Monday night’s episode of the ABC crime series “Castle,” the second of its fourth season, signified a return to the show’s winning, quirky formula after the near-stumble of its season premiere. I’ve praised “Castle” in the past, and though its third season’s finale gave cause for worry, the series’ most recent episodes provide an object lesson in entertainment programming, especially for genre writers.

For those who haven’t seen the series, “Castle” is a semi-comic police procedural about a bestselling mystery author, Richard Castle, who finds himself partnered up with a beautiful female police detective in Manhattan, Kate Beckett, to help solve crimes. The implausible premise is no impediment to enjoying the show, as its stars Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic are both a delight to watch as the central characters; their skill as performers is evident and easy to appreciate.

In addition, and even more importantly, the gaudy premise matches the show’s narrative style; it is a throwback to the great tradition of American surrealistic mysteries of the 1930s and ’40s. That’s a very important—and, alas, currently underappreciated—trend in mystery fiction exemplified by the writings of Ellery Queen (the truest master off the form), Fredric Brown, Anthony Boucher, Craig Rice, Hake Talbot, Joel Townsley Rogers, Herbert Brean, and the other great master of the form, John Dickson Carr (and these writers all owe a debt of gratitude to the earlier British crime fiction of G. K. Chesterton, the American Jacques Futrelle, and a few others).

What these and their contemporaries excelled at was creating a sense of wonder, building a fantastic situation that has an inexorable logic of its own. In their way, they conveyed a sense of American life as a realm of astonishing possibilities ultimately grounded in common sense, logic and morality. It’s a form of fiction I enjoy greatly and which I think has much to recommend it.

“Castle” exists in that tradition. A typical episode will begin with a bizarre murder, then progress to the investigation of a series of quirky or downright bizarre suspects, witnesses, and clues while the two lead characters work out matters from their personal lives and their powerful but largely unspoken attraction to each other. It’s great fun, although the events of the show are serious and often have important implications.

Last season’s finale cliffhanger, however, went in a more overtly suspenseful and dark direction, ending with Beckett shot by a sniper as she spoke at her former boss’s funeral. It was much more like an episode of “24″ than “Castle” viewers would expect. And this season’s opening episode was much darker in tone than the usual. As Beckett recovered from her grave  injuries and the detectives investigate the attempt on her life, she and most of the other  major characters were upset with Castle for various reasons. He, too, was down in the dumps, concerned that failing to declare his love for Beckett could have made a difference in their lives.

All of this angst came off as very 1950s-Ellery Queen in approach, but that decade, alas, was not a good one for Queen.

Although the cliffhanger episode and the season opener were interesting and quite watchable, neither played to the show’s strengths.  Fortunately, last night’s episode marks a solid return to the program’s basic formula. The murders are committed by a costumed superhero who carries a samurai sword with which he cleaves a would-be rapist literally in half, from head to, well, groin.

That may sound very modern (in its spectacular grossness), but in fact it’s the kind of thing one often finds in novels by Queen, S. S. Van Diane, and others. It’s crazy but just barely possible, enough to keep you from throwing the book at the wall (for me, at least). And the scenes surrounding the murder in this “Castle” episode are handled without excessive gore– in fact, rather comically, as a morgue sequence shows two adjacent body bags holding the two halves of the body.

Castle and his daughter also work out their problems, which had left her bitter towards him in the previous week’s episode. The episode also includes some interesting background information on the world of comic book fiction, fizzy dialogue between Castle and Beckett, and several goofy suspects with weird personalities and nutty motives.

In addition, it is revealed—though not to Castle—that Beckett was indeed still conscious when he told her he loved her as she lay presumably dying at the end of the previous season’s cliffhanger episode. It’s a very good plot development which holds promise for much irony and emotional dueling in future episodes.

So, what’s the lesson here for genre writers and admirers alike? It’s all right to wander outside the boundaries once in a while, but the boundaries are there for a reason: because the conventions of any particular genre work. They come into being, after all, because people literally buy the narratives that take on that form. And I would posit that people like these narrative conventions because they speak the truth to them in a pleasing way.

