CSI: NY - the death of an almost good thing
Dear my friends,
As you know me, you will know by this time that I do enjoy my crime dramas, all the best elements of which combine in some of the available CSI dramas currently being shown both at home and abroad. The cynics among you may imagine that this is because of various hot boys, namely Danny “Boom” Messer and Det. Don Flack ( otherwise known as hot assistant number 1 Tag from Friends, who has learned how to get a haircut since Thank God). However there are other attractions, not least the prospect of an hour of mindless entertainment watching the carryings-on of a fictional crime scene unit which reflects as much the realities of actual forensic work as Gossip Girl does the life of a geeky, poor, wrong-side-of-the-tracks boy who attends an Upper East Side New York high school.
Having spent years with CSI in its various guises (except Miami) and managed to ignore glaring scientific inaccuracies, stereotypical characters roles filled with actors from the buy-one get one-free school of acting and glaringly obvious product placement I imagined my tolerance levels to be pretty high, so imagine my surprise when watching it last night, I found myself staring in blank horror at the screen, unable to form a coherent sentence past thoughts of “No, Please No, No More”.
Imagine, if you will the second or 22nd, depending on how you look at it plot twist in any American formulaic crime drama you watch. A native American Indian has been killed, not in the regular way bullet to the back of the head, getting hit by a disgruntled customer/wife/girlfriend/dog-walker whoever the random suspect is this week, no indeed no recycled NYPD Blue plotlines for this show. Instead our vic has been shot while on a train, by a bullet coming from outside of the train, while the train is moving. So far so plot-twisty. But wait, theres more, having arrested this weeks hapless Asian/Middle-Eastern/African-Ameri can /anyone so long as theyre not white Caucasian suspect who ends up having nothing to do with the case (not to be confused with Cold Case where this person is often the actual murderer) they discover that the vic did not in fact die from the gunshot, but instead from other random disease that was already present in his body, which means….wait for it that when the one in 5 million happenstance of being shot while on a moving train from outside of the train happened, he was actually dead already. Cue scene in ME’s lab, where meaningless med-speak reminiscent of ER happens, stir in the presence of eccentric, odd yet brilliant ME and yes, the scene is set for unnecessarily, prohibitively expensive medical test using an enormous array of medical diagnosis equipment never seen before outside of a multi-billion $ pharmaceutical research facility or a Warren Buffet sponsored hospital wing (see paragraph two; scientific inaccuracies for further details). Throw in the presence of the ME-turned CSI token black guy and the scene is set for yet another unexpected and astounding plot twist.
And here is where the train really went off the tracks - a piece of wood is found, where is not important really, its what follows that brought about the horror that was my viewing experience. Adam (clichéd character often found in crime dramas, not attractive enough to be main character, but through exposure to publics fickle opinion may become so. Quiet, ultra-nerdy has flashes of brilliance and the dubious honour of being the only character to say accurate science-type things by virtue of most of his dialogue being pulled verbatim from the American Medical Journal or New Scientist. Possibly sexual tension between him and Stella {condescending, heartless, conniving, egocentric central female character who has her own plotline on the side} which may or may not be resolved depending on whether she gets with Mac) having examined the wood in, yes, you’ve guessed it the wood database discovers the wood is Irish Ash wood, of the type commonly used in hurleys and declares that yes it comes from Iirelaend in that wonderful way that New Yorkers have. Danny, having spent most of this episode gormlessly harping on about names for his up-and-coming baby (which is being had in wedlock as, worried about confusion with L&O: SVU; Conservative, Christian, Right Wing Republican values are central) looks like this is the most amazing thing since sliced bread.
From here the plot descends into absolute drivel, exacerbated by the worst Oirishness seen since Tom Cruise murdered the Irish accent for 2.5 painful hours back in 1992. Flack, being the programmes descended from REAL Irish people, as opposed to the knock-off ones that can be bought on any NY street corner, cop on the beat takes himself down to the New York hurling teams training ground, where being Irish and suspicious of all officials driving government cars, and wearing bad suits accompanied by hot sidekicks speak in Irish in order to confuse our intrepid investigator. One would think that this moment was enough, but no, not happy with this, the plotwriters have a further twist - Flack speaks Irish too and proceeds to do so, to the utter dismay of the two Oirishers, who look like they’ve just watched the last of the boats leave and theres no potatoes to be had. To further ham up this Diddlee-ay nation portrayal, Flacks usual throw-away, yet wise line is spoken in Irish also.
It turns out, it wasn’t actually the Irishers at all, but of course, something to do with poker and online gambling which is always the case where there are native Americans involved according to a poll of white, neo-Conservatist crime show watchers aged between 25 and 45. At this point however, the damage is already done - this once reasonably interesting show, which somehow managed to overcome its faults and place itself in the not amazing but decent ratings bracket will be no more for me. When a show descends to hackneyed bring in the Irish for a bit of fun formulaicness its time to say goodbye. Why they chose to what they did and why Eddie Cahill, an actor who, while not of amazing range or ability was always good for a giggle or two, allowed himself to do this will be one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of our time but the horror burning with the heat of a thousand suns within me will never die.
