John Cassavetes didn't just play a murderer in Étude in Black. He basically hijacked the show. Usually, a Columbo episode follows a very specific, comfortable rhythm, but this Season 2 premiere feels like a feature film that accidentally wandered onto a television set. It’s long. It’s moody. It has a dog that stole the hearts of millions. Honestly, if you’re looking for the moment the series cemented its status as a cultural titan, this is it.
Alex Benedict, played by Cassavetes, is a world-class conductor with a massive ego and a very inconvenient mistress. Jennifer Welles, a talented pianist in his orchestra, wants him to go public with their affair. Benedict, who is married to the woman who essentially owns the orchestra, decides that murder is a much more efficient career move than divorce. It’s a classic setup, but the execution is anything but standard.
The Chaos of Cassavetes and Falk
What most people don't realize is that Peter Falk and John Cassavetes were incredibly close friends in real life. That chemistry is the engine under the hood of Étude in Black. You can see it in the way they lean into each other’s personal space. They aren't just acting; they’re riffing.
Falk actually pushed for Cassavetes to be the villain because he knew their styles would clash in the most beautiful way possible. Cassavetes was the king of American independent cinema, a man who lived for improvisation and raw, gritty realism. Bringing that energy into a polished network mystery show was a huge risk. It paid off. The scenes where Columbo pestered Benedict at the Hollywood Bowl feel lived-in and messy. They feel real.
That First Appearance of Dog
This is the episode. This is the one where we meet "Dog," the lethargic Bassett Hound that became a series staple. Legend has it that the producers felt Columbo needed a sidekick or a "hook" for the new season. Falk resisted at first. He thought the character was enough on his own. But then he saw the Bassett Hound.
The dog was so lazy, so unenthusiastic, and so utterly uninterested in police work that Falk realized it was the perfect mirror for Columbo’s own rumpled aesthetic. In Étude in Black, the scenes at the vet are some of the funniest in the series. It’s not just "funny for the 70s." It’s genuinely sharp character comedy. Columbo is trying to find a name for the dog, and the dog just stares at him. It’s a masterclass in low-stakes television writing that builds immense viewer loyalty.
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A Murder in High Fidelity
The murder itself is a bit of a logistical nightmare. Benedict sneaks out during a rehearsal, kills Jennifer, makes it look like a suicide, and gets back before anyone misses him. It relies heavily on a mechanical timer and a very specific carnation.
The carnation is the "gotcha." It’s always something small with Columbo, isn't it? A smudge on a shoe. A cigar ash. Here, it’s a flower. Benedict drops his boutonnière at the crime scene. It’s a simple mistake, the kind a man blinded by his own brilliance would make. He thinks he’s playing a symphony; Columbo realizes he’s just missing a note.
Why the 90-Minute Format Worked (and Didn't)
Étude in Black was originally slated as a one-hour episode. However, NBC wanted more content. They padded it out to nearly 100 minutes. Usually, padding is the death of a mystery. It makes the pacing drag. It leads to boring "driving scenes" and pointless B-plots.
But here? The padding actually helps. It gives us more time to watch Benedict conduct. We get to see the actual process of a maestro at work. It adds a layer of "prestige" that the shorter episodes sometimes lacked. You get to see the scale of the Hollywood Bowl. You feel the pressure of the upcoming performance. The length allows the tension to simmer rather than boil over immediately. It’s a slow burn in the best sense of the word.
The Reality of the Hollywood Bowl
They actually filmed on location. That’s not a backlot. That is the real Hollywood Bowl, and those are real musicians. Director Nicholas Colasanto—who many will remember as "Coach" from Cheers—did a phenomenal job capturing the sheer scale of the venue.
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When Columbo is walking through those empty rows of seats, he looks smaller than ever. It emphasizes the "class warfare" subtext that makes the show work. Benedict is a man of culture, power, and high-society standing. Columbo is a guy in a cheap coat who worries about his dog’s appetite. Seeing that contrast play out against the backdrop of one of the most famous musical venues in the world is visual storytelling at its peak.
Decoding the Final Confrontation
The ending of Étude in Black is polarizing for some fans. Columbo reveals his hand during a televised performance. It’s high drama. Benedict is trapped by his own televised image.
- The Carnation: The physical evidence that ties him to the room.
- The Tape: The recording that proves he wasn't where he said he was.
- The Ego: Benedict’s refusal to admit he could be outsmarted by a man who looks like he slept in his car.
Benedict’s reaction isn't a typical "villain breakdown." It’s more of a quiet realization. He’s a conductor. He understands when a performance has reached its finale. There’s a certain respect in his eyes when he looks at Columbo in those final frames. He knows he’s been out-conducted.
Common Misconceptions About the Episode
A lot of people think this was the first episode of the series. It wasn't. It was the Season 2 opener. People also often mistake the director; while Cassavetes was a legendary director himself, he didn't direct this one, though his fingerprints are all over the acting choices.
Another weird myth is that the dog died during filming. Not true. That dog lived a long, presumably very nap-filled life and appeared in many more episodes. The dog was actually quite young, just very, very good at looking tired.
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How to Watch It Like an Expert
If you’re going to revisit this classic, don’t just look for the clues. Look at the hands. Watch Benedict’s hands while he conducts and watch Columbo’s hands when he’s fumbling for his notebook. The episode is a study in movement.
Pay attention to the color palette. The 1970s "brown and gold" aesthetic is in full effect here, but it’s used to create a sense of stifling, old-money wealth. Jennifer’s apartment, by contrast, feels airy and modern—until it becomes a tomb.
Actionable Insights for Columbo Fans
- Compare the Cuts: If you can find the original broadcast version versus the syndicated cuts, notice how the pacing changes. The "long version" is superior for the atmosphere.
- Study the Supporting Cast: Look for Blythe Danner as Benedict’s wife. She’s incredible. She plays the "betrayed but stoic" socialite with a nuance that many guest stars missed.
- The Carnation Trick: If you’re a writer or a mystery fan, analyze how the carnation is introduced. It’s "planted" (pun intended) so early that you forget about it until the very end. That’s how you write a fair-play mystery.
- Listen to the Score: The music isn't just background noise. It’s a character. The pieces Benedict conducts are chosen to mirror his internal state—grandiose, complex, and eventually, tragic.
Étude in Black remains a high-water mark for 1970s television. It proved that a "cop show" could be artistic, sprawling, and deeply character-driven without losing the "whodunnit" spark that kept people tuning in. It’s a testament to the power of putting two powerhouse actors in a room and letting them fight it out with intellect instead of fists.
To get the most out of your next viewing, track the timeline of Benedict's movements during the murder scene on a notepad. You'll see just how tight the script's logic is, even with the added length. Then, watch the silent exchange between Falk and Cassavetes in the final three minutes; it says more about their characters than ten pages of dialogue ever could.