Monday, February 14, 2011

Just... just watch it.



Sometimes an invention comes along that just seems right, like maybe the mad scientist behind it was drinking his Wheatie Shakes when he was stirring the ol’ brain juices.  Definitely one of the top three inventions of the last 50 years, trailing right behind g-strings and Totino’s Pizza Rolls, is that wonderful little treasure that is the Netflix instant streaming option.  

I’m going to be honest here, and tell you I sort of hate tv.  Not the medium itself, mind you, but the whole process of watching television.  I hate commercials of course, and most of what’s on these days is just absolute garbage.  Much of this nation is more concerned with what a man-child who calls himself The Situation (I can’t believe I just made that a proper noun.  I feel so dirty.) had for breakfast than any sort of real plot, and that’s just a shame.  It’s even worse considering the sort of shows that don’t make it due to poor ratings or lack of interest.  In recent history we’ve cancelled shows like Freaks and Geeks and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip while letting a show about Donald Trump playing games with assholes too lazy to get their own business degree make it to... (looking up the answer on wikipedia)... ELEVEN SEASONS?!  Holy Lord, take me now.  I weep for humanity.

Anyway, shows these days are getting better for the most part.  The best of the best still always seem to be cancelled early (I miss The Tick), but there are always going to be diamonds in the rough.  Since I hate watching television and currently don’t receive cable, I have chosen to turn to my old friend Netflix to get them secondhand.  One of the great things about Netflix is that after awhile it starts deciding what I’d like and what I wouldn’t like.  Now, normally I’d be wary of letting a computer steer my tastes, and not just because according to most 1980s sci-fi movies we should have been at war with the machines ages ago.  I mean, just the other day Monster.com told me I’d make a great theoretical physicist when it knows damned well that as soon as letters are introduced to mathematics my eyes begin to bleed.  But I digress, Netflix is pretty nifty in this regard.  I’ve found some good stuff to feast my eyes on lately by it’s recommendation.

However, they should add a little warning next to some of their choices.  A warning that would have said something like “You will become more addicted to this show than Rosie O’donnel is to Oreos and muffdiving”.  The show in question is called Psych and I watched about 80 hours of it in the past two weeks.

I’d heard of Psych before, from a few people and the ads that sometimes popped up during reruns of Burn Notice, but had never given it much thought.  I’m not huge on police procedurals.  Law and Order never did anything for me, and I only ever watched NYPD Blue to see bare butts on network television.  Lately there’s been an explosion of these weird off-topic police dramas that seem to always center around one super smart person with a weird schtick who is smarmy and sarcastic and helps solve crimes by figuring out if someone is lying or by accurately predicting the Numb3rs.  For the most part these are shows that my aged parents enjoy, and I’ve learned to steer clear of such tripe.

Psych is different.  Or maybe it isn’t, I don’t know.  I don’t watch any of that other nonsense.  All I know is that Psych is good.  Psych gets me.  I’d have Psych’s babies if given half the chance.  Perhaps I should stop trying to be funny and actually talk about the show?  Okay, I read you loud and clear.

Plot-wise, we have this twenty-something slacker named Shawn Spencer who’s detective daddy trained him from a young age to be hyper-observant.  After calling in enough tips about ongoing criminal investigations to be labeled a suspect, Spencer convinces the Santa Barbara PD that his talents come from psychic abilities in order to get out of trouble.  Why he couldn’t just tell them he was intelligent and observant, I don’t know and I don’t care, because then no shenaniganery would have ensued.  Basically, he ends up opening his own psychic detective agency with his best friend Gus, butting heads with hard nosed “real” detectives, and wooing ladycops all while solving whatever crime is most wacky that week.

I admit, this shouldn’t work as well as it does.  It’s not a story that can go a whole lot of places and it’s structure is so cookie cutter I crave milk after every episode, but damned if they don’t make it entertaining, schtick or no.  The dialogue is what really makes it work.  Constant pop culture references, in jokes, and back-and-forth ribbing won me over by the end of the first episode.  By the third or fourth episode I loved the characters so much I’d crossed the “I want to have a barbecue with these people” threshold and entered superfandom.  Psych has humor I didn’t expect, and towards the end of season two it really ramped up some of the drama and emotion, without sacrificing what made me love it in the first place.  It’s not a jaw dropping experience like say, Breaking Bad or Boardwalk Empire, but it is a part of a certain set of shows that are just really enjoyable and fun to watch without requiring such a stern commitment.  Go watch it.

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