Television can be divided into winners and losers, shows
that are renewed and shows that are cancelled.
Come to think of it, life can be divided into winners and losers
too. In most cases shows starts off
strong, run for a few seasons, then limp to the inevitable end (except for The
Simpsons). Or, they don’t catch on and
are off the air in 13 (or fewer) weeks and never of again (except for Firefly).
One outlier is the late, relatively unlamented NBC series
Grimm, which ended its run after five full seasons and half of a sixth. The show never caught fire, or created a huge
fanbase, or acquired critical acclaim (its two Emmy nominations were for stunt
coordination). But it survived, reaching the famous 100-episode threshold,
which is not nothing in the cutthroat world of network television. Its departure leaves a Grimm-sized hole in
NBC’s Friday line-up.
The show, created by David Greenawalt and Jim Kouf, began
with the tail wind created by Greenawalt’s work as a producer on both Buffy the
Vampire Slayer and Angel. Like Buffy, it was about a not-so-lone champion who
fought mystical beasties that existed right under the noses of an oblivious
society. Like Buffy, its hero developed
a cadre of friends and colleagues, some of whom were frankly more interesting
than the lead character. But unlike Buffy, the central mythology never quite
gelled.
In my opinion, the central problem with Grimm was not giving
the audience a reason to care about the main character, Portland police detective
Nick Burkhardt (David Giuntoli). Speaking as a huge fan
of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the audience cared about her DEEPLY. Not just whether she’d survive her battle
with evil; we cared if she’d have a nice date to her prom, that she’d get into
a good college, that she’d stop sleeping with pretty boys who either dumped her
or were in an evil government military organization. The creators of Grimm just assumed we’d care
about Burkhardt because he was the star, he was sort of good-looking, and was a
cop.
The premise behind Grimm was that there was a society of
fairy tale creatures in the world that were called Wessen (one endearing yet
annoying aspect of the show was that all the words describing the mythology
were Germanic in origin, making them difficult to spell or pronounce). Wessen looked human, but could “woge” into
creatures that looked half-human, half-animalistic. Some had magic powers, some were evil, some
were just hungry and ate humans, and some were just refrigerator repairmen.
Burkhardt was the last in the hereditary line of Grimms, who
protected humanity from Wessen, but Burkhardt put a modern twist on the job—instead
of killing ALL Wessen, he instituted a policy of only killing Wessen who
threatened people or other Wessen.
Luckily for him, he was a homicide detective in Portland, where most of
the murders seemed to have some Wessen link.
Grimm did an excellent job of filling out its “Scooby Gang”
including Nick’s detective partner Hank and a Wessen named Monroe who was a
Blutbad (when he woged he turned into a fierce wolf-like creature). Eventually the team included Nick’s fiancée Juliette,
a police sergeant with the unfortunate name of Drew Wu, and Monroe’s finacee,
who woged into an adorable fox-like Wessen.
Complicating matters was the fact that Nick’s boss was a Zauberbiest who
was a member of the royal family that were the hereditary rulers over some
aspects of Wessen society.
Like The X-Files and Buffy, Grimm juggled “monster of the
week” plots with an expanding mythology about how evil elements of Wessen
society was organizing to possibly declare was on humans.
Nick was a bland character, and his relationship with Juliette
was one of those typical TV pairings where the couple is deeply in love because
they are both in their mid-20’s, good looking, and the script requires it. When Juliette got amnesia (that plot device
never gets old), all she could remember about meeting Nick was that she thought
he was cute. They had nothing in common, shared no hobbies, and it was easy to
forget she was a veterinarian because it was seldom mentioned unless it somehow
was required by that week’s plot.
What amused me the most about Grimm was that they never got
the opening credits quite right. The
kept tinkering with them until they finally gave up around season four or
five. They still were terrible, but they
stopped changing.
What distinguished Grimm was the imaginative way it
re-worked old fairy tales into modern morality tales. The supporting cast was excellent as well.
The standout was Silas weir Mitchell as Monroe, a schleppy human that could
transform into a fearsome Wessen, yet was a vegetarian who repaired antique
clocks. His relationship with Rosealie
(Bree Turner) had all the warmth Nick and Juliette’s romance lacked. Russell
Hornsby as Nick’s partner Hank always provided strong support that suggested he
was underused by the writers. Sasha Roiz
was suitably charismatic and mysterious as Nick’s boss, Captain Renard, and
Reggie Lee provided Xander-like comic relief as Officer Wu.
Grimm was never a ratings blockbuster, but expectations were
lower on Friday nights, and it did well enough to make it to 123 episodes. I’ll miss it, but frankly I am not clamoring for
any follow-up TV movies to find out what happens next in the impending
Wessen/Human conflict. Six seasons and 123
episodes is a good run for any TV show.
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