One More Thing...

photo credit: NBC

Last week, I looked at a book that, while it was enjoyable, was too different from other mysteries to fit my expectations for the genre. This week, I want to look at a TV series that has a very important difference from most mysteries but still checks all my boxes.

What Makes it Special

The series in question is Columbo. In each episode, Lt. Columbo, the scatterbrained unassuming police detective in an old coat, solves a murder, frequently uttering his catchphrase (the title of this post.)

What sets Columbo apart from other mysteries is obvious from the very beginning. Each episode begins with the focus on the murder and victim. Usually, the conflict in the first scene sets up the motive. Now that we know who is going to be bumped off and who is doing the bumping, we get to see the crime take place (not in graphic. detail, fortunately). We know “whodunnit” and “howdunnit” from the start.

On paper, this sounds like an incredibly bad premise for a show. Why would anyone sit for over an hour to watch someone solve a crime they already knew the solution to? In fact, doesn’t knowing the solution in the first ten minutes do away with any mystery?

The reason it works is 95% the character Columbo. Genius hides under his absent minded exterior. He is simultaneously relatable, humorous, humble, and competent, all appealing traits. Something I really love about Columbo is that his persona seems almost completely genuine. While his circuitous way of asking questions may be an intentional way to catch suspects off guard, his inability to keep track of pencils or iron his clothing comes naturally.

The other 5% of why the show works is that, by turning the conventions of its genre upside down, it can focus on other fascinating aspects of mystery. In a story that must keep its solution hidden until the end, we aren’t allowed to see the criminal’s plan unfold in real time. We can’t see their premeditation or their reactions to the investigation. It can only be recapped afterward.

The same goes for the detective’s process. When the ending must be kept secret, the investigation must be carefully filtered and filled with plenty of red herrings. In Columbo, none of this is needed. We can follow him every step of the way, hear every question, see every clue, and watch his reactions to the information.

And, frequently, the information Columbo reacts the most to may not seem important at first, even though we know exactly what happened. Other times, the culprit may temporarily outmaneuver Columbo or explain away a clue we were banking on. This means there is still plenty to keep the audience engaged in the story.

Another reason Columbo gets away with such a huge change to the traditional mystery format is by closely adhering to most other traditional mystery elements. Lt. Columbo investigates the crime scene for clues. He questions suspects. The suspects themselves are usually well-rounded people with complex relationships and possible motives. Even Columbo’s quirkiness follows a precedent set by other mysteries. He deserves a place among other popular unlikely sleuths like Miss Marple, Father Brown, or Lord Peter Wimsey.

What it Taught Me

Now that I’ve addressed what makes Columbo a great show from the audience perspective, I want to address it from the perspective of a writer.

If I made the rules, I’d make Columbo required watching for all aspiring mystery writers. It’s taught me a lot and altered the way I approach the genre.

First, it’s a great way to study the mechanics of the genre. When I watch the crime unfold chronologically – motive, preparation, execution, investigation, solution – I get a clearer view of the process than I do when those elements are revealed slowly, incompletely, and somewhat out of order.

I can follow Columbo’s process in a way I could never follow Poirot or Holmes. I can study the pacing and purpose of each plot point. Just like a medical student must learn how the human body functions by looking under the skin, a writer has to learn storytelling by seeing how a story works underneath the drama and plot twists.

The other reason I’d recommend Columbo to anyone interested in writing mystery is that it makes a great study in the conventions and flexibility of the genre.

I’ve always loved mystery, I have loads of Nancy Drew books from my younger years to prove it. A lot of my unfished childhood stories are mysteries.

They’re unfinished because mystery is one of the most intimidating genres to write, especially if you automatically think of Christie-type stories that have a logical but nearly always unsolvable conclusion. Even the considerably less complex Nancy Drew books had their fair share of plot twists and secrets.

Any time I tried to write a mystery, I would give up when I realized I didn’t have enough red herrings, or the solution was obvious too early.

Then I watched Columbo. It had everything I loved about mysteries but didn’t depend on keeping the solution from the audience. The thing that had kept me from having success in mystery writing was absent from Columbo, and it’s a hugely successful show!

I realized that genre conventions are not all or nothing and they are not meant to be obstructions to creativity. If one box on your genre checklist remains uncrossed, don’t see it as a deficiency; use it as a trademark.  

By thinking outside the box, I’ve been able to turn a mystery series idea I’ve shoved onto the back burner multiple times into something workable. Columbo proves that there’s a lot more to a good detective story than wowing the audience with a stunning conclusion. It taught me that there’s always room for one more in your favorite genre. And, if there’s not, a good writer can make room.