"Sanguine Love" sported some of the most beautiful cinematography in the history of the show, and if Carmine had any say in that, he should be allowed to walk around the set sans pants for the rest of his days. The aerial shots of the snow-covered city were lovely, and the hoarfrosted, tree-lined park was simply exquisite, a scene from a Disney fairy tale. Of only the rest of the episode had lived up to its cinematographic promise, and if only Carmine Giovinazzo had actually written it.
According to IMDB, a Carmine Giovinazzo wrote it, but it wasn't the Carmine Giovinazzo of CSI:NY. It was his older cousin, Carmine "Buddy" Giovinazzo, who scores movies and directs German TV shows like Tatoert. This wasn't precisely hidden knowledge; it was readily available on IMDB, but considering the buzz generated by the announcement that Carmine would be penning an episode, I find it disingenuous of TPTB to let the fans think that the Carmine, the one that makes fans tingly in their naughty parts, was responsible for it. Carmine didn't exactly clarify the issue, either, when asked if he enjoyed writing the episode, and maybe it's the hard-dying revenant of the academic in me, but it feels decidedly slimy for Carmine to publicly take credit for what he didn't write, even if that information is readily available elsewhere.
The episode itself had promise, though it was nearly derailed by a sloppy prop department who did an execrable job of distorting the boyfriend's face in the "blurry" death photo. My myopic ass recognized his features immediately, and making characters with excellent vision behave like legally blind lemurs with traumatic brain injuries to further the plot was a minor instance of the Pudding!! Directive.
What is the Pudding!! Directive, you ask?
A bit of backstory:
On a recent episode of Supernatural, Sam and Dean have infiltrated a sanitarium to investigate a series of suicides. At one point, they sneak into the morgue to examine a victim. They're caught by a nurse, who understandably demands to know what they're doing there. Dean doesn't have a ready answer, so he drops his pants, waves his arms over his head, and gleefully shouts, "Pudding!!" to distract her from their snooping.
Hence, the Pudding!! Directive Resolution, which reads as follows:
WHEREAS, we, the writers of CSI:NY need to advance the plot of our latest ridiculous, trend-hopping episode, and WHEREAS, that advancement requires that one or more characters behave in a manner contrary to their previously-established natures, and WHEREAS, we, the writers, realize that those among our fanbase who do not sniff glue, eat paint chips, or huff whippets might be moved to question these actions,
THEREFORE, be it here RESOLVED by those here assembled that from henceforth, we shall engage in the Pudding Directive to distract those viewers from the inconsistencies and gross inaccuracies to which they are routinely subjected in the name of profit and slothful expediency.
THEREFORE, be it here resolved by those here assembled that the Pudding Directive shall be defined thusly:
Whenever a necessary plot contrivance threatens the ability of viewers to suspend disbelief or causes them to ponder the whys and wherefores of such an egregious act of character assassination, or whenever a necessary plot contrivance causes viewers to put their fist through the television set, then a male character on the show shall not hesitate to drop his pants, wave his arms above his head, and scream, "Pudding!!" until such time as the inconsistencies are forgotten or adequately overshadowed sufficiently to ensure our continued employment.
THEREFORE, be it here resolved that those here assembled shall not abuse this Directive, but employ it for the betterment of the program and our profession.
Resolved on this Day of January 25, in the Year of our Lord 2010.
The CSI:NY Writing Staff
Surely Adam could've cleaned up the photo to allow a clear image of the killer's face. Danny had just made a point of noting that he was a child of the digital age, and this is a show and a franchise that prides itself on its fantastical technological capabilities. They've enhanced license plates from Saturn, for Christ's sake, and created a virtual crime scene by synthesizing and amalgamating the data from hundreds of cellphones. You're telling me that they can't clarify a single still image? Please. Try harder next time.
No one dropped trou, but Flack looked lovely in the snow. I miss the suits. He looked dashing in black, I grant you, but Flack is rather drab without the suits, far less distinctive than he once was. There isn't much to distinguish him from Danny(aside from the better hygiene). His snark is still there, but there's a more caustic edge to it now. I don't think we'll be seeing the gleeful, boisterous Flack of "Child's Play" ever again, and that makes me a sad panda. I'm not criticizing the change; a seismic shift was inevitable after Angell's death and his subsequent execution of Simon Cade, but it makes me sad all the same.
The much-ballyhooed "vampires" were a complete non-factor. Unlike other episodes, where we're subjected to an interminable immersion in the subculture of the week, i.e., the endless slow-motion shots of the lingerie football league, we see the "vampires" for a minute. Maybe. You could've substituted "vampire" with "Jain" for all the difference it would've made. Yawn. The entire case was leaden and felt like an outline they decided to film. It had the necessary framework to get from A to B to Z, but lacked vitality. Aside from the fun Danny-Flack scene in the victim's apartment, the entire cast seemed bored with the material.
As a consequence, so was I. C-