Episodic Dialogue: Fall Pilots 2022 - CBS' So Help Me Todd

Michael Collado helps break down the dynamics of CBS' most millennial procedural to date

Photo: CBS

In 2012, when Elementary debuted on CBS, I was TA-ing an Intro to Television course, and we screened the pilot for students ahead of its premiere, which at the time felt like a pivotal lesson in the dynamics of the industry. The property’s familiarity to audiences, its similarity to CBS’ existing lineup, its compatibility with its lead-in, its endless potential to generate story and reach syndication—it embodied how the fall season was built as a microcosm of everything the TV industry stood for, and which it seemed pivotal for students to understand. It was also the year I started writing about Elementary for The A.V. Club, with me and Emily St. James opening things up with an (absurdly) in-depth dialogue on the show’s ties to these broadcast traditions.

In the decade since, though, the logics of broadcast have grown distant for my students, and for much of television criticism as a whole. And so in the spirit of Episodic Medium capturing “the dream of early-2010s A.V. Club” per one paid subscriber, I wanted to put some of this year’s crop of new broadcast series under the microscope with the help of contributors.

This week, I break down CBS’ So Help Me Todd with Michael Collado, who you may know from your TikTok FYP, and who writes on Substack at Watch With Mike.

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Myles McNutt: Fittingly given the above preamble, I showed my students the pilot for CBS’ Ghosts this week, and gave them a version of the survey used to test pilots ahead of being picked up to series. At one point, the survey asks which of a set of phrases audiences would use to describe a show, and one of them is “Predictable.” I always ask students whether they think that’s a positive or a negative, and they’re usually adamant on the latter. But I try to explain to them that CBS—heck, most broadcast networks, and some programming on streaming services—doesn’t see it as a black and white issue. If a show is predictable in ways that satisfy audiences who gladly watch 2-3 versions of the same basic show, which have potentially been on the air for over a decade, that’s hardly a problem.

It’s why I’m always curious what procedurals CBS takes to series outside of the safety and security of their existing franchises. The predictability is the point of someone tuning in for a new NCIS or FBI. But if you’re trying to launch a new case-of-the-week show, as So Help Me Todd aims to be, the pilot is trying to straddle multiple worlds. On the one hand, the absence of a major franchise sends the message that this is something different—quirkier, hipper, younger, etc.—than just another procedural. On the other hand, however, it’s still a CBS procedural, and it needs to be familiar enough to settle into broadcast television’s most scheduling-dependent lineup where the goal is to keep viewers from changing the channel.

Created by Scott Prendergast, So Help Me Todd is basically a show built around Kalinda’s job on The Good Wife—Todd is a disgraced private investigator who will by the end of the pilot end up working for his mother Margaret’s law firm, where he’ll work his magic to get the information she needs to help her clients. The pilot builds itself as an origin story to this new stage of their relationship, balancing its time between Margaret’s defense of a friend’s daughter up on murder charges and Todd working to find out where Margaret’s husband—and his stepfather—disappeared to during their downsizing to a condo. By the end of the hour, the two work through some repressed trauma from Todd’s father’s death, confront their respective worst qualities that drive people away, and eventually find the professional and personal respect for one another that can allow them to enter an uneasy partnership (but just while Margaret’s normal investigator is on maternity leave).

There is little to no substance in the procedural parts of this pilot: the depiction of the trial is laughably thin, and Todd’s investigative skills are a lot of hand-waving and phone calls. But Marcia Gay Harden is perfect for this type of character—and slotted into this pilot late after Geena Davis backed out, essentially playing a mirror of her character on Netflix’s Uncoupled—and Skylar Astin is believable as the charming no-good son who can smooth talk his way out of most bad situations but you kind of want to see him get sucker punched if he doesn’t. Their dynamic is definitely more comic than your average CBS vibe, which is probably why this pilot glossed over the murder plot in favor of the missing husband, whose assholery manages to make both Todd and Margaret more sympathetic. You can see how they could build entertaining procedural cases out of those two characters, even if the pilot doesn’t aim for that.

