Two British lads are murdered at their boarding school. They decide to remain on earth and solve supernatural mysteries. The Dead Boy Detectives are not particularly bright. The journey from Neil Gaiman’s comics to HBO to Netflix has aged them up and dumbed them down. They’re also untrustworthy. We’re told they’ve tackled supernatural creatures for decades, yet they’re surprised by each they meet. We’re told the lads died at 16 when they’re clearly in their late twenties. We’re told they’re trapped in Port Townsend yet they’re filming in Vancouver. I forgive these falsehoods because the Dead Grown-Up Detectives are incredibly charming.
Edwin Paine (George Rexstrew) is book smart, yet prissy and arrogant. Charles Rowland (Jayden Revri) is empathic, yet clumsy and careless. In a world of sadists, nihilists and apathetic bureaucrats the Detectives are the only ones who give a damn about human suffering. Their friendship is loving, loyal and spiced with sexual tension. They won’t let anyone separate them. The dynamic recalls the likable leads from Gaiman’s Good Omens.
The overstuffed opening introduces multiple characters and story arcs. The “Boys” recruit a surly psychic named Crystal (Kassius Nelson), combat a witch (scenery-chewing Jenn Lyon), and hide from Death (Sandman cameo Kirby Howell-Baptiste). The second episode adds more friends and foes to the mix. By episode three we settle into a case-of-the-week structure. The Detectives face ghostly killers, demon stalkers and hungry beasts. Each adventure forces the protagonists to cope with their own past traumas. Abusive relationships are a recurring theme so consider this a trigger warning.
I don’t recommend binging Dead Boy Detectives in one sitting. Lazy writing and a repetitive formula may get on the nerves. Not enough detecting. Too many deus ex machinas. But the characters kept me coming back. Charles’ anger issues, Edwin’s repressed sexuality and Crystal’s messy past provide compelling throughlines. I wanted to see what came next, even as I braced myself for the inevitable Netflix cliff hanger.
Odds and Ends
- Favorite Episodes: 3 and 7.
- Weakest Episode: 5. The filler case recycled too many ideas from earlier tales.
- I adore Edwin. Uptight brainy types are my catnip. Of course, every queer gent falls madly in love with him. It was veering on a harem anime at points.
- It feels appropriate that two of Edwin’s suitors (Lukas Gage and Joshua Colley) were on Love, Victor.
- Why does Charles rely so often on physical combat? He’s rotten at it. We keep watching him get curb stomped till something stronger saves him.
- I hate the trope where characters withhold key information that would clearly aid their friends. Crystal returns to that well several times.
- In episode 2 Edwin cannot enter his library. He stands in the doorway fuming while Charles reads his books out loud. Why doesn’t Charles simply bring the books to him? Did the writers decide he hadn’t enough dialogue?
- Minor antagonist Caitlin Reilly has a delightful sketch comedy channel.
- This would play very differently if they’d cast teens. Their rash decisions would make more sense. But the abuse they endure might be too much to bear.
You can find my reviews on The Avocado, Letterboxd and Serializd. My podcast, Rainbow Colored Glasses, can be found here.