Peter Falk makes Columbo worth watching even when the mystery takes its time. The patient questioning and the suspects’ misplaced superiority are consistently funny, though the familiar routine can leave an episode feeling stretched.
Columbo is a detective programme we recommend even to people who usually have little patience for detective programmes. Creators Richard Levinson and William Link give us the crime before the investigation, then ask us to enjoy the effort of proving what we already know. That might sound like giving away the only reason to watch, but Peter Falk supplies several more. The pleasure is in watching a clever person be mistaken for a nuisance, and deciding how much of that mistake he has encouraged.
As Lt. Columbo, Peter Falk lets humility become a practical advantage. His comic timing makes a question sound as though it has only just occurred to him, and the person answering can almost forget that this is an investigation. We laughed at how willingly the suspects underestimate him; their assurance makes his persistence funnier. The performance never needs to advertise intelligence, because every attempt to dismiss the detective gives us another reason to watch him.
The class friction is just as important as the puzzle. These are people accustomed to being obeyed, confronted by a man they struggle to take seriously. Their usual manner of giving orders proves less effective against someone who remains courteous and keeps asking questions. Yet Peter Falk does not make the detective smug about it: the lack of self-congratulation allows us to enjoy the contest without being asked to applaud every clever move.
The picture-making is sensible enough to leave room for that performance. Cinematographers Robert Seaman and Harry Wolf keep the encounters readable, while Archie J. Bacon’s production design helps establish the differences in standing that make them interesting. We can appreciate the unequal terms on which a conversation begins without needing anyone to explain them. The visual work makes the suspects’ confidence plausible, which matters once the detective starts testing it.
The editing, with Buddy Small and Jay Scherberth among the credited editors, allows the comic timing to matter. A pause gives us time to anticipate the detective’s next question, which is useful when the identity of the murderer cannot provide a surprise. The music, with Billy Goldenberg among its contributors, supports the unease, but Peter Falk’s conversational rhythm is what we remember.
The weakness follows from the same arrangement. Once we have recognised the culprit’s arrogance and the detective’s method, another dismissive answer can feel like a repeat rather than a development. We are also more demanding about the explanation than we would be in a mystery that could distract us with another possible suspect. A programme that lets us know so much from the start has to make the route to proof convincing, and Columbo does not make every stretch of that route equally absorbing.
Within crime television, the appeal here is how little the central figure asks us to admire him. Peter Falk makes intelligence watchable through patience, courtesy and an unwillingness to leave a poor answer alone, and that is enough to carry the programme through its less persuasive puzzles. Give him an evening without also asking him to compete with a phone.
