As an editor at two queer publications, my email inbox can become quite chaotic. Folks are always pitching me articles, sending me drafts, or just giving me a piece of their mind — with varying degrees of sanity. Readers also send me stories they think should be covered or have been overlooked. One such tip caught my eye, about a recent — and recently canceled — bi-coded Netflix show Dead Boy Detectives (2024). The more I looked into it, the more fascinated I became.
Based on characters created by Neil Gaiman for DC comics and set in the same universe as Gaiman’s bi-inclusive hit, The Sandman (2022–), Dead Boy Detectives follows the ghosts of two teenage boys, Edwin Payne (George Rexstrew) and Charles Rowland (Jayden Revri). Having refused to pass on to the afterlife, the ageless spectral boys run a detective agency solving supernatural mysteries, often for other troubled ghosts, while themselves evading Death (Kirby Howell-Baptiste, reprising her role from The Sandman) and her eager minions.
The show was well-received, earning positive reviews from outlets such as The Hollywood Reporter, The Guardian, the Los Angeles Times, Polygon, and the Daily Beast (these links have SPOILERS). And it wasn’t just critics who liked it: the series had a Rotten Tomatoes critic score of 92% and an audience score of 91%. It registered a respectable 12.6 million views in its first three months, which, while not blowing the doors off, should have been enough to renew a moderately budgeted niche genre series (and one that was not advertised very much). But when Netflix pulled the plug, the show’s fiercely loyal fans — mostly young queer viewers — sprang into action.
Fans created the websites “Save Dead Boy Detectives” and “Save Queer Stories” and trended hashtags and stories including #RenewDeadBoyDetectives and #SaveDeadBoyDetectives across social media. They boosted the show’s lead actors to the top of the celebrity video platform Cameo, wrote heartfelt articles in mainstream outlets and student newspapers alike, and collected more than 20,000 signatures in a petition to renew the series. They even crowdfunded over $12,000 to successfully put up multiple billboards in Hollywood. It’s not every day an eight-episode television show inspires such an outpouring of love.
The passion and dedication of these superfans inspired me to check out Dead Boy Detectives — and I’m glad I did. The show is a must-watch, and its backstory is just as compelling.
Before we go further, please note that this review will contain some SPOILERS for the show (I’ll keep them as minor as possible). If this is your first time reading a Unicorn Scale, the rating system is explained here, or check out our Media Entry on the series.
What I Liked:
The first thing that struck me about the show was its very Neil Gaiman-esque feel. The cinematography is often muted, as though saving itself for select spectacular shots that pop all the more because of their sparingness. The art design has a timeless quality in which the viewer can’t quite tell what year it’s taking place without being told (similar to The Umbrella Academy (2019–2024) in that respect). The lighting has a persistent but subtle ethereal haze, perfectly complemented by the soundtrack. Along with the dialogue and story, these elements beautifully coalesce into a kind of strangely surreal yet whimsical atmosphere. The visual style, and the mood it creates, reminded me very much of Gaiman’s celebrated novel American Gods (2001) and its also excellent television adaptation of the same name (2017–2021), which captured the feel of its novel better than any screen adaptation I’ve ever watched. As it happens, that show was tragically canceled as well, though at least it got three seasons.
What truly carries Dead Boy Detectives, however, is its outstanding cast. Edwin and Charles are, of course, the main attraction, and play off one another wonderfully. Edwin, who died in the 1910s and spent more than 70 years in Hell as the result of a clerical error before escaping, is methodical, prim, and serious. Charles, who died in the late 1980s, has more of a free-spirited, easy-going, working-class punk vibe going. What unites the boys, who’ve been best friends for more than 30 years now, is more than the fact that they’re both British teenage ghosts, but that both died at the hands of bullies, and neither’s death was ever investigated. Together, they’ve made it their (after) life’s purpose to look after the forgotten. But the stress of trying to stay a step ahead of Death and the repressed and unresolved emotions left over from their lives takes its toll.
The third co-star is a young American woman amusingly named Crystal Palace. Very much alive but able to see ghosts because of her psychic powers, Crystal finds herself in a demonic predicament that leaves her mind almost completely wiped clean, so she employs the boys to help her find her missing memories. In many ways, the anchor that grounds the trio, Crystal’s determination, and moral compass also become the engine that keeps the plot moving.
The supporting cast is marvelous as well, almost to an individual, from the quirky, anime-obsessed neighbor Niko (Yuyu Kitamura), to the no-nonsense goth butcher Jenny (Briana Cuoco), to the mournful walrus-turned-human Tragic Mick (Michael Beach), the crow-turned-heartthrob Monty (Joshua Colley), and the stern Night Nurse (Ruth Connel) (something in between a lesser angel and a British civil servant). And, of course, the Cat King (Lukas Gage), a mischievously sexy, shape-shifting feline wizard who steals the show at times.
I’m also a sucker for crossovers and tie-ins. Whether it’s little Easter eggs like Mortimer and Randolph from Trading Places (1983) making a cameo appearance in Coming to America (1988), or large-scale crossovers like Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere novels or the Marvel Cinematic Universe (before it jumped the shark), I love it when fictional worlds overlap. The mere fact that Dead Boy Detectives is directly connected to The Sandman, although subtle, adds another layer of intrigue.
