Watched a detective show recently and found myself sighing and harrumphing a lot. The dynamic between the male private detective lead and the female police inspector was frustratingly one-sided: he barked, she jumped. It just reminded me of the following kind of scene that we’ve seen a million few times already:
(Following a budget-straining action set-piece in which our foolhardy hero cop shoots a mid-level baddie who tried to bushwhack him:)
INT. APARTMENT – DAY
Our off-duty female cop – we’ll call her SALLY – is watching “Sleepless in Seattle” when there’s a KNOCK at the door.
INT. BATHROOM, APARTMENT – MOMENTS LATER
Our foolhardy hero cop – call him STONE – sits on the edge of the BATH and touches a cut on his forehead; he grimaces.
STONE
– sorry I didn’t tell you ’bout the meet but it was for your own protection –
SALLY
I can handle myself.
He braces himself as Sally approaches with a BAND-AID --
SALLY
This might sting.
-- and she gently places it on the cut on his forehead.
Y’dig? The wounded hero cop whose only safe emotional place is with his partner, a female who is not a love interest, who’s always there to pick up the pieces, who’s really just a cop version of a 1950s housewife.
But what if…
INT. APARTMENT – DAY
SALLY is watching “Sleepless in Seattle” when there’s a KNOCK at the door.
INT. BATHROOM, APARTMENT – MOMENTS LATER
STONE sits on the edge of the BATH and touches a cut on his forehead; he grimaces.
STONE
– sorry I didn’t tell you ’bout the meet but it was for your own protection –
SALLY
Shut it.
She rips open a BAND-AID.
STONE
Watching “Sleepless in Seattle” again, eh?
Off her look he raises his hands in mock surrender.
The band-aid bounces off him and flitters to the floor.
Nothing groundbreaking here.
But I feel better now.
Do you?