As you know me, you will know by this time that I do enjoy my crime dramas, all the best elements of which combine in some of the available CSI dramas currently being shown both at home and abroad. The cynics among you may imagine that this is because of various hot boys, namely Danny “Boom” Messer and Det. Don Flack ( otherwise known as hot assistant number 1 Tag from Friends, who has learned how to get a haircut since Thank God). However there are other attractions, not least the prospect of an hour of mindless entertainment watching the carryings-on of a fictional crime scene unit which reflects as much the realities of actual forensic work as Gossip Girl does the life of a geeky, poor, wrong-side-of-the-tracks boy who attends an Upper East Side New York high school.
Having spent years with CSI in its various guises (except Miami) and managed to ignore glaring scientific inaccuracies, stereotypical characters roles filled with actors from the buy-one get one-free school of acting and glaringly obvious product placement I imagined my tolerance levels to be pretty high, so imagine my surprise when watching it last night, I found myself staring in blank horror at the screen, unable to form a coherent sentence past thoughts of “No, Please No, No More”.
Imagine, if you will the second or 22nd, depending on how you look at it plot twist in any American formulaic crime drama you watch. A native American Indian has been killed, not in the regular way bullet to the back of the head, getting hit by a disgruntled customer/wife/girlfriend/dog-walker whoever the random suspect is this week, no indeed no recycled NYPD Blue plotlines for this show. Instead our vic has been shot while on a train, by a bullet coming from outside of the train, while the train is moving. So far so plot-twisty. But wait, theres more, having arrested this weeks hapless Asian/Middle-Eastern/African-Ameri can /anyone so long as theyre not white Caucasian suspect who ends up having nothing to do with the case (not to be confused with Cold Case where this person is often the actual murderer) they discover that the vic did not in fact die from the gunshot, but instead from other random disease that was already present in his body, which means….wait for it that when the one in 5 million happenstance of being shot while on a moving train from outside of the train happened, he was actually dead already. Cue scene in ME’s lab, where meaningless med-speak reminiscent of ER happens, stir in the presence of eccentric, odd yet brilliant ME and yes, the scene is set for unnecessarily, prohibitively expensive medical test using an enormous array of medical diagnosis equipment never seen before outside of a multi-billion $ pharmaceutical research facility or a Warren Buffet sponsored hospital wing (see paragraph two; scientific inaccuracies for further details). Throw in the presence of the ME-turned CSI token black guy and the scene is set for yet another unexpected and astounding plot twist.
And here is where the train really went off the tracks - a piece of wood is found, where is not important really, its what follows that brought about the horror that was my viewing experience. Adam (clichéd character often found in crime dramas, not attractive enough to be main character, but through exposure to publics fickle opinion may become so. Quiet, ultra-nerdy has flashes of brilliance and the dubious honour of being the only character to say accurate science-type things by virtue of most of his dialogue being pulled verbatim from the American Medical Journal or New Scientist. Possibly sexual tension between him and Stella {condescending, heartless, conniving, egocentric central female character who has her own plotline on the side} which may or may not be resolved depending on whether she gets with Mac) having examined the wood in, yes, you’ve guessed it the wood database discovers the wood is Irish Ash wood, of the type commonly used in hurleys and declares that yes it comes from Iirelaend in that wonderful way that New Yorkers have. Danny, having spent most of this episode gormlessly harping on about names for his up-and-coming baby (which is being had in wedlock as, worried about confusion with L&O: SVU; Conservative, Christian, Right Wing Republican values are central) looks like this is the most amazing thing since sliced bread.
From here the plot descends into absolute drivel, exacerbated by the worst Oirishness seen since Tom Cruise murdered the Irish accent for 2.5 painful hours back in 1992. Flack, being the programmes descended from REAL Irish people, as opposed to the knock-off ones that can be bought on any NY street corner, cop on the beat takes himself down to the New York hurling teams training ground, where being Irish and suspicious of all officials driving government cars, and wearing bad suits accompanied by hot sidekicks speak in Irish in order to confuse our intrepid investigator. One would think that this moment was enough, but no, not happy with this, the plotwriters have a further twist - Flack speaks Irish too and proceeds to do so, to the utter dismay of the two Oirishers, who look like they’ve just watched the last of the boats leave and theres no potatoes to be had. To further ham up this Diddlee-ay nation portrayal, Flacks usual throw-away, yet wise line is spoken in Irish also.
It turns out, it wasn’t actually the Irishers at all, but of course, something to do with poker and online gambling which is always the case where there are native Americans involved according to a poll of white, neo-Conservatist crime show watchers aged between 25 and 45. At this point however, the damage is already done - this once reasonably interesting show, which somehow managed to overcome its faults and place itself in the not amazing but decent ratings bracket will be no more for me. When a show descends to hackneyed bring in the Irish for a bit of fun formulaicness its time to say goodbye. Why they chose to what they did and why Eddie Cahill, an actor who, while not of amazing range or ability was always good for a giggle or two, allowed himself to do this will be one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of our time but the horror burning with the heat of a thousand suns within me will never die.