Bones began life as a combo police-science procedural based on Kathy Reichs' best-selling thrillers. Because Emily Deschanel’s Temperance ''Bones'' Brennan was a forensic anthropologist, the corpses were gruesome and frequently repellent to David Boreanaz's FBI special agent Seeley Booth assigned to Bones’ cases. At first the show built its audience with the playful disparity between the literal-minded rationality of the doctor and the goofy temper of the G-man.
By now, however, anyone coming to Bones (new viewer or old faithful) might be struck by how little the cases, the plots, actually matter. Half the time the episode's murder seems to be an excuse to make light jokes, banter, and maneuver Bones and Booth ever closer to more-than-smoochy intimacy. I mean this as a compliment: A thousand other shows are all about the crime solving—Bones stands out as TV's most dependable romantic screwball comedy. (And by all reports, the deed will be done during May sweeps.)
To be sure, the star duo is surrounded by the requisite number of oddball/endearing supporting players (cheers to the cast's engaging diversity, and to John Francis Daley, doing his post–Freaks and Geeks thing as a smart-nerd psychologist). But Bones is now primarily about the way Deschanel's delicate, pie-faced loveliness contrasts with Boreanaz's sharp features and cutting smile. When their faces almost touch, it's as though he's going to slice into her.
Which is fun to watch. The chemistry here is what makes Bones an increasingly popular laboratory to show what happens when you combine brains, brawn, beauty, and biology. B+
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