When I say Bruno Heller’s The Mentalist is approaching the 10th anniversary of its final episode, I don’t expect any of you to know what I’m talking about. The show ran for seven seasons and was at its most popular when most of us were children. I started watching it myself because my mum had it playing in the living room. I meant to sit down with her for a few minutes and I ended up binging the show in its entirety in less than a week.

The Mentalist is a crime-procedural drama centered around the work of Patrick Jane (Simon Baker) –  a con artist, former pretend psychic, and severely traumatised genius. Working as an independent consultant for the California Bureau of Investigation, Jane is skilled at the art of reading people. Teresa Lisbon (Robin Tunney), who is an honest, rule-abiding agent, is used as a foil character. Since the beginning of the show, audiences watch as the two bicker like an old married couple. It’s the perfect setup for any lighthearted drama yet juxtaposes with the crimes they deal with in each episode. The show’s method of resolving crimes is unique too, with Jane tricking the murderers into revealing themselves – rather than having an actual investigation.

You can engage with The Mentalist from a drama level, but what makes it special is its overarching narrative. Patrick Jane is a man obsessed with violent revenge on Red John, the man who brutally murdered his wife and daughter five years prior. This in and of itself is practically a token motivation (fridging female characters in the twenty-first century? Really?), but there is a twist. Jane is genuinely at fault for their demise. He taunted this serial killer on TV, resulting in the murders committed being an act of ‘revenge’. This puts a charged overlay on the main plot. The guilt in Patrick Jane is palpable at any moment. A constant reminder of his greatest flaw at the time: hubris.

It is at this point in the article that I call The Mentalist a modern Greek tragedy. Succeeding in a way that no actual Greek tragedy has done for me. The show manages to convince you that he cannot move on until he kills Red John. However, doing so will destroy everything Jane has gained since. There is no simple solution for Jane. The viewer dreads the moment the conclusion will come. And when it does – after many, many tears – the katharsis comes alongside it.

This show doesn’t romanticise revenge in the way that we are so accustomed to in media. It is the story of revenge as a destructive force. The search for Red John leads Jane to push everyone around him away time and time again. And even as he builds a new life around himself, he is incapable of living it, not until he accomplishes his grisly task. By the end, you can tell he’s lost most of the fervor he felt at the beginning. Never has a tragedy so fervently convinced me of the inevitability of itself before, and that’s what makes The Mentalist special.

In another brilliant move, The Mentalist reveals that it was never a story of revenge – it was a story of healing. Despite the ease with which they could have made the conclusion to the Red John storyline the show’s ending, they ran for a short while longer. Continuing to explore the lingering effects of trauma.

With all this in mind, I say The Mentalist is an extremely entertaining and casual watch. The Major Crimes unit dynamics are hilarious. The Jane and Lisbon chemistry is riveting. The solutions to the crimes are uniquely structured. Yet the show still deserves more attention – especially as a character study. Over the last year and a half, I’ve watched the show in its entirety four times, and I’ve picked up on new details every time. I’ve cried every time. I’ve written essays on individual scenes to my friends – you guessed it, every time. There’s no such thing as psychics, but something is telling me that you should give The Mentalist a try.

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