The Columbo character-type is so familiar – paving the way for gun-shy, cerebral TV tecs such as Morse or Fitz from Cracker – that it’s easy to forget how revolutionary it was when the series became a global smash in the early 1970s. Here was a murder mystery where the key eyewitness was the audience, made complicit by watching the killer execute their foul deed at the top of each episode. The headline star, embodied by Peter Falk, would only amble in after an ad break or two. To look at his clapped-out Peugeot, you might suspect this shambling lieutenant would be late for his own funeral.
Yet underneath the slovenly suit was fierce cunning. Columbo would identify the culprit seemingly through intuition alone, then patiently chip away at their alibi with his sly mantra of “just one more thing” until they incriminated themselves or begged for jail simply to escape him. Wealth and influence could not dissuade the little guy in the shabby raincoat. The snooty maestro, the chess grandmaster, the crooked politician … all were undone by Columbo. He was justice incarnate: rumpled of the Bailey. It made him beloved.
After a pilot in 1968 – featuring the odd sight of a slicker, slightly more aggressive Columbo – the series ran from 1971 to 2003, albeit with a decade-long break from 1979 until the character was relaunched in 1989. This modern phase veered towards outlandish plots and slapstick, to the extent that hardcore fans cannot quite agree on its most heinous crime: was it Columbo parping away on a tuba or unexpectedly wielding a gun?
So: an open-and-shut case. If classic Columbo is good and late-era Columbo is bad, then thelieutenant must have jumped the shark with the 1989 return of the mac? In truth, you have togo further back – to 1976. In the fifth season finale, Last Salute to the Commodore, set among the yachting set, the victim is a crotchety, self-regarding millionaire who resents his drunken coterie and grasping family. When we witness son-in-law Robert Vaughn disposing of the commodore’s body at sea, it seems obvious he is the murderer.
Then Vaughn turns up dead, and the format disintegrates. Everything seems off. The lieutenant has his head turned by transcendental meditation, attempting a lotus pose on a marina boardwalk. Eventually, all the suspects are assembled in a room so the murderer can be revealed Agatha Christie-style, making a mockery of the show’s signature device. It feels like a Columbo-related cheese dream. Director Patrick McGoohan has gleefully scuttled the formula; his great friend Falk even seems a willing accomplice.
Due to Columbo’s non-serialised nature – helping it remain a random Sunday afternoon schedule-filler even today – the classic narrative blueprint was quietly restored for season six and the series returned to an even keel. Last Salute to the Commodore, though, ends on a weird visual flourish, with the aqua-phobic lieutenant pushing off in a tiny rowing boat, seemingly abandoning his car, seemingly abandoning everything. There is a genuine sense that this berserk episode might actually have undone Columbo. Just one more thing: for a sleuth who delighted in bamboozling his quarry, this might actually have been the perfect absurdist full stop.
As an avid enthusiast of classic television mysteries and a seasoned observer of the evolution of detective characters, allow me to delve into the fascinating realm of the Columbo character-type and its impact on the television landscape. My extensive knowledge of the subject is rooted in a deep appreciation for the genre and a thorough examination of the historical context in which Columbo emerged as a groundbreaking series.
The Columbo character, portrayed with unparalleled finesse by Peter Falk, revolutionized the murder mystery genre in the early 1970s. The series introduced a novel approach by making the audience a key eyewitness to the crime, compelling them to be complicit in the unfolding drama. This innovative narrative strategy, where viewers witnessed the killer executing their foul deed at the beginning of each episode, was a paradigm shift that laid the groundwork for subsequent cerebral TV detectives such as Morse or Fitz from Cracker.
Columbo's seemingly unassuming demeanor, exemplified by his clapped-out Peugeot and shabby raincoat, belied a fierce cunning that set him apart. The character's unique investigative method, relying on intuition and a patient chipping away at the suspect's alibi with the iconic phrase "just one more thing," became the hallmark of the series. Regardless of wealth or influence, Columbo's tenacity prevailed, bringing down snooty maestros, chess grandmasters, and crooked politicians alike. He embodied justice in a rumpled package, endearing him to audiences worldwide.
The series initially ran from 1971 to 2003, experiencing a brief hiatus from 1979 to 1989. The latter period, marked by a shift towards outlandish plots and slapstick elements, has been a point of contention among hardcore fans. The debate centers on whether this era represents a decline in quality, with disagreements over whether moments like Columbo playing a tuba or wielding a gun were the series' most heinous crimes.
However, to pinpoint the moment when Columbo may have jumped the shark, one must look back to 1976 and the fifth season finale titled "Last Salute to the Commodore." Set among the yachting elite, this episode disrupted the established formula. After initially presenting a seemingly straightforward case with Robert Vaughn as the murderer disposing of the commodore's body at sea, the plot took an unexpected turn. Vaughn's character turns up dead, and the narrative disintegrates, culminating in a surreal scene where all suspects are assembled for a revelation, defying the show's signature device.
Directed by Patrick McGoohan, a close friend of Falk, this episode, in essence, subverted the established format. Despite the show's non-serialized nature, which allowed it to remain a schedule-filler even today, "Last Salute to the Commodore" left a lasting impact. The subsequent restoration of the classic narrative blueprint in season six helped the series regain its equilibrium, but the episode's bizarre conclusion, with Columbo rowing away in a tiny boat, added a sense of uncertainty.
In conclusion, this examination underscores the nuanced evolution of the Columbo character-type and its lasting impact on the detective genre, highlighting both its revolutionary contributions and moments of experimentation that tested the formula's resilience. The 1989 return may not be the sole culprit for any perceived decline; instead, the critical juncture may be traced back to the unconventional narrative choices of "Last Salute to the Commodore." Just one more thing: the perfect absurdist full stop in a sleuth's journey that reveled in bamboozling its quarry.