“Castle” does this too—and that, I believe, is what makes it both popular and deserving of its success.

In fact, ABC’s Castle web page today opens with the following pop-up window inviting visitors to take an extensive survey regarding the episode and the show in general (which I dutifully filled out):

We would like to invite you to participate in a short survey about the episode of CASTLE that aired on 2/28/11. This episode featured Castle and Beckett rejoining Fallon’s task force, the detectives suspecting a former U.S. soldier of planning a terrorist attack, and Castle and Beckett partnering with a Syrian official to track down the bomb.

Having seen the episode, I can assure you that the story cannot be fairly characterized as bigoted or anti-Christian.

The episode, “Countdown,” is the conclusion of a two-parter in which the show’s protagonists (NYC police detective Kate Beckett and her unpaid-consultant partner, mystery writer Richard Castle) attempt to prevent a mass murder through detonation of a nuclear “dirty bomb” in Manhattan. (Note: spoilers hereafter.)

In part 1, viewers were led to believe that the conspirators were Muslims from foreign countries. In “Countdown,” however, it soon becomes clear that the main villain is non-Muslim (though not characterized as a Christian), and the Muslims in the story are being used as scapegoats by him and his associates in a rather silly and fanciful scheme to revive Americans’ interest in our recent Middle East wars by exploding a dirty bomb in Manhattan and planting evidence so that it will be blamed on Muslim terrorists.

However, unlike in other stories of this kind which I have seen in the past couple of years, a credible character—Castle himself—expresses sympathy with the man’s aims while of course decrying his intent to commit mass murder and mayhem to achieve them. It is in fact rather surprising to see Castle do so, and I think that this element in itself redeems the episode entirely.

In addition, the narrative also points out that a character initially seen as unattractive and hardhearted is driven to act that way out of unresolved grief over the death of his wife in tower two of the World Trade Center, her having “ridden the tower down” to her death at the hands of Muslim terrorists. This reminder can hardly be seen as pro-Muslim or anti-Christian.

In no way, in my view, can this episode be fairly characterized as anti-Christian, pro-Muslim, or bigoted. As noted above, I find the story’s terrorism scheme to be fanciful, but I believe it to have been motivated by a desire to create a relatively surprising resolution to the mystery (and, alas, failing to make it either convincing or surprising, in my estimation), not any sense of prejudice or desire to make a political point. To the extent that the story is less than laudable, the reasons are aesthetic, not political or religious.

Moreover, the first sequence of the episode, in which Castle and Beckett are locked in a subzero refrigerated container with no way of escaping or informing anyone of their predicament, is an extraordinarily powerful scene and quite poignant, something regular or even casual viewers of the serious should not miss. The two characters face a slow, painful death together while individually confronting what appears to be a rather desperate love for each other which neither can find the courage to express. The scene suggests so much about the human condition, how one’s love for another can create an intense fear that makes that emotion all but unendurable and impossible to admit.

A similarly powerful and understated dramatic moment occurs when Castle tells his mother and his daughter to leave town but cannot admit why and insists that they tell no one else, lest it lead to a citywide panic. Later, Castle realizes that another character faces such emotional wrenching and vexing moral dilemmas every day.

Moments such as these are rather unusual in contemporary drama and are to be praised. Yes, “Countdown” has aesthetic flaws, but in my view they’re mistakes, not manifestations of prejudice.

This article originally published at The American Culture.

