23 Years Later, the Best Detective Show Still Holds Up

I was never a fan of the quirky police procedural. Whether it was New England small-town crime solving in Murder She Wrote or bodies being reassembled in Bones, the murder-a-week formula always seemed too paint-by-numbers for me. Crime happens near our protagonist, hijinks ensue, and then the crime gets solved. It was only after watching all eight seasons of Monk at my fiancées request that I finally understood why this genre has become a binge-worthy streaming staple. 

Starring Tony Shalhoub as the show’s namesake Adrian Monk, each episode manages to fit all of my favorite oddities into one bite-sized morsel. Since the show’s 2002 debut, Monk solves over 100 crimes with the help of a bumbling San Francisco police chief and his second-in-command. Monk’s personality quirks are never specifically explained, but he is afraid of most things, hates being dirty, and never steps outside his comfort zone. He’ll vacuum his house a dozen times daily or touch every parking meter on the street before he ever shakes a stranger’s hand. He’s what people on social media today might affectionately call “neurospicy.”

He’s also remarkably astute and all-remembering, able to piece together moments and details that most of us could never remember. Every time, Monk will solve the case and describe in vivid detail how it happened. “It’s a gift and a curse” has become a catchphrase sold on mugs. It’s formulaic but not boring, constantly riffing over whatever uncomfortable scenario the writers give Monk each episode. 

What really pulled me into Monk is that it doesn’t shy away from the ridiculous. I can’t think of another show that would frame an entire plot around a monkey with a gun as a murder suspect, or an animatronic being stolen from a museum. It’s that zaniness, paired with Shalhoub’s fantastic commitment to the bit, that makes Monk still worth watching all these years later. 

Shalhoub is one of the best physical comedians to ever pratfall. He’s sometimes thrust into extraordinary scenarios, where he’s trapped underwater, fighting off a knife-wielding Santa Claus, or chasing a moving fighter jet. But he also manages to imbue even the mundane with charm, keeping himself just out of touching distance when getting scanned with a metal detector, or wearing a suit to the beach to avoid getting sand near his skin. 

The ever-rotating cast of guest stars adds another layer of depth to each episode. John Turturro appears in a recurring role as Monk’s brother, Tim Curry plays criminal mastermind Dale the Wale, and Snoop Dogg cameos as an up-and-coming musician who eventually raps the solution to the crime.

More recent shows centered on crime solvers with immaculate gifts (like High Maintenance, Psych, and Castle) all take a little bit from Monk—but none of them push the envelope nearly as hard. His awkward DNA is stapled directly into how these characters solve crimes and murders, but none of them need to keep wipes in their pockets or have therapy sessions as key moments of the story. Monk’s struggles coexist with the profound guilt he has about his deceased wife, which adds a layer of depth when Monk makes a breakthrough or has an emotional moment. 

What makes Monk worth watching decades later is its zaniness paired beautifully with heart. There were episodes where I’d hysterically laugh and cry, with neither emotion feeling unearned or forced. If you want to see what it’s like living in San Francisco’s concrete jungle as a neurotic who just wants to earn back his badge, I highly recommend watching. 

All eight seasons of Monk are available to stream on Amazon Prime and Peacock.