Velma Review - Episodes 1 & 2 Recap: An exercise in re-camped excess of a beloved, formerly unseen character

It's no mystery why critics are not showering praise on Mindy Kaling's latest female creation, the reimagined offshoot of the cerebral Velma from "Scooby Doo," but perhaps it's worth a second look.

Velma on HBO Max, is a woke, meta-wonk look at the brainy, crime-solving, glasses-sporting, short-hair bearing Velma Dinkley of Scooby-Doo fame. Its subject matter is an immediate prick to the heart and minds of feminist-identifying Xers and Millenials everywhere who grew up on a steady diet of Scooby snacks and the campy sleuthing skills of crime-solving “meddling” kids of yesteryear who forged an unlikely alliance comprised of a cool, popular kid (Fred), his equally glamorous cool gal counterpart (Daphne), a stoner guy (Shaggy) and his best friend, dog (Scooby), and last but least, the less hot, smart and serious girl Velma. Because 50 years ago you couldn’t be hot or even cute and smart if you were a female? Then again, there is no male equivalent for Velma, but maybe that’s a statement in and of itself about the patriarchy? Nonetheless, Velma has a lot to say about the patriarchy.

Velma is of South Asian descent and running joke of the show is that no one can pinpoint Velma’s ethnicity. The show leans into Velma’s being gay, putting out plenty of kisses between these two frenemies.

In Velma we’ve time warped into the future (anyone else automatically start singing “Fly like an eagle” by Steve Miller Band here or just me?) to today’s Velma, a 21st century huntress archetype personified. She’s all warrior pose fierceness with her incisive dry wit - channeling radical candor and irreverence into her mission(s) and goals. To hell with everyone and everything that stands in her way!

If only…

Putting aside that this Velma is dealing with some serious abandonment - a missing mom, who upped and left after Velma solved a mystery for which Velma still harbors a lot of guilt for, leaving an anxiety-ridden Velma with hallucinatory spells where her mom is transformed into a “medusa” looking witch when adversity strikes; an absent former best friend, Daphne who sprouted legs and long straight hair one day and ran off with the cool girls (“We were friends until Daphne got hot and ditched me - I could kill them all.”), and finally a dad, who barely notices her, and is unapologetically direct (“Mom left because she hated us.”) while moving on with his much younger pregnant, wine-culture mom-fluencer - Kaling seems to have a thing for the self-involved, devil-may-care actions of her female teenage protagonists. (Devi from Never Have I Ever, every main female college girl in The Sex Lives of College Girls). It’s her signature motif, and even as far back as The Mindy Project. And yet, in Never Have I Ever, when Devi Vishwakumar goes too overboard with her narcissistic tendencies (she is a high schooler after all and one also struggling with a deceased parent and abandonment), her friends, Fabiola and Eleanor and her therapist are able to reign her in. There’s a balancing act. The same can’t be said for Velma, which hasn’t exhibited this form of redemption or character arc in the way of the gal pal trapeze act - at least not in the first two episodes.

Norville saves Velma from herself but she probably won’t say “thank you” or repay his kindness ever because why should she? The payment is her flaky friendship which only works when she needs something.Then again, it’s hard to be sympathetic for Norville, especially after Velma’s rejection he goes onto seriously consider hawking a kidney to help her pay for her mom’s cold case file from Daphne.

In the show, the closest we have to Velma’s “gal pal” in Velma is Norville, formerly called “Shaggy” by those of us old enough to remember, and who in this version is African American and cool, kind, smart and utterly in love and devoted to Velma, who brutally rejects him by laughing off his honest proclamation of his feelings for her. Norville is also the only one able to get Velma back to a calm state when her anxiety flares up (evil mom monster hallucination rears her head and threatens to consume her) but unfortunately for him, it’s at his expense since Velma’s too busy laughing at him to take his feelings or anyone’s feelings too seriously.

