Post by nhmystix on Mar 5, 2007 20:10:58 GMT -6
www.dvdtimes.co.uk/content.php?contentid=64255
I'm finding that the current season of CSI has been gifted something never before seen amongst the glut of blood, shell casings and mass spectrometry of previous seasons. And that's comedy. A good deal of that has to do with the ridiculous manner with which this season ended, a cosy little scene in which - spoilers be d**ned! - Grissom and Sara wound down from the solving of their latest case by sharing a bed and wandering through an apartment in their dressing gowns. The implication was clear, that in their sometimes desperate search to leverage some personality into the CSI characters, the producers had decided that Grissom and Sara must be having an affair. Given that the relationship between the two was, up to that point, similar to one between a socially backward biology teacher and his star, but cripplingly shy, pupil, it made for ridiculous viewing, which can't be what the producers intended.
Actually, there are moments of comedy in the first episode of this season, none of which are, one feels, intentional. The CSI team appear onscreen wandering towards the screen in slow motion. Catherine Willows gazes out to one side of the screen and Grissom adopts a brusque, business-like attitude. Were it not for the absence of blue fur, a green creature with one huge eye and a weird shape-changing lizard, it might well have been Monsters, Inc! Or Armageddon! Odd how it seems to require all six CSI officers (and Brass) to cover the blowing up of a home in a trailer park.
But things get odder still when Catherine and Warwick leave to investigate the murder of a prostitute and, whilst the body cools, he mentions that he got married the day before. The look on her face - going for shock but with a top lip that is slightly inflated on one side due to some suspect plastic surgery - prompts the viewer to think back to three or four seasons ago when Warwick and Catherine looked deep into one another's eyes over a laptop running a fingerprint scan. But nothing happened then and nothing happens now, only that Catherine has something else to look miserable about, other than the aging process and the lack of promotional opportunities with Grissom still about. Indeed, she says as much later, explaining that it was the fantasy of being with Warwick that was great. When you lose that fantasy, she tells him, "...it just kinda sucks!" Heavens, that's the kind of thing that a thirteen-year-old girl might get upset about, not a fiftysomething ex-stripper who works in a crime lab. And that's not even the few mentions of Nick's kidnapping in the Quentin Tarantino-directed Grave Danger at the end of the previous season - "How're you doing, Nick?" "Above ground, Wilcox!" - and his flapping at a bug as it crawls up his arm.
But it is Nick who offers the viewer a glimpse of the measures taken by these actors to give their characters some depth. Many are the tales told by actors of their early days on television and in film in which they pleaded with directors to add to their meagre screen time with the chance of making their moments on the screen more memorable. The begging to be permitted to give their character a limp, a Spanish accent, greying hair, a outsized pair of trousers, a pair of spectacles or a hankering for knickers is surely loudest amongst those who feel destined for greater things. Doubtless searching the cupboard for a character and finding it bare, George Eads grows a moustache. Which probably says everything that one needs to know about the producer's disinterest in Nick. Never mind that they could have done much, much more with his being buried alive, Nick's most memorable moment in this entire season is his growing of a cookie duster. Said moustache is shaved after a few episodes, suggesting that even George Eads gave up on it eventually.
Elsewhere, the producers waste the return of Lady Heather later in the season, the tension between Grissom and Catherine over a position in management gets an occasional mention but is otherwise quickly forgotten about and Greg Sanders, who once promised much, bumbles about in the background. And then I compare it to CSI: New York, which currently plays on Saturday night, and find the original show so lacking. Danny Messer's, "Y'alright?" to Lindsay Monroe offers much more characterisation than this entire half-season. This season is, as CSI has always been, simply about the cases. What is unfortunate about late-period CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is that it's no longer even getting the pick of CSI storylines as the rather dull stories in this half-season set make clear as these twelve, expanded upon below, amply demonstrate.
I'm finding that the current season of CSI has been gifted something never before seen amongst the glut of blood, shell casings and mass spectrometry of previous seasons. And that's comedy. A good deal of that has to do with the ridiculous manner with which this season ended, a cosy little scene in which - spoilers be d**ned! - Grissom and Sara wound down from the solving of their latest case by sharing a bed and wandering through an apartment in their dressing gowns. The implication was clear, that in their sometimes desperate search to leverage some personality into the CSI characters, the producers had decided that Grissom and Sara must be having an affair. Given that the relationship between the two was, up to that point, similar to one between a socially backward biology teacher and his star, but cripplingly shy, pupil, it made for ridiculous viewing, which can't be what the producers intended.
Actually, there are moments of comedy in the first episode of this season, none of which are, one feels, intentional. The CSI team appear onscreen wandering towards the screen in slow motion. Catherine Willows gazes out to one side of the screen and Grissom adopts a brusque, business-like attitude. Were it not for the absence of blue fur, a green creature with one huge eye and a weird shape-changing lizard, it might well have been Monsters, Inc! Or Armageddon! Odd how it seems to require all six CSI officers (and Brass) to cover the blowing up of a home in a trailer park.
But things get odder still when Catherine and Warwick leave to investigate the murder of a prostitute and, whilst the body cools, he mentions that he got married the day before. The look on her face - going for shock but with a top lip that is slightly inflated on one side due to some suspect plastic surgery - prompts the viewer to think back to three or four seasons ago when Warwick and Catherine looked deep into one another's eyes over a laptop running a fingerprint scan. But nothing happened then and nothing happens now, only that Catherine has something else to look miserable about, other than the aging process and the lack of promotional opportunities with Grissom still about. Indeed, she says as much later, explaining that it was the fantasy of being with Warwick that was great. When you lose that fantasy, she tells him, "...it just kinda sucks!" Heavens, that's the kind of thing that a thirteen-year-old girl might get upset about, not a fiftysomething ex-stripper who works in a crime lab. And that's not even the few mentions of Nick's kidnapping in the Quentin Tarantino-directed Grave Danger at the end of the previous season - "How're you doing, Nick?" "Above ground, Wilcox!" - and his flapping at a bug as it crawls up his arm.
But it is Nick who offers the viewer a glimpse of the measures taken by these actors to give their characters some depth. Many are the tales told by actors of their early days on television and in film in which they pleaded with directors to add to their meagre screen time with the chance of making their moments on the screen more memorable. The begging to be permitted to give their character a limp, a Spanish accent, greying hair, a outsized pair of trousers, a pair of spectacles or a hankering for knickers is surely loudest amongst those who feel destined for greater things. Doubtless searching the cupboard for a character and finding it bare, George Eads grows a moustache. Which probably says everything that one needs to know about the producer's disinterest in Nick. Never mind that they could have done much, much more with his being buried alive, Nick's most memorable moment in this entire season is his growing of a cookie duster. Said moustache is shaved after a few episodes, suggesting that even George Eads gave up on it eventually.
Elsewhere, the producers waste the return of Lady Heather later in the season, the tension between Grissom and Catherine over a position in management gets an occasional mention but is otherwise quickly forgotten about and Greg Sanders, who once promised much, bumbles about in the background. And then I compare it to CSI: New York, which currently plays on Saturday night, and find the original show so lacking. Danny Messer's, "Y'alright?" to Lindsay Monroe offers much more characterisation than this entire half-season. This season is, as CSI has always been, simply about the cases. What is unfortunate about late-period CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is that it's no longer even getting the pick of CSI storylines as the rather dull stories in this half-season set make clear as these twelve, expanded upon below, amply demonstrate.