Lastly, one particularly satisfying subplot was Edwin’s self-acceptance arc. When the Cat King attempts to seduce him, Edwin, who seems to have half-wanted it, is left shaken. Having lived and died in an era in which such things were simply unspeakable, Edwin’s afterlife has been one long exercise in repression. But, throughout the season, we see Edwin come to recognize and embrace his sexuality as a gay man.
You may be wondering, reading this on Bi.org, where bisexuality comes into the picture? We’ll get to that.
What I Didn’t Like:
After his run-ins with the Cat King, and his flirtatious almost-relationship with Monty, Edwin realizes he’s gay, but that he isn’t in love with either the cat or the crow. He’s in love with Charles. When Edwin tells Charles he loves him, Charles says he doesn’t feel the same way but is fully understanding and accepting — their relationship doesn’t become strained by it at all. And though he has a romance arc with Crystal, Charles, from his appearance to his mannerisms, personality, and speech patterns, is very queer-coded. There are moments throughout the show, from the first episode to the last, where it seems as though there’s something between the boys, a spark beyond platonic friendship that, if kindled, could lead to something more.
This dynamic, of merely hinting at bisexuality but without either showing or telling, is one that I have seen a lot during my time covering bi issues, and one I have criticized at length. Under ordinary circumstances, if a series ran its course with nothing more than between-the-lines bi what-ifs, I would not consider it a bi series. Fan theories do not a bi show make. But given the fact that Charles is bisexual in the comics, it seems clear that the series was setting up things to come in subsequent seasons, whether that meant a romance between the boys or simply on-screen confirmation of Charles’s bisexuality in some other way. Because the season was a mere eight episodes, and the show was canceled right after, I have to take that into account.
Some of the most bi shows I’ve ever watched (and reviewed) manifested far less bisexuality in their first seasons than this one, with little to no queer-coding or bi source material. Dead Boy Detectives is about two boys who are frozen in time, but who also undergo personal growth — the kind that requires multiple seasons to fully blossom. Had this show been allowed to run for at least two to three seasons, I would be truly shocked if we never saw Charles in a same-sex relationship with someone. It’s less that I didn’t like the fact that Charles’s bisexuality wasn’t made plain, and more that I’m disappointed that Netflix’s impatience stifled the development of what, I’d bet a large sum of money, would have turned out to be a colorful bi show.
But why exactly was the show canceled? Netflix does not appear to have said much, though outlets like Variety have reported that it appears to be ratings-related. Many fans aren’t buying that explanation. A common narrative among the #SaveDeadBoyDetectives community is that the show was dropped because it was too queer, pointing to a large alleged pattern of queer series being canceled at higher rates than non-queer shows. It’s very hard to quantify whether queer shows or shows with queer characters are canceled at higher-than-average rates. As to whether Dead Boy Detectives was canceled because it was queer, I’m going to have to disagree with the fans on this one. Nor do I think this has anything to do with controversies around Neil Gaiman. After all, The Sandman was renewed. The fact is, in 2024, content is more likely to be dinged for a lack of LGBT representation than it is for having too much. It’s not 2002 anymore. Let’s live in the year in which we’re living.
Dead Boy Detectives was not canceled because it was queer. It was canceled because this is Netflix’s incompetent modus operandi. Netflix has become notorious for canceling shows at the drop of a hat and not giving them enough runway to build a robust viewership (or proper promotion). They demand instant blockbuster success or they throw shows away. It’s gotten so bad that whenever Netflix rolls out a new series that looks intriguing, I have to ask myself whether it’s worth my time to watch season one of a show that probably won’t have a season two and almost certainly won’t have a season three. It’s just an infuriating model for producing television, especially now that Netflix has 50 competitor platforms that, though flawed in their ways, aren’t as trigger-happy with the delete button.
Cancellation matters aside, there were a few things I didn’t like about the show. The season’s villain, the witch Ester (Jenn Lyon), felt a little too Disney for me, as though Cruella de Vil learned magic. This is part of a larger issue for me. While Dead Boy Detectives can be categorized as a supernatural-horror comedy-drama, it’s also very clearly a teen show geared toward a young adult audience, which isn’t personally my jam. I enjoyed Dead Boy Detectives not because of its YA quality, but despite it. Much of the season was absorbing enough to simply immerse me in the story. But now and then, teen melodrama or the breakneck pacing that doesn’t leave room for a story to fully breathe — both hallmarks of YA/teen fiction — reminded me that this wasn’t my preferred genre. The last couple of episodes, in particular, felt a bit rushed. But these are matters of personal taste more than objective flaws I think.
The Rating:
It’s hard to score a non-miniseries on only eight episodes. Simply as a show, it was entertaining, engrossing, atmospheric, and fun. Even as someone who isn’t a fan of the YA/teen genre, I enjoyed it. And, the show’s bi shortcoming is one that I believe would, with almost 100% certainty, have been resolved in a second season. It feels a little like assessing the life of someone who died too young, before realizing their full potential. Kind of like Edwin and Charles. Except, the boys weren’t ready to pass on, and neither were their fans. Hopefully, the Dead Boy Detectives can be brought back to life. Otherwise, we’ll all be left wondering what might have been.
