Just One More Thing: ‘Columbo: The 1970s (Seasons 1-7)’ on Kino Lorber Blu-ray

The deceptively unassuming figure of Los Angeles homicide detective Lieutenant Columbo (Peter Falk), with his rumpled raincoat, cheap cigars, and seeming absentmindedness, might not call to mind the sprawling existentialist novels of Fyodor Dostoevsky. But Columbo’s ancestry can be traced all the way back to Porfiry Petrovich, the pesky, psychologically attuned investigator in Crime and Punishment.

Like that literary classic, the show that shares Columbo’s name functions as an inverted detective story, not so much a whodunit as a howcatchem. In each episode, we spend time with the murderer, soak up their milieu, and witness the commission of the crime. Only then does Columbo make his entrance onto the scene. From there, it’s an escalating battle of nerves between the dogged detective and the initially arrogant murderer.

While Rodion Raskolnikov, the tortured protagonist of Crime and Punishment, is an impoverished student who kills out of economic necessity fueled by a philosophy of amoral self-aggrandizement, the killers in Columbo typically come from a more rarified social stratum. Politicians, Hollywood stars, business tycoons, and more, they inevitably bask in their own wealth, power, and fame. And they usually kill to maintain the status quo. Having these glitterati face off against the decidedly blue-collar Columbo introduces an element of pointed social critique (and sometimes satire) that was unusual in American crime shows of the time.

The brainchild of frequent collaborators Richard Levinson and William Link, Columbo debuted in 1968 as the made-for-TV movie Prescription: Murder featuring Gene Barry as a psychiatrist who enlists the patient he’s having an affair with to help kill his wife. Three years later, the show debuted with the pilot episode Ransom for a Dead Man, starring Lee Grant as a criminal lawyer. It then went into production as part of The NBC Mystery Movie wheel show, alongside Dennis Weaver in McCloud and Rock Hudson and Susan Saint James in McMillan and Wife. One benefit of this format was that only a handful of feature-length episodes were made per season, with increased production time and resources ensuring a high caliber of storytelling.

Episodes visually run the gamut from efficient yet unflashy (helmed by seasoned directors like Bernard L. Kowalski and Boris Sagal) to the more experimental efforts deployed by an up-and-coming Steven Spielberg, who lavishes lots of unconventional camera placement and wide-angle lensing on “Murder by the Book,” the first season premiere that was scripted by future Hill Street Blues and NYPD Blue creator Steven Bochco. Sonically, Columbo is buoyed by distinctive scores that often feature offbeat instrumentation from composers like Dick DeBenedictis, Billy Goldenberg, and Gil Mellé, the man responsible for the indelible Night Gallery theme.

One of the foremost pleasures to be garnered from Columbo stems from the always sterling acting, especially watching Falk go tête-à-tête with the episode’s “guest murderer,” invariably a high-wattage performer familiar from their work in film and TV. Falk’s often improvised fidgeting and verbal tics were intended to keep his co-stars on their toes. Then there’s his iconic last-minute delivery of just one more question, the almost offhand acuity of which typically reveals to the killer that Columbo is a lot sharper than he appears.

Such was the enjoyment of working opposite Falk that some of the headliners returned on multiple occasions to commit murder most foul. Over the course of the first seven seasons, Jack Cassidy and Robert Culp both turn up in three episodes, and Patrick McGoohan twice. (Martin Landau only appears once, but he plays killer twins!) McGoohan, creator of the cult British TV series The Prisoner, also directed two episodes, in one of which (“Identity Crisis”) he also plays the murderer. Nor are the killers the only known quantities. Episodes are often deep-stacked with other familiar faces appearing as murder victims and associated characters.

Adding appeal for the ardent cinephile is the frequent participation of actors associated with Peter Falk’s film work. Independent filmmaking icon John Cassavetes brings his diabolical charm to the season two opener “Étude in Black,” and it’s rumored that he may have directed parts of the episode as well, though it’s far afield from his preferred style of improvisatory histrionics. Fellow Husbands star Ben Gazzara, though he doesn’t appear in front of the camera, directed the episodes “A Friend in Deed” and “Troubled Waters.”

Elsewhere, it’s an absolute delight to see Falk and Vincent Price sharing the frame during the episode “Lovely but Lethal,” which also stars Vera Miles and makes a sly reference to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho at one point. And, in perhaps my favorite bit of stunt casting, Johnny Cash stars as a philandering gospel singer in “Swan Song,” where the man summarily dispatches his shrewish wife, played by Ida Lupino, in a rigged plane crash. For these reasons and more, Columbo remains one of the most appealing and iconic TV series of the 1970s.

Columbo: The 1970s (Seasons 1-7) is available on December 19 from Kino Lorber.