.
A great many jokes are made about the picture and Jim’s aforementioned anatomical part. (We also hear how another student at the school drew her vagina.) In the end, the drawing eventually shows up on a Catholic church bulletin. (We never see the image.)
Jim covers for the philandering of his juvenile friend, Dave, telling a woman that the other woman Dave was with at a nightclub was really Jim’s girlfriend. To cover up that lie, Jim agrees with the lie that his wife is always drunk and beats him. Jim is confronted by a man and, later, the man’s wife, who accuse him of calling her a fat “whore” and “b–ch” at one of his performances. Jim says that’s impossible, given his reputation as a clean comedian, but to no avail: Jeannie and the woman get into a physical altercation that also prompts the use of the word “a–.” Characters use God’s name inappropriately a couple of times. Jim “steals” his kid’s Fudgsicle and fudges the truth frequently—including about how often he goes to church when confronted by the priest. He lounges around in his boxers.
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.
