Over the weekend, I attended the terrific ThrillerFest gathering of crime writers in Manhattan — more about that in this space tomorrow — where I was handed a screener DVD of the new TNT series “Rizzoli & Isles” debuting tonight at 10.
There was a lot of buzz at the Grand Hyatt among the writers about their peer Tess Gerritsen’s good fortune in having the world of her novels brought to the screen by the cable network.
Fans of crime fiction often bemoan the fact that moviemakers and TV producers have yet to bring us adaptations of such top practitioners as Lisa Scottoline, Daniel Silva, Alex Berenson and many more.
Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta books have been in development for decades without anything yet appearing on screen (I did an interview with Demi Moore at the time of “A Few Good Men” where she said a Scarpetta movie would be her next project — that was 18 years ago!)
Some writers who have been chosen by Hollywood — notably Sara Paretsky and James Lee Burke — have had their work trashed in movies that have been mercifully forgotten (the horrendous Paretsky movie, “V.I. Warshawski” in 1991, must have been a devastating blow to the fabulous Chicago novelist).
I’ve never read Gerritsen’s popular novels — she has 20 million books in print — but I assume the first episode of the TNT series is a drastic reduction of the qualities that have entertained so many readers.
“Rizzoli & Isles” has above average production values — and two very capable leads in Angie Harmon and Sasha Alexander — but the first episode plays like a mash-up of “CSI,” the Hannibal Lecter novels of Thomas Harris and Cornwell’s Scarpetta stories.
What’s missing in the show — and what is no doubt the strength of the novels — is an individual writer’s voice.
The hour is a mass of cliches — the diabolical genius serial killer who has zeroed in on a law enforcement officer (Harmon) and lives to taunt her; the local cops vs. the FBI rivalry (perhaps the most tired cliche in crime fiction); the family members who kvetch about the work their daughter/sister has chosen to do; cops who have a “personal” stake in the perps they are trying to catch.
“Rizzoli & Isles” also indulges in the same sort of forensics porn that has made the “CSI” franchise unwatchable for many of us. God forbid that a basic cable TV show expose a bare breast or buttock in a love scene, but it is perfectly OK to have a mutilated dead body examined ad nauseam.
Perhaps the producers were trying to jam too much stuff into the premiere episode — and over-indulged in the sensationalism that makes for effective promotional spots — but “Rizzoli & Isles” has a generic feel that doesn’t bode well for its success in a very overcrowded crime drama market.
