A performer may be taken in by his own act, convinced at the moment that the impression of reality which he fosters is the one and only reality. In such cases we have a sense in which the performer comes to be his own audience; he comes to be the performer and observer of the same show.
Erving Goffman
ACT II
INT. GOLDEN PALACE
SHE’S
the most accomplished young detective
in the history of the department.
HE’S
a third-generation cop who left Wall Street
to honor his father’s legacy.
TOGETHER
they head the Impossible Crimes Unit, tasked with cracking the most unsolvable cases.
When all others have failed, the ICU
is the last hope for justice.
When all others have failed, you call:
BLACK AND WHITE
This is their story.
INT. GOLDEN PALACE CHINESE RESTAURANT—NIGHT
Dead Asian Guy is dead.
WHITE LADY COP
He’s dead.
BLACK DUDE COP
Looks that way.
Our heroes regard the prone Asian male body, partially covered with a sheet.
BLACK DUDE COP
Next of kin?
WHITE LADY COP
Checking.
A crime scene investigator swabs something. Another measures the radius and dispersal pattern of a pool of drying blood. A female officer in uniform (BLACK, 20s, ATTRACTIVE) approaches White Lady Cop and Black Dude Cop.
BLACK DUDE COP
Whaddya got?
ATTRACTIVE OFFICER
Restaurant worker says the parents live nearby. We’re hunting down an address.
WHITE LADY COP
Good. We’ll pay a visit. Might have some questions for them.
(then)
Anyone else?
ATTRACTIVE OFFICER
A brother.
Seems to have gone missing.
Black and White exchange a look.
BLACK DUDE COP
This might be a case of—
WHITE LADY COP
The Wong guy.
White: deadpan. Black tries hard but like always, he breaks first, flashing his trademark smile. White holds steady a beat longer but then she breaks, too. It’s their show and they have the comfort of knowing it can’t go on without them.
“Sorry sorry. I’m so sorry,” White says, trying to keep it together. “Can we do that again?” They’ve managed to stop laughing when Black’s nose makes a snort and sends them back into another round of giggles.
* * *
—
BLACK AND WHITE. Two cops, one of each race. In the opening credits they drive around in a black-and-white police car, even though they’re detectives. Which doesn’t make sense. Often neither does the plot nor the motivations of the characters, nor the backstory, nor any of it, if you think too hard, which means thinking about it for more than the time spent watching it. But the template works, and you don’t mess with a working template.
Sometimes there’s a Floating Latina. They put her on marketing materials in select demographically targeted neighborhoods. Technically on the poster, but not where your eye lands. She’s off to the side, her head near the edge, smaller than those of Black and White (and thus, through the magic of forced perspective, rendered a good ways behind the two leads). Her pretty face hovering in a sea of abstract space.
* * *
—
There’s a pattern, a form, a certain shape to it all. The idea that any problem, no matter how messy and blood-spattered, from EXT. STREET to INT. OFFICE or INT. CRIME LAB or INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT, any blight or societal ill, any crime of hate or intolerance, can be wrapped into the template. The idea that there are clues, and the clues can be discovered and understood, at a reasonable pace, i.e., one major breakthrough or setback for every commercial break, with each act a new understanding of the problem. That they, our heroes, can get to the bottom of things, and in the end, it’s human nature (jealousy and treachery and, you know, murder). A strangely optimistic idea. A deeply ingrained hope that they, Black and White, will be able to face that danger, get a handle on it. Downtown may be gritty and dark and full of evil but on some level an unspoken belief, a faith that we live in a manageable world with its own episodic rules and conventions:
Life takes place one hour at a time.
Clues present themselves in order, one at a time.
Two investigators, properly paired, can solve any mystery.
And there’s just something about Asians—their faces, their skin color—it just automatically takes you out of this reality. Forces you to step back and say, Whoa, whoa, what is this? What kind of world are we in? And what are these Asians doing in my cop show?
There’s just something about Asians that makes reality a little too real, overcomplicates the clarity, the duality, the clean elegance of BLACK and WHITE, the proven template and so the decision is made not in some overarching conspiracy to exclude Asians but because it’s just easier to keep it how we have it. Two cops roaming the city. The precinct, the car, the bar after work. The decision is made but it’s not a decision at all, it’s the opposite. It’s the way things are. You do the cop show. You get your little check. You wonder: Can you change it? Can you be the one who actually breaks through?
INT. GOLDEN PALACE CHINESE RESTAURANT—TAKE TWO
Dead Asian Guy, still dead.
WHITE LADY COP
He’s dead.
BLACK DUDE COP
Mmhmm.
WHITE LADY COP
So we have a body.
BLACK DUDE COP
We have a body.
CLOSE ON: White Lady Cop.