The biggest problem with Stitchers isn’t the logical leaps it forces its audience to take, or the show’s reliance on Emma Ishta’s facial reactions – which somehow manage to be equal parts wooden and cartoonish. Instead, the series seems utterly incapable of telling stories by showing the audience how the characters are feeling, and consequently resorts to stating everything outright.
As the title hints, “2.0” deals with many of the characters trying on an improved version of themselves, including Kirsten, who has become more compassionate after gaining the ability to feel human emotion, and Cameron, whose near-death experience has given him a new zest for life. However, instead of capitalizing on this setup to show how these profound emotional experiences could influence Kirsten and Cameron’s respective behaviors, or even how they approach their job, the show simply relies on exposition to do all the work. Sure, Kirsten tells the audience how difficult it is for her to deal with the new emotions she is feeling, and Camille, Linus and Cameron continuously mention how much better, different she is now, but we’re not given a real window into this struggle.
It’s difficult to tell if this flawed system of telling-not-showing is simply bad writing and storytelling, or if it’s a result of trying to dumb the show down for a teen audience (though whether there’s a difference there is a matter of opinion). Regardless, this type of storytelling can’t help but feel derivative and cheap – especially since it gets in the way of telling a much more compelling story. What happens to a person when they suddenly become plugged into their emotions? And, more importantly, if Kirsten’s inability to experience emotions was the sole factor that made her a perfect vessel for stitching, how will being able to feel impact her ability to do her job? It’s a missed opportunity for a rich exploration of character that the show squanders in favor of returning to its mystery-of-the-week structure.
Even more frustrating is Stitchers’ inability to settle on a distinctive tone. In its quest to appeal to a younger audience, the show adopts a Nickelodeon style of slapstick humor that sits unevenly against the show’s dark premise. While it is fairly natural for a procedural to gloss over the more morose facets of investigating murder, Stichers’ childlike humor makes the important jobs that the characters are supposed to be doing feel uncomfortably trivial. This is made even more evident by the fact that Linus, Cameron and Camille all seem to be the same brand of goofy-genius sidekick, with no real distinguishing personality traits, apart from Cameron’s affinity for quoting Scarface and Desi Arnaz.
Stitchers isn’t a show without potential. Its premise gives way to a personal spin on the procedural that can open the door to a wealth of stories – and conversations relating to memory, consent, and mental health. (The CW’s iZombie does a much better job of articulating and capitalizing upon a similar procedural setup.)
This show, in comparison, continually falls victim to lazy writing choices and an inability to establish tone, leaving the viewer utterly stranded in a haphazardly created mythology. If the promise of a procedural is to create a simple yet inviting world audience can spend an episode exploring without having to be a longtime fan, Stitchers, simply put, doesn’t make good on that promise. Stitchers may have potential, but it certainly hasn’t earned the trust of its audience enough to ensure they stick around.
