“Stay in the Car” Syndrome

There’s this thing in law enforcement shows where someone who’s not really qualified nonetheless insists upon coming along with the police officer or detective, and for some unknown reason the police person permits them to (presumably because they’re very personally invested, or have some particularly useful knowledge), and then when they get there, the police person orders them to “stay in the car.”  Then they generally don’t stay in the car, and end up either (a) saving the day when the police person can’t or (b) getting everyone in even more trouble.  Version A is more common than version B, in my experience.

There are, of course, very good reasons why law enforcement types don’t bring victims’ family members, consultants, untrained enthusiasts, medical examiners, and random amnesia victims along into dangerous situations without serious preparation.  And those reasons dictate that the law enforcement type shouldn’t even let the unqualified person come along—no matter how useful and/or passionate they may seem.  Letting them come along and then ordering them to stay in the car is just dumb.  What makes the officer think that staying in the car is any more satisfying to civilian, or for that matter, any more useful to the officer, than staying back at the precinct would be?  But I get why writers do this. There are lots of reasons:  It allows the underestimated person to demonstrate their skill or passion, it allows the highly-invested person to be there when the drama goes down, it heightens the stakes.

But the lesson, most often, is that the police person was wrong to underestimate the value and/or skill and/or passion of the person they ordered to stay in the car.  So as a champion of the underestimated and marginalized, I should love this device.  It breaks up our assumptions about who’s capable enough to get in the mix and make a difference.   

So why do I find this trope so infuriating?  I’ve given this a lot of thought, and finally settled on the following:  Most of the time, this trope doesn’t end up empowering the underestimated.   It ends up demonstrating that the underestimated are untrustworthy or bad at following directions.  Or—and this more and more, recently—it ends up disempowering an otherwise competent woman.  Here’s how I get there: with the notable exception of Blindspot, the examples that stick in my mind involve very capable police women ordering able-bodied but fundamentally unqualified men to stay in the car, and being proven wrong when those men disobey and save the day.  Richard Castle.  Beaumont Rosewood.  Lucifer Morningstar.  This isn’t about underestimating at all:  these policewomen are right.  The men are, demonstrably far less trained, for the most part less qualified, to handle the situation at hand.  Involving the men will undermine the legality of any arrest that comes out of the encounter.  And yet the show effectively sends the message that the women, no matter how well trained or capable, just aren’t as equipped to handle difficult situations as the unqualified men.  Humph, I say.  Humph.

And here’s what’s really odd about this.  As I run down these shows, I can’t help but notice that each one features a man who doggedly pursues an uninterested woman, assuming that the repeated application of his charisma will ultimately turn her around into liking him romantically.  And I have no doubt that, as it did in Castle, it will ultimately work in the others, because that’s how these sorts of shows operate.  But to connect that to the “stay in the car” dynamic—the dynamic that demonstrates that these women have poor judgment (at least when it comes to these men)—seems to me a disturbing pattern.

Rosewood (Fox, new Fall 2015.  Banter procedural.)

Watched: first two episodes

Premise:  Private medical examiner and a reluctant cop solve crimes in Miami

Promise:  There’s a lot to recommend this show.  I love that its leads are competent people of color and minorities without branding them as “exceptional” specimens of their respective categories.   Hooray for lead characters of color who are very good at their jobs!  Hooray for the everyday treatment of a lesbian couple!   But I ended up losing interest a couple of episodes in.  Maybe it was unconvincing acting by a few of the players.  Maybe it was that I wasn’t engaging with the mystery elements of the procedural.  Maybe it was the subtle but insidious reliance on racial stereotypes.  Maybe it was the “wait in the car” dynamic that felt old the moment it played.  But what I actually think turned me off was the lead character’s obstinate refusal to recognize that the police woman just wasn’t into him.  He had this sunny, charismatic attitude that she just didn’t realize yet how charming he was.  Maybe he was right, but I didn’t want to watch him be rewarded for what came across to me as disrespect.  

Verdict:  I’m out.

Lucifer (Fox, new.  Banter procedural.)

Watched: several episodes

Premise:  The devil (yep, that one) and a reluctant cop solve crimes in Los Angeles.

Promise:  The show is a very liberal adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Lucifer comic book.  I’ll start with a side note:  Gaiman’s Lucifer was intentionally modeled on David Bowie, so I found it jarring timing for them to have picked an actor with such a different look.  But Tom Ellis’s talent for walking the line between loathsome and charming (see, e.g., Rush) is well-used here.  And at least he has a reason for acting superior and being so presumptuously, smarmily disrespectful to everyone around him. (Including the lead woman, who he pursues unrelentingly under the presumption that his boundless charm will eventually win her over.)  Also, It seems a quibble, but it actually bugs me that we have to get all the way to “devil” to find an unapologetically bisexual character on television.  That said, although Lucifer is hard to take as a character, he is pretty good at helping to solve crimes, even if his motivations are off.  And he has a pleasant banter with the lead detective and a downright charming relationship with her (kid) daughter.  These things have brought me back for more episodes than I’d have expected in the pilot.  There’s an arc plot surrounding Lucifer’s origins that helps save the show from feeling too gimmicky, but in the end, I wish I cared more about him.  It’s hard to care for someone who doesn’t smile with his eyes.  

  

Verdict:  Not appointment television, and some notably annoying bits, but I’ve enjoyed a good bit of it.

On the DVR/Unreviewed:  I count something like 23 shows.  Wish me luck!