That said, the biggest “variation” here for CBS is probably the fact that they had their first procedural with a definitively millennial lead.¹ Michael, I’m curious from your perspective as a person young enough to be on “TokTok” (as Margaret calls it) how you felt about the show’s handling of its lead character. Can you imagine younger audiences being able to connect with the show’s depiction of Todd in light of the first CBS procedural to star an actor younger than me?

Michael Collado: Ah, yes, CBS is finally targeting the younger crowd—middle-to-older millennials. It's fitting you ask this question because I hate to admit that, while watching the episode, I was reminded of the relationship I have with my own mother, particularly the tech support. That's probably not saying much; I'm assuming many people reading this are contracted by their parents to handle IT-related matters, unpaid of course.

Maybe I didn't pay attention to the marketing enough, but I had a different expectation of who Todd and Margaret would be heading into the show. I thought he'd be a bumbling idiot (though, good at his job) and she'd be a high-powered professional. What we got, I think, is closer to both of them being blundering in different ways, but he'll do anything to get the job done while she's much more risk-averse. This is the better way to go. As you mentioned, both actors are good in their roles, and their scenes often build to an enjoyable frenetic energy. Their chemistry is the best part so far, and it only falters when they're forced to deliver expositional dialogue. But what can you do? It's a broadcast pilot episode, after all.

Can I imagine younger audiences connecting to Todd (and Todd)? Maybe. I think you've got two sectors of the younger crowd: (1) The people who will never like "cheesy" shows, which I think means most broadcast shows. (2) People who are looking for more comfort television, which goes back to predictability. When the pilot episode ended, I felt satisfied in the sense that the story was… complete, almost. If I never watch another episode, I won't feel like I'm missing out on more story or plot. And my initial reaction was to criticize that. How dare you not end with a cliffhanger? Don't you want me to feel compelled to return? But what I've come to realize is I haven't felt that way about a new procedural in quite some time. I've been watching a lot of Murder, She Wrote lately. That's a procedural that's truly self-contained. You feel a building of tension and its resolution all in one episode. That hasn't been the case for some current shows in a while, even procedurals. Maybe I don't watch enough new procedurals, but there was something refreshing about a pilot episode that was less concerned about setting up some serialized, season-long storyline—a phrase you can only say in the 2022 TV landscape—and focused more on the character dynamics, because I agree that I can see new cases in this environment week to week.

At this moment, I'm most reminded of NBC's Chuck. (A better comparison might be something like Psych or Monk, but I never watched more than a couple episodes of both of those shows.) Chuck was much stronger out the gate. It had a confident voice, it was funnier, and had more substantive cases—even if the show was sillier. This show doesn't lean into the silliness or the legal aspect or their craftiness hard enough just yet. Is this the show that lets Todd get on a plane in a post-9/11 world just because he wears a uniform? Perhaps it doesn't matter, but I did find myself hoping for a bit more wit to how they solved both cases. All that said, I'd be lying by omission if I didn't mention once the episode ended I said aloud to myself, "Is this my new comfort show?"

Myles, do you think audiences are ready for the return of more lighthearted procedurals? Has So Help Me Todd laid enough groundwork to set it apart—and does it have to?

MM: I definitely think something like Psych is probably the better example here, what with the comic tone and the idea that maybe not everyone is taking things as seriously as everyone else. Chuck also, of course, had a very clear serialized arc built into it, albeit one the show could choose to use to whatever degree it saw fit, whereas Psych has a less intrusive “he’s a fake psychic, but very few people know that” engine.

