Written by Noel Behn;
story by Tom Fontana and Noel Behn
Directed by John
McNaughton
In Homicide’s
early seasons (particularly in
season 1’s ‘Night of the Dead Living’) we learned something very important
about the show: police work can be dull. It’s not car cases and gun pulling, a
lot of it is dull paperwork and drudgery routine. Even when you are involved in
a case to arrest a man who has committed ten murders, there is a lot of hard,
meaningless work.
A prime example of this occurs in
‘Stakeout’. In the space of twenty four hours we find the identity of a serial killer from one
of the thickest criminals on the show. Arrested for narcotic possession and
stolen property, he confesses that he was involved with ten murders. Her thinks
that because he didn’t actually kill any of the victims he is less liable which
proves as Bayliss puts it ‘Crime makes you stupid” The killer is en route from
a trip back to Baltimore, so the Homicide unit sets up a stakeout in the house
next door.
So two detectives go there. And they wait.
Three hours later the shift changes.
And they wait.
Every three hours, they change partners
until twenty-four hours later when the killer is arrested in his driveway
without incident. During the course of that time, they identify several of the
dead bodies, arrest an accomplice who agrees to testify against the killer and
build-up an air-tight case. So the investigation is actually the least
interesting part of the show.
What makes ‘Stakeout’ one of the highlights
of the season is the emotional baggage that some of the detectives are carrying
and that they unload while they try to
pass the time. Part of this is expressed very well in the characters of
George and Cathy Buxton, the people who own the house the detectives are using
for surveillance. During the stakeout, the Buxtons argue, the husband storms
out to get drunk, make love and return to normal. It becomes very clear that this marriage is built on
a very shaky foundation and that their lives are barely hanging
together. Every few hours, when the detectives shift, the Buxton keep reciting
and recounting previous events to tell them what they have missed. In other
words, their marriage unfolds like something on television. In a similar
matter, the detectives past unfolds before us. (It's also interesting noting who the actors
are: Jim True, so early in his career, he has not hyphenated his name the way
he would when he would when he joined The
Wire, and Kate Walsh, with a blond hairdo, nearly a decade before she would
join the world of Shonda Rhimes as Addison Montgomery.)
This is impressive because Homicide demonstrates, unlike many TV
shows that it has a long memory. The characters aren’t reinvented every
episode, they have a past and some of them are still living with it. Some of the scars are minor. Kellerman is
upset that he is still regarded on his shift as ‘the new guy’. Russert is
bothered by her double demotion. Munch is upset that Bolander has not made any
effort to make contact with his former partner since his suspension began.
Others are more serious. Lewis, for
example, is still aching over Crosetti
killing himself two years ago. That his
partner took his own lie without even trying to ask for help pains him.
Giardello is upset because he may miss his flight to his daughter Charisse’s
wedding. However, it becomes clear that he is more upset about the fact that
his daughter made a decision to marry a man and fly off to San Francisco without asking for his permission or
his blessing. Eventually when he does finally decide to go, he finds out that
his flight has been delayed by fog. It is stunning to see the pillar of the Homicide
unit paralyzed and afraid of what should be a joyful experience.
But, as is usually the case, Bayliss is in
the most pain. For the first time, he is talking openly about quitting
Homicide. Nor is this just a case of burnout which would be understandable. As
we find out, Risley Tucker, the lead suspect in the Adena Watson murder three
years ago has died and Tim is trying to face the fact that this case will now
forever be in red. He is tired of having to give the news to a grieving
relative that someone they love is dead.
He is tired of Frank’s treating him like he was a doormat. And he is tired of
having spent three years in the squad but still barely knowing any of the
people he works with him.
Frank is disturbed by this but as is almost
always the case he brings him back. Homicide is like a family--- not the Cleavers or the Osmonds, but a real
family—opinionated, troubled, challenging each other. They speak for those who
can no longer speak for themselves and Tim is going to find it anywhere else.
This doesn’t resolves all of Bayliss’ problems, of course, but it is enough to
make him rethink leaving the squad.
‘Stakeout’ is an impressive hour of
television. A near perfect mixture of the old and the new, it is ideal for
introducing a new viewer to the show’s charms, revisiting the great strengths
and flaws of the characters and showing how Homicide
can really, really sing sometimes. It remains one of my favorite episodes.
My score: 5 stars.
No comments:
Post a Comment