R.J. Decker. Anna Pigeon. With names like those, these two characters could only have one job: detective. As we brace ourselves for a new Rockford Files and a fresh crop of sleuths on TV, Editor-in-chief Danette Chavez wants to know: What’s your favorite fictional detective name?
Detective Harry Hole, Detective Hole and Jo Nesbø’s book series
A good fictional detective name conjures a mental image of the investigator in question: “Columbo” evokes the character’s rumpledness and the way he’s often underestimated; “Rust Cohle” captures that cop’s world-weariness; and “Bosch” definitely sounds like the name of the lead of a popular franchise that you swear you’ll catch up one of these days. But nothing can really prepare you for Detective Hole—the show or the eponymous character, who, true to his name, is nursing a gaping, uh, void created by having seen way too much fucked-up stuff in his career. Yes, yes, if you’ve read Jo Nesbø’s books or seen the Michael Fassbender film or speak Norwegian, you’re well ahead of the rest of us, but you’re also not having as much fun as someone discovering Harry Hole for the first time. Recency bias and maturity be damned, I haven’t enjoyed saying the name of a show or describing a character’s actions this much in ages. And there are 13 books in Nesbø’s series, so there’s lots more Hole to explore. [Danette Chavez]
Player Character, Disco Elysium
There are a great many wonderful fictional detectives with a great many fictional names, but none have as many great fictional names as the player character in Disco Elysium, whose name is actually one of the various mysteries he’s trying to solve in a post-party stupor. This gives the hungover harbinger of the law the opportunity to dub himself dozens of things over the course of the game, including (but not limited to) Tequila Sunset, Firewalker, The Law, Human Can-Opener, Icebreaker, Supercop, Brother-man, and The Sunboy. Other characters, most of whom are also at a loss for this down-and-out detective’s identity, will call him things like Captain Sober, Mr. Feminist, Detective Pig, and Officer Discotheque. It’s not my place to say whether or not he was born as “Ham Sandwich” (you’ll have to play), but delighting in this identity crisis is just the first layer of unknowns in the game. [Jacob Oller]
Inspector Tiger, Monty Python’s Flying Circus
Monty Python’s “Inspector Tiger” sketch is one of those things I quote fairly often that people don’t necessarily know I’m quoting. (“Alduce me to introlow myself” just rolls off the tongue in such a pleasing way.) I don’t think anyone would make the case that it’s the strongest Flying Circus sketch ever, but it’s full of dumb little jokes that I love, chief among them the names of the various investigators in this Agatha Christie parody. Inspector Tiger, Chief Superintendent Lookout, and Assistant Chief Constable Theresamanbehindyou are basically three versions of the same joke, a name that the other characters can repeat to spook at least two less-than-brilliant detectives. To me, it’s stupid in the best way and takes up an inordinate amount of real estate in my brain. [Drew Gillis]
Mike Hammer, Kiss Me Deadly
His name is Mike Hammer. Is there a harder name than that? The grouchiest, meanest, and grimiest of the detective fiction genre, a blunt force character to match author Mickey Spillane’s tight-lipped prose. Mike Hammer is the end of the line, you get what you pay for, down and dirty noir hero. His name is Mike fucking Hammer, and by the end of this story, everyone involved will probably be worse off. In addition to appearing in 13 novels, several movies, and two TV shows, Hammer is the perfect protagonist for the movie that brought film noir to its atomic ending, Kiss Me Deadly. Appropriately, he was the last one to go. His curiosity and desire for action and purpose unknowingly set the fuse to not just his demise but the entire world’s. You can’t imagine Spade or Marlowe in that spot. It’d be too heartbreaking. They’re too sensitive, too vulnerable. Always crying in their scotch. Mike Hammer, on the other hand? He can take it. [Matt Schimkowitz]
Slam Bradley (DC Comics)
(Image: DC Comics)
I’m fairly sure I’ve only ever read one actual comic featuring DC Comics detective Sam “Slam” Bradley: Darwyn Cooke’s delightful and beautiful 2004 throwback DC: The New Frontier, which pairs him with alien gumshoe The Martian Manhunter. But I’ve thought about his name a lot, because, honestly, how could you not? Slam Bradley! Say it softly, it’s almost like praying; say it loud, and there’s the sound of a million “BIF!’ “BAM!” “POW!” fistfights playing. As the original inhabitant of DC’s Detective Comics book before another, slightly more popular detective scooped it out from under him, this pre-Superman Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel creation may not have had gadgets, ziplines, or a mask on his side. (Or a modern understanding of racial sensitivity, given how many of his early adventures reportedly trafficked in tired Yellow Peril stereotypes.) But what he did have was a name capable of taking bad guys down with sheer percussive force. Slam Bradley, baby! [William Hughes]
Gene Parmesan,Arrested Development
Introducing Gene Parmesan, talking in a fake Italian accent to honor his last name, is a genius move. Martin Mull played the Bluths’ “far from the best” private eye only for a handful of episodes, but it was enough to turn Gene Parmesan into a legendary Arrested Development figure. He’s the kind of sleuth who clearly spends more time picking out his disguises than actually doing his job. But it’s worth it because it leads to the recurring gag of Lucille yelping in delight when she sees him dressed as a janitor, a doctor, in a bear costume, and as a firefighter. Arrested Development has some funky character names, from Bob Loblaw to Marky Bark, but Gene Parmesan allows the show to pull off yet another running gag: Sometimes, the Bluths are seen eating parmesan paired with, ugh, mustard, but it’s a reference to Mull starring in Clue as Colonel Mustard. Trust Arrested Development to insert a P.I. story with a cheesy joke that works. [Saloni Gajjar]
Ty Lookwell, Lookwell
It’s unfair to say that Conan O’Brien and Robert Smigel built Lookwell almost entirely out of the premise of this AVQ&A. Yet one of the too-funny-to-live pilot’s most reliable gags involves Adam West’s deluded actor Ty Lookwell being confused for other TV detectives of the past, both real (Banacek, Mannix) and imagined (Branagan, Bennigan). There’s an authentic ring to the name of his actual onscreen alter ego, Bannigan, but Ty himself has an only-in-primetime moniker that would look just right over a Mike Post theme and footage of a speeding car. (Or the parody of such in the opening credits of a single-camera comedy passed on by NBC in 1991.) It’s just the right fit for a guy so dense he confuses his time as a cut-rate Kojak for case-closing bona fides: In order to fulfill his self-appointed duties as amateur sleuth and guru to a gaggle of overly credulous acting students, he must, indeed “look well.” [Erik Adams]
Popeye Doyle, The French Connection
Don’t get me wrong. Gene Hackman is terrifying as Detective Popeye Doyle in The French Connection. I just struggle saying his name without so much as a little bit of a smirk, so I will never forget it. The fact that Hackman and director William Friedkin put the fear of God in a viewer over what this loose canon cop might do next is a testament to the staying power of The French Connection. Detective Popeye and Popeye The Sailor Man both share cartoonish displays of masculinity: animated Popeye through his muscles and tough guy bravado, Detective Popeye demonstrates this in a less family friendly way with his fondness for violence, racism, car chases, and intimidation. I know it’s the problem of watching too many cartoons, but imagine finding out the cop who doesn’t play by the rules investigating a case goes by the name of Popeye. Is his partner Goofy? [Monica Castillo]
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