Natalie, whoever’s advising you … fire them. If no one’s advising you, find someone who doesn’t carry a small dog in their purse or dates someone who does. Look to the real world for help. Look to someone who’s spent a few years in a land where the zip codes don’t start with “9-0.” Someone who cares enough about you and your career to say (without any “Honey, babys”):

“Nat, past the gates of your community and away from the hills of Hollywood losing your job doesn’t fuel passion, it fuels despair, and working a job you hate is almost as bad because of the big black  permanent ball of dread it plants in your gut. I know you dig Barack, I did too before he targeted my children and health care, but you can’t flak for his recession. That’s what the mainstream media is for. You have to empathize with your audience, build goodwill. Besides, you’re closing on that castle tomorrow, so today wouldn’t be a good time to get all gushy over how exciting Barack’s recession is. And if you do, I quit.”

Now I don’t mean to pick on Natalie (much), but this goes to a larger problem facing both Hollywood and those of us who love movies: The death of the movie star.

One of the big entertainment stories this year is how well starless films like “Star Trek,” “Up,” “The Hangover,” and “District 9” did while Johnny Depp, Christian Bale, Denzel Washington, Julia Roberts, John Travolta, Jack Black, Eddie Murphy, Leonardo DiCaprio, Russell Crowe, Will Ferrell, Jamie Foxx, Steve Martin, Robert Downey Jr., etc… fizzled in blockbusters and mainstream films aimed at a wide audience.

Once upon a time stars worked as a kind of insurance. No matter how good or bad the product, a strong opening weekend or two was assured followed by home video sales that pretty much guaranteed the film would at least break even. Once upon a time people wanted to see a INSERT NAME HERE movie.

No more.

Some will float excuses like the “Twitter Effect,” but that doesn’t explain crashing DVD sales or historically low ratings for the Academy Awards’ telecast. Spin it any way you want, thanks to a decade-plus of arrogant unforced errors and self-inflicted stupidity, we are no longer enamored with … The Movie Star.

The problem isn’t each individual star – who doesn’t love them some Denzel? – the problem is those damaging the brand as a whole. Airheads and insulting big mouths like Portman, Julia Roberts, George Clooney, Alec Baldwin, Streisand, Matt Damon, Sean Penn, Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins…

Year after year after year the bad apples have so soured so many of us that we no longer look at the name above the title. We don’t care who’s in it. Instead it’s, “What’s the concept, is it safe or familiar?”

In other words, “I’d rather have my intelligence insulted than who I am or what I believe in.”

For those of us in love with the movies, this is an awful trend. We love being in love with movie stars. And we don’t care how they vote or live their lives… There were all kinds of liberal stars during the Golden Age who supported all kinds of causes. No one cared. I don’t care now.

The difference between John Garfield and Sean Penn isn’t talent or politics … it’s a little thing called “class.”

Just shut up and be awesome.

The good news is that the producers are planning to resolve the show’s central story lines–Monk’s quest to identify his wife’s killer, and his attempts to become mentally healthy enough to resume his position on the San Francisco police force. (Throughout the series he has served as a consultant on homicide investigations for the force.)

Equally heartening is the fact that Psych, now entering its fourth season, has continued to improve over the years (after a very promising start) and is as enjoyable as Monk.

As I’ve noted earlier in this publication and others, Monk was a trailblazer in moving toward more entertaining, positive, cheerful and optimistic dramatic series television programming, a trend that has picked up steam as the decade progressed. Even the broadcast networks are beginning to get the message, with new, less grim, highly appealing mystery series such as The Mentalist, Castle, and the unfortunately canceled The Unusuals.

Created and produced by comedy writer Andy Breckman and debuting in July 2002, Monk was deliberately given a lighter, more comic veneer than most TV drama shows of the time, instead harking back to the entertaining TV dramas of the 1960s and early ’70s. That has led to a refreshing lightening of the tone of TV dramas, with enjoyability once again a major factor in the equation.

USA led the way with follow-up series based on the same elements–serious but not lugubrious drama, strong infusions of comedy, suspense as opposed to graphic depictions of violence and dead bodies, emphasis on solving mystery puzzles, the presence of likable central characters, etc.–as in Psych, Burn Notice, In Plain Sight, and Royal Pains.

