By Heather Cee
You know, for a private investigator., Mick St. John is remarkably unstealthy. Take into consideration that he’s a vampire and one wonders how he’s managed to last 60 years with his head still attached to his body, never mind a healthy career in helping “innocents.”
Wait, we get it – Mick has a temper. He’s a one-man Brute Squad willing to dish out persuasion on an abusive husband with his fists and knees. While endearing in a just desserts kind of way, it betrays his lazy approach to the P.I. gig back in ’83 – a few years before he takes on that case that changes his life forever. After putting a curbside smackdown on his client’s husband, he hooks up with Josef in a swingin’ vampire bar to get his snacking on (complete with white jacket and “Hungry Like the Wolf” pumping on the sound system), only to discover that his client has been found with a bullet in her brain.
Looks like suicide, smells like murder. Mick skips judge and jury and heads straight to the execution, tracking down the victim’s husband as his bald head is getting out of Dodge. If only Mick hadn’t tipped off the detective on scene before deciding to suck some justice from the killer’s neck – a killer who is conveniently saved by the arrival of the police and inconveniently arrested knowing Mick’s true nature. Cue indignation and angst, bring down to a low simmer for 25 years.
Now the killer has been released from prison and he has a lot of downtime research on vampires under his belt, along with a new book out about being wrongfully convicted of crimes he absolutely did commit. So Mick has much to be peeved about, with a dirtbag back on the streets and his secret on the line. Making things worse? Our killer’s right back in the saddle with the “love their money and kill ‘em” scam and his target is the book’s author, who also happens to be Beth’s friend.
There’s nothing quite so inept as a vampire P.I. with a vendetta, as Mick indulges in some high-profile stalking of Mr. Bald and Bad at a book release party, swarming with people and cameras. This culminates in an ill-advised showdown in the men’s bathroom that ends in a crazy assault set-up, which would be kinda creepy if the entire scenario didn’t rely on Mick being a dumbass.
[nms:cbs moonlight,4,0]
Equally stupid is Beth’s author friend claiming to have searched everywhere for Mick St. John, the investigator she blames for our killer’s set-up back in ’83. Considering St. John’s still in L.A. and still a private investigator, her skills as a researcher are highly suspect. Particularly when she’s able to track down a picture of Mick from 1950, which he dismisses as being a picture of his father.
At least Beth doesn’t seem to be buying this crap. Indeed, her suspicions run rampant this episode, intercut with vivid flashbacks of the night Mick saved her from his toothy ex-wife. We’re also introduced to Josh the Boyfriend, who works in the DA’s office and is growing increasingly annoyed with Beth’s semi-obsession with Mick. Before you can roll your eyes at how convenient his profession is for plot, Moonlight does good by tossing Mick and Josh together in a room for the last part of the episode – hello tension, pleased to meet you. And nice to see Sophia Myles take the plucky reporter shtick down a notch, and nicer still to see her tolerance for Mick’s bull$h!t wear thin.
Things eventually come to a head, with crazy killer guy breaking into Mick’s Fortress of Solitude and putting his filthy hands all over the blood supply. He then shoots himself in the shoulder with Mick’s gun and manages a call to 911 simultaneously, leaving Mick little time to be impressed or run for the hills with blood in tow. Now on the lam, we are treated to a clandestine meeting between Mick and Josef in a well-lit place:
Mick: Boo hoo, I didn’t do it!
Josef: Your life would be so much easier if you, like, killed people. And stuff. Being gooey over that reporter is knocking you off your game.
Mick: OH NO YOU DIDN’T.
Josef: I know a guy. New city, new identity. Specializes in vamps.
Mick: I can’t! People to help, my own soul to save.
Josef: Later, bitch. People to eat, things to do.
Why are these two “best friends” again? I mean, my best friend isn’t a Battlestar Galactica fan, but the moment she turns to me and says, “I have joined the legions of Satan and must eat the entrails of small children and puppies,” I’m fairly certain we’ll have to go our separate ways. There’s details, and then there’s fundamentals. Or maybe the good-looking vamps are obligated to hang out together?
With nowhere to go, Mick goes to Beth, who takes advantage of BuzzWire having “the biggest syndicated feed on the ‘net” (snort!) to broadcast video of Mick proclaiming his innocence. Because this is a good idea for a vampire and private detective to do. The killer issues an ultimatum by phone: turn yourself into the police or I kill the woman who was nice enough to write a book about me. With help from Josh, they issue a decoy announcement to the press that Mick’s turned himself in, when in actuality he and Beth are staging a rescue of Beth’s friend. And they do, but not before Beth is forced to kill the Bad Man as he’s holding a blowtorch over Mick’s head – while having more flashback to fire and teeth.
Moonlight seems to be taking baby steps in the right direction. But it needs to stop assuming that its audience is stupid, what with the pie-chart dialogue and insistence on filing away the sharp edges of its hero’s essential nature. Give Alex O’Loughlin more moments like this episode’s final scene, where he’s broken and desperate and fresh out of glib comments and smirks. Put Mick on his knees – it’s the only way we’re going to buy the conceit this show is based on. It’s his show, dammit. Let him prove it. And not through voiceovers. Those needs to go yesterday.
Heather Cee has been writing for music sites for several years but genre media is her original fandom. She’s a History major dropout, loves music, Batman, and the color green, and thinks Laura Roslin is the most kick ass woman on television. She currently works as a website editor in Tucson, Arizona, where she lives with her husband and a ridiculous amount of CDs, records, books, and DVDs. One day she hopes to own grown-up furniture and pants other than jeans.
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