I think the absence of serialization is fine, but I guess there’s a difference between not overdoing an attempt at an overarching story and creating zero tension to speak of. You can tell the pilot chafes against this with the relationship between mother and son. On the one hand, the tension between them is going to be a clear engine for episodic conflict in the remainder of the show’s run, continuing to butt heads on the right path forward. On the other hand, the pilot needs to resolve in a way that makes you feel warm inside, which is why she comes to respect his career, he comes to understand (through her husband’s callous dismissal of her emotions) a bit more about her own struggles, and there’s even a picture of him as a child on her desk at the end. 

And where procedurals like this can get into trouble is if there’s too much of a reset button, which is the problem when you create conflict within the ensemble (something that an earlier era of procedurals like Murder, She Wrote or Columbo consciously avoided). Because I do think that while a younger viewer absolutely might like some comfort TV, there’s still an expectation of progress, even if that ends up being focused on character dynamics more than unlocking some deeper plot. And the show is pretty thin on this front: I expect he’ll keep pranking neat freak Lyle, and continue to have a light amount of sexual tension with his mother’s associate, but there’s none of the team dynamics that convinced my students to binge all of Criminal Minds, nor is there the murder-y aspects that have helped that show find a younger audience.

Basically, it’s fine for So Help Me Todd to not be overburdened with mythology (really only the mentor/partner that burned him feels like a breadcrumb), but the fact he doesn’t seem to have any goals is a real barrier to my interest level. Does he want to get his license back? Clear his name? Or is the show content to show him as a millennial burnout who lives in his sister’s house and works for his Mom and is just trying to get his life together?

Your comment about being content to never watch another episode strikes me as a vital one. Is part of what makes it harder for younger audiences to invest in procedurals the fact that they’re expected to watch them week-to-week? It’s telling to me that they love Criminal Minds or Grey’s Anatomy, but only in the space of Netflix where volume is their largest appeal. You may not be compelled to come back next week, but would you have been willing to let the good vibes roll on and just let the next episode play if you’d been streaming the whole season eight months from now on Paramount+?

MC: You're right. There's no real drive propelling us forward, even if it's Todd wanting to reinstate his license. It's possible that will all come later down the line, after a second episode that I assume will be a rehash of the pilot episode—just in a different font, as the youths on "TokTok" say.² I think you could make an argument that procedurals are better set up for binging because they’re less interested in cliffhangers and creating weekly watercolor discussions. But I'm not entirely convinced this show is distinctly created to do better with a binging model more so than any other show, especially because of its more lighthearted tone.

We’ve talked about this briefly, but when it comes to comfort television, I do think there’s some value in spending synchronous time with the characters—celebrating holidays together or seeing the seasons change. There’s that aspect of “inviting the characters into your home” week to week that I think a show with this tone is positioned well to do, for me anyway, but I know I’m part of a shrinking minority. Of course, plenty of comedies and lighthearted shows have excelled in a Netflix world, but it does feel like the industry is shifting farther away from that model across the board.³

Overall, I think we’re trying to reason something that ultimately comes down to this: after one episode, the show is… fine. The central mom-son dynamic is strong, but the ensemble so far hasn’t matched them, it’s not laugh-out-loud funny, and the cases had a bit of intrigue but I wouldn’t say they were absolutely compelling. Fine used to be worth something, but TV inflation is out of control. Is fine good enough when we have 550 shows on the air? Most people would likely say it’s not, but if you’re looking for counter-programming to the countless other gritty dramas on TV, there’s potential here for this show to be it.

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Provided that it won’t be too onerous, Michael will be back to check on So Help Me Todd’s progress at its winter finale. You can find him on Twitter, TikTok, and here on Substack.

1. Technically, FBI’s Missy Peregrym is a borderline case, but I’m going to suggest her character was never framed so clearly through that lens given the copaganda of it all

2. I talk about these with students as “repiloting,” a strategy devised for a time when word-of-mouth about a pilot would inevitably draw new eyes, and they had historically had no way of catching up with a pilot.

3. Netflix loves its Steel Magnolias and Virgin Rivers, it’s true, although it’s notable that their idea of “comfort TV” is so explicitly gendered. Something to unpack there.