Rival cab/sat powerhouse TNT joined the movement with similar though somewhat darker fare, such as the immensely popular The Closer and Saving Grace, and the rather lighter and very enjoyable Leverage. Others have followed suit, but none has manage to emulate the consistent charm of the USA series.

Beneath the buffoonery and formulaic mystery structure, however, Monk was quite serious, and Shaloub’s sympathetic but never smarmy depiction of the central character was an important part of its effect. In fact, the show lost a bit of its charm in the past year or so, as Adrian Monk became even more annoying and self-absorbed, with his quirky obsessiveness sometimes degenerating into mere selfishness and peevishness.

That was probably not intentional on the producers’ part, and there’s good reason to hope that they’ve righted the ship for the new season. Breckman was quoted in USA Today as being fully aware of the 1970s sensibility of the show and correctly seeing it as a virtue:

“In many ways it’s a very retro, very ’70s kind of show” that’s just not seen these days on network TV. “The pace of the show is slower than most other shows, the humor is quirkier and a little more gentle. I wear this as a badge of honor.”

In addition, the show is ending not because of a loss of quality or audience appeal: the ratings are still about as strong as ever, averaging more than five million viewers. USA decided to call an end to the show because production costs were rising beyond the ability to support it. That might seem a cold decision, but it’s the right one. Costs rise because the people involved in the production are able to demand more money, and if they really want to continue, they can stop pressing for higher salaries each year. (Not that that would ever happen.)

And given the occasional minor missteps in last year’s episodes, it’s probably best for all if Monk stops while its makers are still able to keep the quality high. In addition, the knowledge that this is their last year at it may well concentrate their minds admirably and lead to a very strong final season. The aforementioned USA Today article quoted Breckman as saying, “I want to leave viewers absolutely satisfied, and I want to pay back their loyalty.” Longtime viewers will also be glad to hear that Bitty Schramm will make an appearance this season, reprising her role as Sharona, Monk’s assistant during the first two seasons of the show.

A successful final season would allow us to hope that there might be the occasional Monk TV movie in the future (especially given the bigger budgets the format can accommodate), as with other successful mystery shows such as Columbo; Murder, She Wrote; and Jonathan Creek.

That would be a consummation devoutly to be wished. In the meantime, sixteen more episodes of Monk, plus resolution of the major story lines, is a fine prospect indeed, as is the new season of Psych.

Certainly Castle has plenty of immorality and other damaging personal behavior in evidence. Set in modern-day Manhattan, the series stars Nathan Fillion (Firefly) as wealthy mystery writer Richard Castle, who accompanies police detective Kate Beckett (Stana Katic, The Spirit, Quantum of Solace) on homicide investigations in order to glean valuable real-life knowledge to use in his murder mysteries. The conceit is that Castle is able to get this kind of access because he is a friend of the mayor and many other highly influential people in the city.

This cute premise enables the show to give viewers a view of Manhattan high life while ensuring its central characters are doing something highly worthwhile: bringing murderers to justice, of course. That has been a staple of mystery fiction dating back to the nineteenth century and exemplified by MGM’s highly enjoyable Thin Man film series of the 1930s and ’40s and the TV series Hart to Hart, Remington Steele, and McMillan and Wife. And in presenting the stories and circumstances behind the murder mysteries the couple is engaged in solving, Castle has plenty of opportunities to show the great variety of vices in New York City life both high and low.

The show’s overall approach thus fits right in with the contemporary trend of using sensationalistic subject matter and depictions of immoral, selfish, or irresponsible behavior to tell stories that make positive moral points.

This approach is evident in the characterizations of the people surrounding the title character. Castle’s mother, former Broadway star Martha Rodgers (superbly portrayed by Susan Sullivan) and his first ex-wife, Meredith (Darby Stanchfield), embody irresponsibility and selfishness, while Det. Beckett and Alexis, Castle’s daughter, represent good sense and altruism.

