TV Review—Houdini and Doyle
When a TV show is an unexpected hit, there is a rush to
replicate it. Lost triggered a deluge of
TV shows with confounding mysteries and vaguely sci-fi happenings, and they all
had one thing in common; they failed rapidly.
The X-Files debuted 23 years ago, and its basic premise—two investigators,
one a Believer, one a skeptic—still shows up in the DNA of series hoping to
mine the same vein that Chris Carter has been milking for 23 years (and is
still milking, if the moderate success of the six-episode X-Files arc is any
indication).
The latest is a Fox series called Houdini and Doyle, and
yes, that is Harry Houdini and Arthur Conan Doyle. The latest manifestation of the “quirky
companion to law enforcement” meme has well-known debunker Houdini teaming with
spiritualist Doyle to investigate crimes dealing with the supernatural. They are aided by a female constable who is
so integral to the plot that I shan’t mention her again in this review.
Houdini and Doyle fails on a number of levels, but let’s
start with casting. Steven Mangan plays
Doyle with all the seriousness of a music hall comic. He completely lacks the gravitas necessary to
play the creator of Sherlock Holmes, who was as quick witted as Holmes and
pompous enough to think he could kill off Holmes to concentrate on “serious”
writing. The same problem plagues
Michael Weston, a fine actor in small roles who can hardly fill Houdini’s
larger than life persona. Oscar winner Adrian
Brody did a much better job playing Houdini in a TV movie last year; it is
probably unfair to compare character actor Weston to an Academy Award winner,
but that’s what happens when you take the role.
The script is confusing, hemmed in between having to appear
to be a crime with supernatural elements to draw Doyle’s attention, while being
ultimately mundane to satisfy Houdini’s belief.
A medium gives Doyle a clue that seems to be legitimate, but then later
she is shown to be a fraud. A ghostly
apparition appears to Doyle, but it’s revealed to be Houdini’s assistant on a
wire even though the ghost was clearly transparent. It all makes very little sense.
Better examples of mystery TV shows set in the same era
abound, from the BBC’s Ripper Street (apparently resurrected from cancellation)
and CBC’s Murdoch Mysteries, about to enter its tenth season. These shows try to recreate the Victorian
era; Houdini and Doyle are content to put modern characters in funny clothes
and have them speak the occasional aphorism that sounds olde-timey.
I cut pilot episodes a lot of slack, but I don’t foresee
Houdini and Doyle getting much better.
As someone once said (I can’t remember who), casting is the one mistake
you can’t fix in post-production. Mangan
and Weston are both terribly wrong for their roles, and the fact that the roles
are written as a modern buddy comedy with lots of quips and banter just makes
it worse. As we enter the doldrums of
summer, I may give some more episodes a try just because, well, Lucifer is off
until next season. When you make Lucifer
look good by comparison, your TV show is not long for this world.
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