Fred, here, is a serial murder suspect (likely didn’t do it though) and symbolizes the ultimate in white, male privilege. At one point, Velma says of Fred’s likeliness to commit a crime and potential culpability, “If I were a rich white dude I’d kill everyone just to get away with it.” Fred’s also deeply insecure (per Velma, his dad is a “dilf”) because he hasn’t yet reached puberty (his legs are as smooth as a baby’s bottom) which also explains why he won’t take Daphne to the “makeout bathroom” where unbeknownst to him and almost everyone else, his girlfriend, Daphne, aka the “Candy [Wo]man” sells drugs. And guess what? Turns out Velma is all about selling drugs with Daphne if it means getting her mom’s cold case file from Daphne who steals the file from her mom, a police detective, and then offers the file to Velma for $500. Some friend! But really don’t fault Daphne - she’s just flexing her savvy entrepreneurial girl-bossiness in this universe. Even good things here are somehow warped into no-so-good things. Daphne’s moms are voiced by Wanda Sykes and Jane Lynch, which is pretty exciting. In this version, the adults are pretty much useless as is the theme in the Scooby Doo series and any self-respecting show about competent kids.

I miss the simplicity of the old Scooby. And Fred’s ascot. In Velma, Fred Jones is heir to Jone’s Gentlemen Accessories.

Noticeably absent from the cast is Scooby as Warner Brothers wouldn’t or couldn’t give the Scooby rights to the show for use here. Too bad. This show could use a dose of OG silliness to keep itself from taking itself too seriously. A critic commented that this show is ten years too late and maybe that’s its problem. Still, I hold out hope for the nerdy, “invisible” and “underestimated” often unsung hero that a lot of women can relate to - or those of us who aren’t Daphnes (that includes me). Perhaps Velma will rise to the occasion in episodes (3-10) and pay a bit more homage to the human aspects of vulnerability, not seeing snark as the antidote to all nuances of human decency. Because if Velma could teach us anything, it’s that it’s not about being the smartest person in the room or being “right” but moreover, the importance of being seen. As Fred says in one very surreal moment in which Velma dresses up like a “hot girl” for school and walks down the hall where no one recognizes her (which was a stand-in for an episode of Never Have I Ever where Devi tricks everyone into think she’s a confident, popular girl walking down the hallway of her high school), “It [Velma] is just a scared little boy who wants our friendship.”

And ignoring that it was Fred that delivered this poignant line for a second and that he referenced Velma as an “it”, maybe, just maybe, its resounding, on-the-money depth becomes the balm this show needs. In other words, let’s understand that even though there’s a killer out there stuffing high school popular girl corpses into lockers and into recycling bins and sucking their brains out of their heads (reminds me of this amazing show) for roaches to procreate on top of, let’s get the fact that at the center of the sizzle, there’s a girl who is hurting for connection, authenticity, and people to like her.

Miscellaneous:

In case you are thinking to watch this show with the family, be forewarned: This is not your mom or dad’s Hanna-Barbera Scooby Doo. This version feels more like it belongs after 10 PM on Adult Swim. It’s gratuitous in its violence, nudity, and mature cultural references.

Best laughs can be found in the first five minutes of the first episode. Putting aside the copulating cockroaches that fester around every “brain-less” cool girl corpse, it’s a scene out of a Kevin Williamson production, Daphne and her gaggle of hot, stereotypical mean girls are showering together naked in the Crystal Cove high school locker room, when Daphne, in all her self-referential slasher film glory, who could be winking at the camera says, “Have you ever noticed how pilot episodes of TV shows always have more sex and nudity than the rest of the series?”

Velma to Daphne who attacks her in the girls’ locker room as Velma is dressed up in a dark hoody and lurking around: “What the hell? You almost killed me. [opens her locker to find a dead girl, Brenda] Brenda, did you stick yourself in the locker to prove how skinny you are again? Wait she has no brain. I’m not dissing her she has no brain.” (Still laughing everytime I read or hear this line and truthfully this is where Kaling excels!)

The show is bombing in Rotten Tomatoes and in the critic’s corner with consensus of :

Jinkies! This radical reworking of the beloved Mystery Team has plenty of attitude and style, but it doesn't have the first clue for how to turn its clever subversion into engaging fun.

Murder Count: 2

Ok, let’s keep trying and see what the next 2 episodes hold for us…