What do you want out of your sitcom? Twenty two-ish minutes of escalating hilarity that, in the end, ties everything up as neatly as a bow knotted by Martha Stewart’s own fastidious hands? Do you want to invest yourself in the characters, or is pointlessly chuckling your chief concern? Are you interested in material with teeth, or would you prefer to watch a toothpaste commercial? Brooklyn Nine-Nine does not and never has fit cleanly into any one of these distinctions over the rest, but as a general rule, the show gives a damn about its human beings and doesn’t like to leave loose ends, yet still finds time to rewrite its blueprint to avoid getting boring. In the past, it has even dared to focus on the reality of being a gay black police captain in the NYPD.
So when “Boyle’s Hunch” decides to make a bold statement about recent news bulletins involving New York’s finest doing less than fine things, it should not come as a shock to veteran Brooklyn Nine-Nine viewers. Yet Holt’s B-plot campaign to boost the NYPD’s public image, with the help of Amy and Gina, comes as a bit of a shock, not simply because of Holt’s involvement—though if anyone should realize that throwing tacky pro-police propaganda posters all over the city is a bad idea, it’s Holt—but because of what that story thread has to say on its topical subject matter. Writer Tricia McAlpin’s script isn’t so brassy as to name-check Eric Garner or Thomas Jennings, and it doesn’t specifically mention the deaths of Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos, either. But it also doesn’t have to, to make its point.
Maybe the only real surprise here is that Brooklyn Nine-Nine hasn’t thought to make this point sooner. In the interest of tamping down hyperbole, “Boyle’s Hunch” isn’t the kind of pop cultural agitator to reignite discussions about police brutality on social media or in the press. The fact that it has anything to say at all, though, is meaningful, and it says plenty without having to lecture its viewers. We watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine because it’s funny, because its cast is uniformly terrific, and because it’s a modern sitcom that’s smartly told. We don’t watch it for searing commentary on the state of the contemporary NYPD, or as a lens for filtering current events through comedy. The efforts made in “Boyle’s Hunch” to achieve both of these goals are no less welcome for that, though.
The episode’s A-plot, perhaps unsurprisingly based on the title, revolves around Boyle cracking a case and possibly making a love connection with Genevieve, an art gallery owner who has the same tastes in food, the same number of pets, and the same sleeping habits as our favorite sidekick. They’re pretty much perfect together, not just Boyle and Genevieve, but Joe Lo Truglio and guest star Mary Lynn Rajskub, who hopefully sticks around for longer than Eva Longoria did in Season Two when Jake needed someone to distract him from his feelings for Amy. The rub, of course, is that Genevieve has just been sentenced to ten years in the clink for a crime that Boyle doesn’t think she actually committed, and so our boys go about trying to exonerate her in the name of justice, and, ultimately, future juicy relationship drama. (Please, please, please let Genevieve be Boyle’s “one.” Seriously, Lo Truglio and Rajskub instantly click from their first lines together.)
And off on the fringes, Rosa and Terry do some good old fashioned sleuthing to prove that Scully and Hitchcock have been eating Rosa’s ice cream. (Moose tracks, man! Stealing food of any kind is low, but moose tracks? That’s the line.) Rosa has thus far been sadly underused on Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s third season, but her C-plot in “Boyle’s Hunch” reminds us that a little of her goes a long way, and also that she doesn’t need a huge canvas to make her comic mark. Watching her put the fear of God Rosa into the presumed thieves, whether she’s simply snarling threats or leaping across the table wielding a spoon with malicious intent, is pure gold (and it helps that the bit pairs Stephanie Beatriz up with Terry Crews, the only person in Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s ensemble capable of matching her physicality as a performer).
“Boyle’s Hunch” is a solid half hour of television. It isn’t flawless—you’d think the show would put just a tad more effort into changing the tone of the department now that The Vulture is in charge, and that Holt wouldn’t be interacting so much with his former employees as he has been—but whether Jake and Boyle are throwing around spider puns on celebrity names (“Tarantula Bassett” being the clear winner), or singing their own detective-based version of “My Humps,” or Rosa is threatening to bring agonizing doom down upon Hitchcock and Scully, it’s very, very funny. The laughter dies in Holt’s office, unusual, given Andre Braugher’s reliability at turning stoicism into humor, but seeing as how these scenes reference awful real-world tragedies (inflicted on both civilians and officers alike), maybe the lack of punchlines is a nod to decorum. These moments get at the truth: People are mad. People are outraged. And they should be, too, though the series never lets us forget about our sympathies for Amy and her colleagues, too. If only their solution to the problem—to respond to the anger with respect, compassion, and open ears—reflected reality, too.
Boston-based critic Andy Crump has been writing online about film since 2009, and has been scribbling for Paste Magazine since 2013. He also contributes to Screen Rant, Movie Mezzanine, and Birth.Movies.Death. You can follow him on Twitter. He is composed of roughly 65% craft brews.