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Pack it up Scooby gang: There’s no culprit behind the crime that is Charlie Grandy’s (“The Mindy Project”) HBO series “Velma” (2023). Crushed under an unrelenting deluge of transparent lampshading and superficial jokes, the pilot episode staggers to the end of its 25-minute runtime. Behind one tired facsimile of good comedy writing is another poor imitation, and another imitation, ad nauseam. If you stare into the void, the ticking mechanisms of soulless reboot productions stare back. Portable Molasses Catcher

Velma (Mindy Kaling, “The Mindy Project”) opens the show by monologuing about how “Velma” the TV show is an original mystery show because the protagonist Velma is female and non-white. Kaling’s lines were probably lifted from the “Velma” HBO pitch meeting, but they characterize the TV show’s central aims well. “Velma” intends to be “quirky,” “diverse” and, ideally, a “Veronica Mars-type show animated in the same style of HBO’s Harley Quinn.”

In “Velma,” The Scooby/Mystery Incorporated gang has been reimagined and de-aged to star in a 2023 animated high school mystery drama that is utterly detached from Gen-Z humor and sensibilities. Velma is a self-absorbed high school outcast. She eats fries from the garbage can and has sworn off solving crimes because she blames herself for her mother’s (Sarayu Blue, “Never Have I Ever”) disappearance two years ago (the same episode reveals that Velma’s mother left because Velma was a difficult and inconsiderate child). Velma’s high school nemesis is Daphne (Constance Wu, “Crazy Rich Asians”), whose character design verges on racism. I took the liberty of identifying the shade of yellow (“soft orange”) used for Daphne’s skin tone and it is #fabf71. Particularly next to other Asian characters, Daphne looks jaundiced, like a 1800s “Yellow Peril” caricature. I like my representation like I like my tea: free of dehumanizing character designs. Alas. 

Daphne is dating Fred (Glenn Howerton, “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”) who is vapid, rich, plagued by daddy issues and insecure about his pre-pubescent penis. Norville (who has not yet started going by Shaggy) (Sam Richardson, “Veep”) has a crush on Velma and, despite her general disinterest and scorn for him, leaps at any chance to assist her. He has a tendency toward redundancy and is unfortunately unaccompanied by our favorite sandwich-eating pup, Scooby. 

Besides the poor character design choices (#fabf71), “Velma” is woefully dumb and unpleasant to watch. The main gang’s one-on-one interactions with each other can best be described as cruel. Among other bad encounters, Velma is often on the receiving end of Fred’s microaggressions (he believes she is Hispanic or Latina) and Daphne makes disparaging comments about Fred’s body and virility for revenge. As an ensemble cast, they radiate “bad vibes.” 

The jokes and plotlines are too cheap to be funny, announced and concluded in the same breath. Before the episode is up, Velma is accused and absolved of murder charges. 

Composed of transparent lampshading gimmicks, the jokes are intended for undiscerning consumption. They have no bearing on characterization or plot, but give the illusion of wry cynicism and incisive meta-commentary without having to deliver the narrative legwork. 

“Lampshading” or “Lampshade hanging” is a term infrequently used but often observed in media. Lampshading refers to when TV shows or movie screenwriters intentionally call out a dissonant cliche, plot device or plot hole in the script as a means to show that they (the screenwriters) are aware that said cliche, plot device or plot hole exists. By naming and acknowledging the lazy writing, the screenwriters signal to the audience that the trope or mistake is intentional and should be ignored as a necessary evil committed in service of expediency.

Lampshading is not inherently bad; though it works best when used sparingly. It has to be building up to something to be narratively justifiable. But “Velma” has no patience, and the jokes have no finesse. There’s no long-term payoff in “Velma” to justify the gimmick because instead of being a vehicle, lampshading in “Velma” is the substance. What you see is exactly what you get. “Velma” alludes to depth and wit by name dropping a hot-topic issue and then skating past it without any meaningful engagement. 

In the pilot’s opening, Daphne walks into a room of naked, showering teenage girls and declares, “Have you ever noticed how pilot episodes of TV shows always have more gratuitous sex and nudity than the rest of the season?” As the camera pans to the minors’ sexualized figures (with tasteful soap suds), the teenage girls engage in a spirited discussion on the merits of sex appeal as a “hook” within “an overcrowded (media) market.” And that’s the joke. Women can engage in discourse while still being sexualized. How clever, how cutting, how meta and groundbreaking. 

If “Velma” wasn’t already a watered-down, repackaged regurgitation of the other, better shows that it incessantly and snidely references, the pilot might be funny to spoof. But uncritical meta of meta of meta does not make for good TV. I cannot help but wonder if it’s the yoke of the Scooby-Doo brand that prevents the show from coming into itself. The protagonist Devi from Kaling’s “Never Have I Ever” is similar to Grady’s Velma, superficial and boy-obsessed, yet remains sympathetic. Perhaps a cartoon teenage detective unconstrained by prior characterizations would have been more compelling to watch and build a series around. 

A demoralizing tweet from the creator of Cartoon Network favorites like “The Powerpuff Girls” and “Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends” illustrates how reboots like “Velma” are increasingly the norm. Production and streaming services view new cartoons and Intellectual properties (IPs) as risky investments. Their marketing strategy relies upon nostalgia and existing followings to attract new subscribers. New content lacks the support of a fanbase full of potential subscribers. 

But “Velma” does have some fleeting, funny-adjacent and almost interesting moments. I appreciate the colorblind casting and I loved the scene showing Shaggy moonlighting as a snack-reviewing streamer with an ardent online fan base who watch him try and review snacks from across the world. (Shout out to his loyal followers @scrappy79 and @snaccattacc.)

The “Velma” pilot skips over charm in its rush to blurt out the punchline. There’s no craft, no brain behind the curtain. “Velma,” at least in its first two episodes, is shallow and unsatisfying to watch. 

Daily Arts Writer Elizabeth Yoon can be reached at elizyoon@umich.edu

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