Inspector Ike

 Inspector Ike (Graham Mason, 2026) is an interesting demonstration of the limits of irony.  Co-written by Mason and the star, Ikechukwu Ufomadu, the picture takes parody to its logical, if futile, limit -- that is, the parody is essentially identical with the thing parodied.  The mirroring is so exact that the point of the exercise becomes suspect.  In Inspectors Ike, the filmmakers produce a replica of a 1970's movie of the week made by one of the three major networks for broadcast on prime-time TV.  The reproduction of this longlost media artifact is so exact that there are almost no clues on-screen that the thing is a parody.  Inspector Ike is like something from a time capsule stuffed with sixty-year old stuff mostly not worth saving.  The picture imitates prime-time detective shows, most specifically Columbo.  These programs, usually about 90 minutes long with commercials, were cheap to produce, could be shot on-location on city streets, and, more or less, replaced Westerns as the staple of TV viewing between about 1965 and 1980 -- the studios made innumerable numbers of these things, most of them more or less identical.  These shows featured a charismatic lead actor playing the detective, a cast of nobodies in support, and, often, an equally charismatic, and recognizable villain.  A crime is staged in the first half hour -- often the detective who will solve the murder doesn't appear until after the second commercial break.  The detective engages in a duel of wits with the killer whose identity is established beyond any doubt in the first ten minutes.  The killer is arrogant and thinks he is smart enough to get away with his carefully designed plot.  But the detective intervenes and, after a series of encounters with the bad guy and witnesses, solves the crime.  The audience is gratified to see pride and arrogance rebuked (all TV in this decade was didactic) and everything is neatly tied-up with perfect clarity (and without any moral or narrative ambiguity) by the final titles.  There is very little violence and no bang-bang shootouts or car chases.  After the initial crime, no one is in any danger.  The victim is usually pretty abhorrent as well and, so, in these light entertainments there's nothing really at stake.  These shows had a catchy theme and clever title sequence.  The shows were brightly lit and wholly lacking in any atmospherics.  Everything is shot like a engineering diagram for maximum clarity.  Zoom effects and iris shots are used to highlight plot points.  The color is watery and diffuse.  The hero detective is the reason to watch the shows -- the part is generally played by a half-retired Hollywood or TV star:  for instance, Peter Falk as Columbo or Angela Lansbury or Andy Griffith.  The show rides on the shoulders of its star who is charming, ingenious, humble, and with winning ways.  

Inspector Ike mimics this formula with uncanny precision.  Ike is New York's greatest detective.  The title sequence shows handcuffs being literally served up to bad guys.  The handcuffs are gold and glint.  Inspector Ike winks winsomely at the camera and raises a glass of champagne in a toast -- the crystal of the champagne glass also twinkles.  An arrogant, selfish and entitled avant-garde theater actor is tired of serving as the understudy to an equally arrogant and selfish leading man.  The villain takes his longsuffering date to a theater production that is eight hours long and consists of two slobs on stage replicating their daily activities in a business called Al's Pizza.  Needless to say everyone in the audience falls asleep. The villain sneaks off for a couple hours to bump off his rival; then, he returns to the theater for the end of the show.  His alibi is that he's been with his girlfriend for the duration of the eight hour staging of "Al's Pizza."  Two hapless uniformed officers investigate the disappearance of the leading man.  It turns out that wife of the leading man has conspired with the villain to eliminate her husband, also the scion of a wealthy real estate mogul.  After complications, Ike solves the murder, slaps handcuffs on the villain and, then, raises a glass of champagne as a toast to his acumen -- the crystal of the glass twinkles like his eyes.  

The duplication of circa 1970 Tv "movie of the week" detective shows is so perfect that there's no reason to watch Inspector Ike.  If this sort of thing interests you, watch reruns of Columbo or Matlock instead -- those shows are slightly better and lack some of the dithering dialogue that the director and leading man apparently intend as amusing.  The film's eerie replication of shows of this sort makes Inspector Ike superfluous.  I don't doubt that this is part of the movie's strategy, that is, wholly intentional -- Inspector Ike is a form of conceptual art.  It's more interesting to write about than to watch.