Lincoln Rhyme: Bore Collector

Lincoln Rhyme: Hunt for the Bone Collector is profundity for the dullard. I wanted to like it so badly because I like Russell Hornsby from his role on Grimm, and because having a disabled protagonist who's smarter than everybody in the room would cater to my famished id. But the show's sins are just too great too overcome, chief among them the fact that it's terminally boring despite its hysterical, desperate pace.

The only thing thinner than the plots, which are cribbed from rejected early Criminal Minds drafts filched from the shred room at CBS, is the painfully stupid dialogue. The writers have never heard humans talk before and clearly don't trust the audience to make the necessary connections for themselves, because they force Rhyme into soliloquies on the theme of the episode that are meant to make him sound preternaturally erudite but just make him sound like that insufferable bore at the cocktail party who can't resist flashing his intellect like a decidedly unimpressive hardon and reminding all and sundry of that time he was almost selected to appear on Jeopardy. Or that he was once up for tenure at a prestigious university but was thwarted by jealous rivals who were intimidated by his genius. It's a huge turnoff, and frankly, I don't understand why his team doesn't tell him to get stuffed. But they don't. They just gather around and sing paeans to his genius that runs no deeper than the nearest Wikipedia entry.

And that doesn't even get near the mystery about how an NYPD detective injured on the job can afford a live-in nurse, a Professor X-level futuristic wheelchair, and a fancy, high-resolution screen that's hooked into the fastest Internet in the world. Because it sure as hell isn't the buggy, slow American Internet that acts like it's doing you a favor by letting you stream your damn Netflix and read your email at the same time. How does he have all that and live in a glamorous apartment with a multimillion-dollar price tag? I suppose I should be grateful that the showrunners are giving gimp viewers a taste of glamour porn, but I can't shake the feeling that they think the government really does just roll out the money train for its disabled citizens. The naivete is almost charming.

And poor Michael Imperioli. He just looks so defeated by life, puffy and hangdog and wishing he'd just stepped in front of the bus instead of going for this audition. I know that feeling well, and it endears me to him. If it's any consolation, I don't think his suffering will long endure, because this disaster likely doesn't see six episodes.

Hold fast, Mr. Imperioli. Hold fast.