On 'CSI', Tarantino digs a shallow grave

I’ve never been a fan of CSI. From its inception, the entire idea seemed like a Bruckheimerian Law & Order, a sexed up, gore-heavy cop show featuring the usual array of far-too-attractive young faces. Upon hearing that Quentin Tarantino was directing this season’s two-episode finale, though, my interest perked. Tarantino’s glib-n-grisly sensibility, his love of genre and his ability to elevate low-brow formula to classy character drama all seemed like a direct fit with the CSI universe.

It was all tentative, though, as television is a far different beast than film. In film, a director has ultimate authority, allowing him to make the necessary stylistic and narrative changes to his movie so that it stays within the boundaries of its genre even while drastically reimagining its tropes. But network television, bound to its commercial breaks and carefully diagramed 42 minute structure, is not nearly as malleable a medium as theatrical film. The question, then, was whether Tarantino’s talent would be able to mesh with the stringent demands of the idiot box.

And the answer is a disappointing sort of, but not really. This season’s two part finale, “Grave Danger,” has a certain methodical slowness to it that typical CSI episodes lack, but, with one glaring exception, it’s pretty much business as usual for William Petersen and company. It’s a decent two hours of television, but, despite the reccomendation of Slate's estimable Dana Stevens, it bears no resemblance to the greatness of Tarantino’s pristine four-film oeuvre.

One possibility for this might be that, though the story idea was Tarantino’s, he didn’t write the screenplay. Tarantino’s directing has always been excellent (especially in the Kill Bill films), but it’s his writing that has truly elevated his work. Here, directing a rather average script by a staff writer, Tarantino has nothing to do except control the pacing.

The only time his influence stands out is in a particularly bizarre scene that occurs towards the end of the second episode. A CSI agent who’s been buried alive (the titular “grave danger”) goes into a tremendously disturbing, grotesque fantasy in which he dreams that his coworkers are dissecting him with gleeful, brazen malice. Shot in gritty black and white, its first-person lab-table view is reminiscent of Tarantino’s much-maligned trademark trunk-shots.

The scene is played for bizarre, over-the-top, gross-out humor, showing characters ripping out organs and tossing them aside with shocking flippancy. But tellingly, the scene is non-essential to the outcome of the show, a throwaway clearly designed to allow for quick removal if it didn’t work. As much energy as the scene generates, it’s a needlessly drastic tonal shift from every other scene, and should have been gutted* from the show.

The Weinsteins recently announced that Tarantino’s next project will be a double feature with Robert Rodriguez titled Grindhouse, in which each director will create a 60 minute short film that serves as an homage to 70s era low-grade horror and martial arts flicks. Hopefully this next-short form experiment with genre will return him to the snappy, energetic work that's made his big-screen gambits such a treat.
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*I award myself no clever points for this.