Homicide took a different approach to cop shows, especially in these early episodes. Not only did the detectives not unholster their guns, but they really didn’t encounter mysteries in the traditional sense. These weren’t whodunits with shocking reveals; instead they focused more on the process and the motive. Detectives solved crimes through hard work and sometimes blind luck, not through amazing feats of intuition. The episodes were more often getting the suspects in The Box where they would be questioned. These scenes, full of riveting performances, were about human frailty and the nature of evil, not about establishing complex motives.
One particular episode stands out especially in this set. It’s not Season Two’s Emmy-winning “Bop Gun”, with a much talked-about Robin Williams performance. (Which, in all fairness, is one of the very few times where Williams was able to distinguish between “dramatic” and “mawkish”.) The real find is Season One’s “Three Men and Adena”. At the end of the very first episode, the squad gets a case about a murdered child (based on a real Baltimore unsolved murder). Newcome Tim Bayliss (Kyle Secor) takes the call and it pushes him to obsession – in fact, the murder of Adena Watson remains a motivating factor for Bayliss straight through to the final episode of the series. In this episode, Bayliss and mentor Frank Pembleton (Andre Braugher, in one of TV’s greatest roles of all time) keep the case’s prime suspect, a homeless junk dealer, in custody for the maximum allowable 12 hours to question him. The entire episode consists of two brilliant detectives using whatever methods they can devise to trick a confession out of an implacable old man. It’s absolutely riveting and wildly frustrating. At times, he seems to be so close to a confession that it feels like another second will change everything. It’s one of the finest episodes of anything, ever.
Watching these episodes, you won’t realize that you’re watching something that’s fifteen years old. Homicide was the first network TV series to use handheld cameras, a practice which is now common. The editors use now-favored techniques like jump cuts, and even showing the same scene from multiple angles. There are long musical interludes, an obvious precursor to the montages they use in every damn episode of Rescue Me. The only things that makes the series seem dated are the typewriters and lack of cell phones. Other than the technology angle, Homicide could air right now and fit in. Well, that and the pre-crack Daniel Baldwin.
Aside from the aforementioned Secor, a well-conceived viewer-identification character, and Braugher, who turns in a near-perfect performance in every episode, all kinds of fine actors, both veterans and newcomers, made the Baltimore Homicide Division their home. Long-time pros like Ned Beatty, Yaphet Kotto, and Jon Polito bring realism and dignity to their characters. Richard Belzer brings welcome comic relief as the sardonic John Munch, this being the first of the eight series in which Belzer has portrayed the character. (A role in which he introduced one of my favorite catchphrases: “Do I look like Montel Williams? Why are you trying to lie to me like I’m Montel Williams?”) Clark Johnson, best know at this point for providing the voice of the animated version of MC Hammer, is another standout as Meldrake Lewis, who gradually became the consistent moral center of the show. Johnson is better known as a talented director now, working on The Wire and The Shield, but he’s a fine actor as well. His scenes with Polito especially are fantastic. Melissa Leo appears as one of the most interesting female characters of the decade, Detective Kay Ballard. With guest-stars like Edie Falco and Chris Tergesen, every episode is full of outstanding performances. Homicide raised the bar for television drama during its run.
It’s not light viewing, by any means. The spiritual foundations of Oz and The Wire are definitely in evidence, and the view of humanity is bleak indeed. But that just makes the moments of pure goodness that much more precious. “Night of the Dead Living” has a few scenes that are just beautiful, whether finding a baby’s mother, hijinks with a hose, and a simple scene involving a mystery candle. As much time as Homicide spends mucking around with the worst of humanity, it also lets us see the good things that can come from flawed people.
All seven seasons of Homicide are highly recommended, despite a noticeable (though not crippling) dropoff in the final season. Still, this first set is an absolute revelation. Anybody who cares about television as a legitimately artistic medium owes it to themselves to get acquainted with Homicide.
And besides, Who Needs Fresh Air?
