A few nights ago I was scavenging Netflix for anything I could have playing in the background while working.
My criteria are simple: a series to have more than two seasons, it must be somewhat entertaining, and it can’t have anything to do with sexual predators.
After rummaging around for a while, I came across Grimm. Six seasons, non-sexual monsters, 89% on Rotten Tomatoes, whoop! Relieved, I lowered my butt into the butt-shaped groove I’ve diligently fashioned in the sofa and hit play.
At first, the show reminded my of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I got excited, but then I remembered there’s no Buffy and no Spike. More importantly, there are no jokes. The two things the series have in common are visual effects where people’s faces turn into monsters and the stories are entertaining.
The premise of the show is a spin on the classic fairytales by the Brothers Grimm—the monsters and gore are lovely. There is even a book with pencil drawings of all sorts of creatures that the main character is leafing through to read up on the weirdness he’s dealing with. I can’t tell you more about him except he’s a cop in Portland named Nick Burkhardt and he’s got American hair.
I can’t tell you more about the monsters except they are called Wesen, which I found funny because the word “vesen” in Icelandic means “a minor nuisance.”
I couldn’t for the life of me name a single actor or actress. In fact, all the cast looks like they are some famous actor’s uncle or sister. I wish someone would remake this with a better script and better actors. I wish I had the number of Joss Whedon so I could ignore time zones and annoy him in the middle of the night with this “great idea.”
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