No noise! Goodbye Brooklyn Nine-Nine, you absolute joy of comedy Television

Uncoolcoolcoolcoolcool! No. noise! After eight glorious seasons – 153 gag-filled 22-minute episodes – Brooklyn Nine-Nine ends tonight. This has happened before. Fox canceled it in 2018, five years after it premiered on the network, but a campaign on social media by angry viewers – reinforced by high-profile fans like Lin-Manuel Miranda, Guillermo del Toro and Mark Hamill – saw it quickly picked up by NBC for three additional seasons.

This time the farewell to beloved detectives Jake, Amy, Rosa, Terry, Charles (yes, OK, Hitchcock and Scully as well) and their boss, Captain Raymond Holt, is true, as it bows with a final double bill of episodes on E4 . And it’s probably for the best. It goes to the maximum it has kept since it began in 2013, and before the radically changed real-life context hindered an American spectacle based on the collective belief in the inner goodness of police officers.

What a joy it was. Blessed from the start with a supple ensemble cast full of brilliant and generous players, even better together – in any combination – than they are apart, and from whom it is impossible to choose a best actor, a favorite character or even a favorite pair. Andy Samberg’s extraordinary energy as the impetuous, perennial part-time teenager Jake Peralta could easily have transformed him into a Jim Carrey-ish figure, drawing focus and unbalancing the show. Instead, he – and creators Dan Goor and Michael Schur – made him warm and lovable, emblematic of the spirit of the whole.

Melissa Fumero, left, as Amy Santiago and Stephanie Beatriz as Rosa Diaz.
Melissa Fumero, left, as Amy Santiago and Stephanie Beatriz as Rosa Diaz. Photo: NBC / John P. Fleenor

Amy Santiago by Melissa Fumero could have been a simple nerd, a repressive force at the police station and the butt of the jokes of every cooler character. Instead, she was just the target of Gina’s gags, and wasn’t they all? Her fetish for ring binders was a long-running joke, but like all Brooklyn Nine-Nine jokes – taking out perhaps the most difficult feat in comedy – it grew out of character and her relationships with the rest of the squad.

The whims of the police district may have been put into augmented reality – and thank God, that’s what allowed us to enjoy the extravagant joys of Gina’s “complete overlap of ego and identification,” as one of the psychiatrist guests at Raymond-Kevin Doug Judy and Adrian Pimento, of whom later – but within it, there was never a moment when anyone acted inconsistently or simply in the service of a plot. You could escape into their world and settle down to see what your proxy – and pleasantly functional – family does without any fear of being removed from it.

Sergeant Terry (Terry Crews) was the father figure (and, of course, a devoted father to the twins Cagney and Lacey) trying to keep his unruly offspring in line and safe. A mountain of a man who, inside, was softer than Scully’s belly, Crews carried one of the first plots that dealt with a “title” issue: Terry searches for a lost twin’s toy on the street and is racially profiled by an aggressive and. then unrepentant officer. The policy and consequences are twisted further when his Black captain initially discourages Terry from filing a lawsuit in case it hurts his career. In later series, other expeditions into discussions of racism, sexism (Amy detailing cases of harassment to her then-husband Jake he never imagined), homophobia, motherhood and paternity and gun crime were committed, to varying degrees of success but never derailed. the spectacle or descent into banalities.

It could easily pivot into such things in part because of its uniquely (on mainstream television) diverse cast, present from the start. Fumero spoke of his own and Stefanie Beatriz’s (Rosa) disbelief that there were two Latin women in the show instead of none – or symbolic. Crews and Andre Braugher (Holt), as two Black actors, may have felt similarly.

Andre Braugher as Captain Ray Holt.
Andre Braugher as Captain Ray Holt. Photo: NBC / John P. Fleenor

Holt is also gay, and married to Kevin (Marc Evan Jackson) – a match made in a pedantic sky, and if I had to choose a favorite repeating character I would probably choose this water-eating professor. And in the fifth season, Rosa appeared, painfully, to her parents as bisexual. The homophobia and racism Holt experienced throughout her career has always been a part of his story, and Rosa negotiating her new identity has become an equally organic part of hers.

This makes it sound hopelessly serious and worthy (title of the Guardian sex tape). It wasn’t. It is not. It’s endlessly fun, by the way its famous and much lion-like cold opens (I could look Dianne Wiest forever) with perfect eccentricity, built in tiny increments over the seasons, so you can believe in every inch of what is objectively impressive madness, of Charles Boyle (Joe Lo Truglio), and of Halloween thefts – as spotlessly intriguing as any any farce. It’s full of Holt’s required standards (small talk is for strangers and cheaters) and eternal wisdom (“Don’t trust any child who chews gum-flavored chewing gum. Don’t trust any adult who chews gum at all. Never vacation in Banff”), and guest stars who have never been less than sensational.

A special mention must, however, be given to two of them. Craig Robinson’s clean vision and purpose as Jake’s nemesis / singing soul, career criminal Doug Judy and Jason Mantzoukas’ commitment to his role as chaos agent Adrian Pimento (“No, no, no, I’m not messing with computers, okay? Since I died of dysentery on the Oregon Road, I’ve been like, no thank you. I’m done with this “), I hope it will be enjoyed and respected as long as there are streaming platforms.

It was amazing. A rare gift – and even rarer as the one the whole family was able to enjoy, at least when Pimento wasn’t on screen – that will be missed, yet well-repeated viewing holds (and yes – the first five seasons in Netflix loop). was all that stood between me and the pit of despair during two years of pandemic and confinement). Forgive the sentimentality, Captain Holt, but I love you all. Nine-nine!

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