Detectives on television tend to wear a uniform as somber as their expressions. Think of Luther’s rugged tweed, Saga Norén’s biker jacket or even Columbo’s iconic trench: Staring into the chilly recesses of human nature seems to require a few extra layers.
R.J. Decker, the quick-witted news photographer-turned-private eye at the heart of ABC’s eponymous twist on the crime procedural, is a different beast entirely. Not since Magnum P.I. have so many crimes been solved by a man with a wardrobe consisting almost entirely of Hawaiian shirts.
“When you’re going to play a character like this, it can tend to be buttoned-up and post-apocalyptic, and living in that world is sort of bleak,” says Scott Speedman, who stars as Decker. “This is the opposite of that, so it’s a lot of fun.”
R.J. Decker, which returns for a second season this week, bucks the recent trend for gritty, brooding cop shows where cracking a smile is the greatest crime of all. Set in Fort Lauderdale, on the palm tree-dotted coast of South Florida, the series follows a colorful cast of schemers, hustlers and other assorted scoundrels caught up in capers involving everything from corrupt politicians to carnivorous plants.
When it debuted earlier this year, it quickly became my go-to choice for comfort television: a series with all the hooks and twists of a classic mystery-of-the-week, set in a breezy, sun-kissed world teeming with lovable oddballs. It’s as enjoyable and messy as biting into a fresh mango and letting the juice dribble down your chin.
Kevin EG Perry: Collected Works 