Emotionally Invested Detectives: One Last Look at ABC's "The Unusuals"

I'm really going to miss The Unusuals.

Given that the series ended last Wednesday evening without much fanfare, you might be wondering why I'm bringing this up now. I was on vacation so have only just gotten the chance to watch the final installment of ABC's tragically underrated cop drama The Unusuals ("EID"), written by Danny Zuker, and was not only impressed by the way it seemed to effortlessly fuse serious character beats, zany cases (this week's involved a serial accuser and break-and-enter gonzo porn), and off-kilter humor.

Throughout its (far too) short run, The Unusuals--created by Noah Hawley (Bones)--has always played by its own rules. Much like the dynamo partnership of Casey Shraeger (Amber Tamblyn) and Jason Walsh (Jeremy Renner), one of the best mismatched cop partners on television. Ever. Her wounded rich girl shtick was diametrically opposed to his low-key salt of the earth approach but they found a supportive (and, indeed at times, nurturing) partnership that played to both their strengths. Both came from unexpected backgrounds: Shraeger from one of Manhattan's wealthiest families; Walsh from professional baseball. They were outsiders in a profession that many today still regard as little more than trash collectors, public servants who round up the city's detritus and send it away from delicate eyes.

But The Unusuals didn't stop there. No, it also provided us with two other remarkable partnerships of opposites: that between Eric Delahoy (Adam Goldberg) and Leo Banks (Harold Perrineau) and Alison Beaumont (Monique Gabriela Curnen) and Henry Cole (Josh Close). While brain tumor-afflicted Delahoy seemingly couldn't die (even after several scenarios that should have resulted in his death), Banks is obsessed with his own mortality at the age of 42, wearing bulletproof vests, buying inflatable furniture, and investing in a lifetime supply of hand sanitizer. Cole concealed a misspent youth that was at odds with his deeply religious views, which themselves were a source of humor for his street-savvy partner.

And that's to say nothing of the hugely ambitious precinct pariah Eddie Alvarez (Kai Lennox), who sadly didn't even appear in this week's series ender. Nor did Terry Kinney's space-obsessed Sgt. Harvey Brown, for that matter. Their absence from this nearly flawless installment depressed me even further as the episode didn't function as a season (or series) closer in any way, especially as some of our main characters weren't even along for the ride.

Still "EID" let The Unusuals go out on a high note. While Cole and Beaumont had to go undercover as a couple in therapy (complete with an embarrassing and awkward session where they had to hold each other in silence for fifteen minutes) and Delahoy and Banks had to wade through a stack of pornos (in order to identify apartments which the "Bagman" had broken into), Shraeger became the titular emotionally invested detective.

Investigating the strange accusations made by Abigail Allen (Fringe's Betty Gilpin) a.k.a. Margot Stanford, a mentally unstable woman who changed her identity years before, Shraeger uncovers a long buried secret from the woman's past: an unsolved abduction and beating that left her in a coma for ten days when she was sixteen. It's a case that forces Shraeger to come to grips with her own privileged youth as an unwitting member of New York City society and the fact that she moved in the same circles as both Margot and her attackers.

The scene in which Shraeger finally gets one of the perps to confess to the decade-old crime was a thing of beauty and showcased Tamblyn's rough-and-ready charms in this role: confident, strong, and canny, she fully embodies the reality of this role. And the solemnity of the final scene, in which she tells Abigail/Margot that her attackers have been caught--only to receive little more than a blank stare from the intensely in-denial Abigail--and then sits beside her on the couch and allows Abigail to put her head on her shoulder was a masterclass in nuance and emotional depth.

I do wish that we could have gotten to the bottom of Delahoy's condition. After getting medical examiner Dr. Monica Crumb (Susan Parke) fired from her job for illegally using the hospital's MRI machine, Delahoy learns that he does have a mass in his brain that is likely causing the bizarre symptoms he's experiencing (not least of which is smelling horses everywhere). Delahoy's storyline has been an intriguing element of the series since the pilot episode. Yes, the seemingly supernatural elements fell by the wayside along since that first installment (remember the angelic hail of buckshot?) but his battle with mortality--and accepting his possibly fatal condition--have been one of the series' most compelling backbones, especially when juxtaposed with Banks' irrational fear of dying. I'm sad that we won't get to see what happens to both of them next, just as Delahoy finally comes to grips with the severity of his condition and gets brutally shafted by one-time lover Monica.

And, really, that need to know what would happen next applies to all of the members of the second precinct, from Delahoy and Banks to Shraeger and Walsh and all of the other members of this colorful and well-drawn cast of characters. I'm beyond crushed that this intelligent and riveting series isn't continuing next season. After just ten episodes, I feel an intense camaraderie with this motley crew, from their choice of after-hours hangout (a Chinese restaurant where the oysters are not recommended) to their ongoing squabbles (just look at Banks and Delahoy's old married couple routine). We saw them on the clock, off duty, on dates, and getting shot at. But the action never took a turn for the obvious, soapy angle and it never lost the sense of humor that made it such a fun hour of television.

Yes, I suppose you could say that I was emotionally invested in these characters. Do we, like Walsh tells Shraeger, get one of these a year, a series that we find ourselves sucked into despite wanting to remain aloof viewers? If so, The Unusuals was mine, a series that proved itself too different, too smart, too unconventional for network television.

Ultimately, The Unusuals was unlike any other police drama on television, a quirky and entertaining dramedy that didn't take itself too seriously but instead used its innate humor to conceal a beating heart underneath the uniform. That, in and of itself, is, well, unusual. It will be severely missed.