Previously on Taxi Brooklyn: Cherchez Les Femmes.
Ok, so. This is coming from a person who is perfectly willing to watch the glorified multi-billion dollar movie trilogy adaptation of a story containing two human men, a dwarf, three hobbits, and a fucking Woodland elf scrambling over hill and over dale to throw a magic ring into a vulcano beneath a giant swirling eye in the sky that’s trying to kill them all.
But even I have limits.
All this is to say, I know — and I have argued in the past — that credibility, much unlike accountability, is a very difficult thing to apply to fiction. That doesn’t mean that this episode doesn’t piss me off, though, and not just because of the nonsensical plot, but because of the ginormous holes you can poke through it with a toothpick. And I’m going to hold this show’s writers fully accountable to that.
This episode means to suspend my disbelief so far that I am willing to just roll with them on the narrative rollercoaster that is a, what, seven-year-old kid shooting her foster mother when she, after she and foster daddy make the kids deal drugs and steal, threatens to kill her, her ten-year-old foster brother calmly taking the blame for her so she doesn’t have to go through the court proceedings.
I think they’re forgetting the part where forensic crime scene analysis could tell them exactly how tall that child is that caught all the blood spatter, like so:
CSU would be able to tell the detectives that Tristan could have never stood in that spot because he is way taller than that spatter shadow. They also want me to believe that they couldn’t have gotten a warrant to test the kids for traces of blood? They didn’t go back to the house and look for the clothes Tristan claims he hid? And if the detectives’ assumption was that Janie stood behind Nancy at the time of the shooting, then how does Leo come to the conclusion that the girl shot her while standing in front of her? Blood spatter goes everywhere when you’re shot at close range, but it was one fact they maintained: Nancy was shot in the chest, not in the back, so whoever killed her stood facing her, and I see no blood spatter whatsoever in the other direction, neither on the carpet nor on the floor. Didn’t they test Tristan for gun powder residue? Didn’t they test his clothes for traces of blood? Surely he must have caught some when, you know, shooting her.
This is nothing but the misjudged and terrible introduction of a devastating plot twist at the last minute to force Cat to make a compassionate decision and to give her and Leo something else to bond over.
Are you kidding me, writers?
The Gender Trap has Shut
Oh, and get this: Ronnie, Leo’s gender-transgressive best friend, tells Cat that she needs a make-over and that her boobs are too small. He’s telling her that her slightly androgynous figure is her not making something of herself, and all I was waiting for was the punchline that he’s surprised that any man ever fancied her enough to marry her. And, no, Leo telling her that he loves her hair is no saving grace, nor that Cat doesn’t change into different clothes by the end of the episode. What gets me about this is this principle of ‘do as I say, not as I do’ behind it.
Let me break this down for you: the guy transgressing traditional gender roles and preconceptions of sexuality and masculine behaviour tells a tom-boy woman that she must do more to conform to standard, clichéd preconceptions of femininity and beauty. Like, what? I’ve remarked before on this trend on this show where characters transcending traditional ideas of gendered behaviour shun, resent, and look down on other characters that do the exact same thing, only in ways they disapprove of. I couldn’t believe I’m hearing this.
So, no. I will not continue watching Taxi Brooklyn, I’m out. This show had so much potential for a female lead partnered with a male character of colour and a refreshingly diverse supporting cast, but they’ve shot themselves in the foot by trying to be too cute and funny, and using women in general and femininity in particular as the butt of their jokes.
Bye, Taxi Brooklyn. It’s sad, isn’t it. This is the first time I’ve had to give up on having a future with a show before we’ve even had the chance to have had a past.