Katic portrays Beckett as a stolid, earnest, determined police detective with the attractiveness of a supermodel. (Yes, this is a Hollywood product.) A particularly laudable aspect of the show is how it portrays Alexis’s desire to be good while surrounded by temptations as she grows up wealthy in Manhattan; actress Molly Quinn conveys those stresses superbly.

Castle stands between those two pairs of women both literally and figuratively; he is no monk, and he is habitually given to much mockery and high spirits, but he is highly successful (and maintains an amazingly expansive Manhattan apartment) because he works hard and is one of the best in the world at what he does. While wealthy and privileged, he is occasionally taken down a peg or two, especially by Det. Beckett.

Castle, moreover, is often a slave to his desires (like human beings in general). In “Always Buy Retail” he excuses a choice he regrets by saying, “The thing with crazy people is: the sex is terrific!” Yet he is a very understanding and loving father to Alexis, and is more than willing to disregard his own safety in order to help Kate and the various crime victims he runs across.

In the pilot episode, “Flowers for Your Grave,” Castle is presented as an annoying, wealthy, over-privileged smart-aleck, but in subsequent episodes the producers immediately toned down those unappealing qualities and showed him to be a willing learner in his role of following police investigations, and, more importantly, they stressed his positive qualities as a responsible and loving father to well-bred Alexis, whom he is raising as a single parent.

On the job as a consultant to the NYPD and Kate Beckett in particular, he shows great insights into people’s character and human nature in general, and typically at some point late in each episode he will convey some wise piece of character analysis that points the way toward the solution of the mystery at the center of the story.

Thus Castle is a reasonably complex character and exemplifies the show’s approach. The overall impression the program sends is that life is not easy, but it still can and should be filled with joy. That’s a rather stark contrast to much of what is conveyed by the contemporary American culture, and the way that Castle melds that optimistic, positive spirit with strong moral messages is exemplary.

For example, episode 3, “Hedge Fund Homeboys” depicts a group of modern-day “vile bodies,” a group of spoiled, privileged prep school teens, among whom a sexual triangle leads to premeditated murder. The self-confidence and smugness of the murderer are clearly a consequence of a spoiled upbringing, and he is a thoroughly unlikeable character–there’s no sympathy for the devil here.

That’s especially true because of the way Alexis dispels any potential cynicism in the episode and removes any excuses for the teens’ transgressions (such as blaming the parents or the culture), for she is not only well-behaved and morally astute, she has a powerful and active conscience. In a very affecting scene, she is wracked with guilt and insists that her father discipline her for a minor offense she had concealed from him until the guilt overpowered her and she felt compelled to confess.

Her earnestness about wanting to do the right thing is laudable and appealing. Even more importantly, her intentionality in making moral choices makes a strong case that people can and should be held responsible for their actions.

This idea is presented with similar force in episode 4, ‘Nanny McDead.’ A wealthy man who has been cheating on his wife with at least two different women causes a murder, as one of his mistresses kills the other out of rage when she finds out about this further betrayal. She is pregnant and had believed him when he told her he was planning to leave his wife and marry her. After talking her out of committing suicide, Kate discusses the husband’s role in the murder: “What that guy did had consequences, only he’ll get to just walk away,” she says.

That’s true, and it vividly shows the awful consequences of adultery and the overweening selfishness it represents. The man’s adultery led directly not only to divorce but also to murder, and Beckett and the episode’s writers are careful to make sure we understand his full culpability. The combination of lust, anger, murder, and accurate attribution of moral responsibility makes for a powerfully moral story without any hint of preachiness.

The same is true of episode 7, “Home Is Where the Heart Stops.” Beckett tells the grieving daughter of the murder victim, who feels guilty for not being with her mother when murder occurred, “I’m telling you it’s not your fault. The ones to blame are the monsters that murdered your mother.” The series is full of such moments.

While presenting a good deal of sensationalistic subject matter, Castle does right by its viewers in refusing to give in to moral relativism or make vice and selfishness glamorous. It’s exemplary series television.

—S. T. Karnick, editor of The American Culture