The 3 Unforgivable Mistakes Most Shows Make (OMITB Doesn’t)

The Secret Sauce Everyone Else is Missing

In a landscape saturated with whodunits that prioritize shock over substance, one show quietly dismantles the rulebook.

While other series chase the addictive, often empty, click-bait of plot twists, “Only Murders in the Building” achieves something far more rare: it makes us care.

Its success isn’t an accident; it’s the direct result of committing three unforgivable sins in the eyes of conventional TV wisdom.

By understanding the mistakes OMITB doesn’t make, we can uncover the secret weapon behind its intoxicating blend of critical acclaim and audience devotion.

Prepare to see your favorite prestige dramas in a whole new, and perhaps less flattering, light.

Mistake #1: The Tyranny of the Plot

Most modern mysteries operate like a high-speed train, hurtling from one clue to the next with breakneck pacing.

The plot is the undisputed king, and character development is often just a scenic view you glimpse between tunnels.

This is the first unforgivable mistake OMITB elegantly sidesteps.

The show embraces a deliberate, ‘slow-burn’ pace that prioritizes the people over the puzzle.

Think about it: some of the show’s most beloved moments have nothing to do with the central murder.

We get entire sequences dedicated to Charles-Haden Savage mastering an omelet, Mabel Mora navigating the emotional minefield of a budding relationship, or Oliver Putnam’s undying, almost tragic, love for a dip.

These aren’t filler scenes; they are the foundation of the show’s soul.

By allowing its characters to breathe, bicker, and bond in ways unrelated to the case, the show builds an emotional investment that a dozen shocking reveals never could.

When the stakes are raised, we aren’t just worried about who did it; we are terrified for them.

The mystery becomes the backdrop against which a beautiful, chaotic, and deeply human portrait of loneliness and connection is painted.

This counter-intuitive choice to slow down is, ironically, what makes the show so utterly bingeable.

Mistake #2: The Somberness Trap

The second cardinal sin of television is genre purity, especially when it comes to something as serious as murder.

Conventional wisdom dictates that a show about death must be cloaked in a consistent tone of grim seriousness.

Humor, if present, should be the gallows variety—a wry, cynical whisper in the dark.

OMITB laughs directly in the face of this rule, and the result is pure magic.

The show is genuinely, laugh-out-loud funny, weaving sitcom-level hijinks seamlessly into its murderous frame.

From Oliver’s dramatic pronouncements about his failing director’s knees to Charles’s crippling social awkwardness, the humor is baked into the characters’ very beings.

But here’s the genius part: the comedy never undermines the stakes.

Instead, it elevates them.

The contrast between a silly argument about gut milk and the grim reality of their investigation creates a dizzying, realistic tonal whiplash.

Life, even in the shadow of tragedy, is not a monotonous dirge.

It is absurd, hilarious, and heartbreaking, often all at once.

By allowing its characters to be fully human—to crack jokes while hunting a killer—the show achieves a emotional verisimilitude that relentlessly somber shows can only dream of.

The laughter makes the moments of genuine fear and sadness land with a much heavier, more resonant impact.

Mistake #3: Ignoring the Audience in the Mirror

The final, and perhaps most brilliant, rule that OMITB breaks is its relationship with its audience.

Most shows exist in a vacuum, presenting a story for viewers to passively consume.

OMITB, however, holds up a mirror, and it’s not always a flattering one.

The show is packed with a sharp, self-aware meta-commentary on modern true-crime fandom.

Our trio are not just amateur detectives; they are fans.

They are literally us—people who consume murder as entertainment, who form parasocial relationships with victims and perpetrators, and who get a thrill from the puzzle of a life cut short.

The show doesn’t shy away from the inherent awkwardness and occasional moral bankruptcy of this position.

They monetize their podcast, they bicker about branding in the midst of an investigation, and they face direct criticism for turning tragedy into a hobby.

This meta-layer is not a separate gimmick; it’s woven directly into the narrative’s DNA.

It forces us, the viewers, to confront our own consumption habits.

Are we any different from Mabel, Charles, and Oliver, cozy on our couches, dissecting real-life cases from a safe distance?

By making this uncomfortable question central to the story, OMITB achieves a level of sophistication and relevance that transcends the confines of its genre.

The Reward for Breaking the Rules

So, what is the payoff for committing these three creative sins?

The answer is a show that feels less like a product and more like a living, breathing world.

By rejecting the tyranny of plot, OMITB gifts us with characters we’d happily watch even if there was no murder to solve.

By infusing genuine humor into its mystery, it creates a rich, unpredictable, and deeply human tone.

And by holding a mirror to true-crime culture, it engages in a conversation with its audience that extends far beyond the credits.

The next time you find yourself bored by a technically perfect but emotionally hollow thriller, you’ll know why.

It’s likely playing by all the rules.

And as “Only Murders in the Building” has so masterfully proven, sometimes the real magic lies in knowing exactly which ones to break.