I HATE cutsie mysteries!
I’ve been watching the commercials on television for the new mystery series, “Castle,” with great interest. It looked like an good idea and I HOPED it wouldn’t be one of those oh-so cutsie shows like “Bones.” (I had high hopes for that one too as I like Kathy Reich’s novels. I watched the first show and quit. Yuck.) Abandon all hope all ye who decide to watch “Castle.” It’s cutsier than hell.
The basic premise is that Richard Castle, a wildly successful and extremely rich mystery writer, has decided to go along with an NYC police detective to experience how real police work happens. Well, damn – I guess I’ve been doing it wrong! I always thought a writer should find out the correct way things are done and THEN write about them. Silly me. The show starts with a police detective going into HUGE detail about all the things that could happen to Castle before he make sure the writer signs off to make sure the police department is not liable if anything happens to him. I’ve gone on police ride-alongs – you sign a piece of paper after hopefully reading it. That’s it – no big production.
The instant Castle has inked his signature on the dotted line, THEY GET A CASE! The detective whom Castle is shadowing is young, gorgeous and VERY EFFICIENT! The show went rapidly down hill from there. They trade witty barbs, she keeps saying, “Shut up, Castle,” and quirking her eyebrow at him. He smirks and tries to look cute. Of course he sees and hears things the very efficient detective misses completely. He spies clues, intuits motives and basically solves the case. He goes home to his adorable teen-aged daughter and writes about the case – I suppose to publish another wildly successful novel that will earn him pots of money.
Well, I tried. I watched “Castle” once – never again. The first time killed too many of my brain cells.
