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A wise owl once said that good things come to those who wait. The addendum which they always failed to make clear is that disappointment is much harder to bear after long periods of salivating anticipation. Almost exactly a year and a half after it first aired in America on HBO, Bored to Death has finally arrived on British television. Devised and written by the novelist Jonathan Ames (if that means anything - and there's no reason why it should) the show chronicles the efforts of a fictionalised version of Ames (played by Jason Schwartzman, exuding the same 'broken teddy bear' vibe he always does) to shake off his writers' funk by metamorphosing into his favourite pillar of American masculinity: the (unlicensed) private detective. Sounds promising enough, you may think, as I certainly did back in the devil-may-care days of late 2009. So why is the first episode so tedious?
The series begins with Jonathan outside his Brooklyn apartment, watching his girlfriend leave him as movers pack her belongings into the back of a van. She objects to his continued drinking and smoking of pot, even though he insists that “it's dangerous to go cold turkey” and reminds her that he's reduced himself to white wine for her. These last-ditch appeals don't help his case, though, and he returns to his apartment dejected and hugging himself. Realising that his now ex-girlfriend has taken all the furniture and left only his stacks of books behind, Jonathan throws himself into reading, particularly gorging himself on Raymond Chandler novels. After what must have been a good period but represented as about ten seconds, he has the brainwave to advertise himself on Craigslist (any American readers care to explain?) as an unlicensed private investigator. In his words, being open about his unlicensed status makes it “slightly less illegal”. Soon his first real case comes calling, as we knew it would.
Providing camaraderie for Jonathan are his best friend Ray, played by The Hangover's bearded and portly Zach Galifiakanis, a dry-witted comic book artist who has plenty of relationship problems of his own, breaking down into tears in the first episode for vaguely upsetting his girlfriend; and Jonathan's flamboyant editor George Christopher, played by Ted Danson, ably channelling his inner silver fox. Like Jonathan, he has a predilection for smoking pot and cracking witty one-liners; at first living vicariously through his younger friend's adventures, then eventually sharing in them, pleading with Jonathan to accompany him on whatever madcap experience he's undergoing. The first episode is a fairly routine missing person case, when Jonathan is contacted by a young woman whose sister has apparently disappeared, possibly kidnapped by her tattooed punk boyfriend. In workmanlike fashion, Jonathan soon tracks them down to a seedy hotel, where the boyfriend has seemingly tied the girl to the bed after she threatened to break up with him. Striking a chord with Jonathan, the two men share some pot, until the police arrive. The embarrassed girl blamed Jonathan for breaking into their private hotel room, and he is promptly arrested.
On paper, all of this sounds perfectly above average and probably very enjoyable. On the screen, however, it makes for a plodding and oddly depressing experience. What should have been a polished, sleek comedy comes over as slightly annoying and more than a little self-indulgent. Where it should grab you from the first minute with sparkling wit and cool dialogue, the show's pacing is slow bordering on tedious (though the Emmy-winning opening credits and theme, sung by Schwartzman, are undeniably impressive). I'm not against slow pacing per se, but Jonathan is left alone to ruminate in silence too much on a life we're expected to sympathise with instantly, while the audience is left listening to generic indie music. Inversely, his inspired decision to moonlight as a P.I. in an attempt to recover some self-affirmation occurs much too quickly to be believable, as if the show decides to rush the action and stretch out moments of inaction. It's also a pity that Schwartzman's side-kicks aren't given more air time, and the episode's message (sensitive men are the real hostages to love) is too subliminal.
All in all, then, Bored to Death is a lesson on the perils of anticipating an amazing panorama but finding the upward climb was more rewarding than the view from the summit. Not terrible, by any means - but certainly lacklustre and slight demoralising.
The second episode of Bored to Death airs tonight at 10pm on Sky Atlantic
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