I’m watching this by mistake. It’s the cat’s fault.
You know how you click on a Netflix show and it starts running an episode all by itself? Well, I was trying to watch The Sandman (excellent, btw), hit the wrong button, and then noticed my cat being attacked by one of the neighbourhood ferals. By the time I’d got the hose, soaked all parties, and dried myself down, we were half-way through the first episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. And I was laughing.
It wasn’t love at first sight, I’ll admit. The plotlines are a little thin to begin with, and cop shows have never been my thing. But there was enough there to keep me watching to the end of the episode. Then, since my cat had forgiven me for the impromptu drenching and settled on my lap, I watched the next one. And I kept laughing.
I’m into season three now, and I’m liking Nine-Nine more and more. The characters are real, flawed and slightly-larger-than-life. The premise reminds me a little of Parks and Recreation (another favourite): it’s a workplace comedy; it’s set in an official department; and the main character a) loves their job and b) is utterly irrepressible.
Detective Jake Peralta (Andy Samberg) is our lead, a childish cop with a brilliant – if slightly unhinged – mind. And the supporting cast are equally wacky: you’ll see yourself in at least one of his colleagues, be it fatherly Sergeant Terry Jeffords, rebellious Rosa Diaz, or ambitious Amy Santiago (guilty!).
As our boys (and girls) in blue muddle from one mishap to the next (a potential Anthrax scare that turns out to be baking powder; a city-wide exercise in in which the 99 tire of being hostages and start taking out the terrorists) it’s easy to be drawn in. As a show, Brooklyn Nine-Nine is a light-hearted winner – even for those of us who’ve never had any predilection for cop or crime shows. And by that, I mean both me and my cat.