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Sunday, Nov 8, 2009
Melodramatic and ill-conceived, "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" is so bad, it's a crime.
Oct 18, 1999 | "Law & Order" is an efficient and hard-boiled police procedural if ever there was one. With a half-hour allotted to perp-catching and a half-hour allotted to the swift prosecution of cases, "L&O" barely has time for characters to catch their breath, never mind search their souls. Compared to the operatic emotionalism of "NYPD Blue" and the Dylanesque vision that was "Homicide: Life on the Street," "Law & Order" is a Woody Guthrie folk song -- plain, terse and packing a wallop.
How to describe, then, the tear-jerking bombast and in-your-face confessionalism of its woeful spin-off, "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit"? Imagine Celine Dion duetting with Paula Cole -- cranked up to 11.
Sure, it looks like "Law & Order" -- same opening credits, same theme song, same clanging cell door sound effect at the top of every scene, weekly cameos from "Law & Order" regulars like Jerry "Briscoe" Orbach and Angie "Carmichael" Harmon. But it doesn't feel like "Law & Order." It's melodramatic and manipulative, splattered with awkward attempts at comedy and lacking in the original's cool dignity. The cases (daddy-daughter incest, Bosnian war crime rapes, the serial killing of prostitutes) aren't necessarily seamier than the ones that turn up on "Law & Order," but the treatment of them is flashier, grabbier.
Worst of all, "L&O: SVU" violates the first law of "Law & Order" -- it shifts the focus from the process of police work to the personal lives of cops. I mean, it has taken viewers years to glean background information about the characters on "Law & Order"; they reveal tidbits of opinions and problems on the fly, while they go about their business. But, already, a scant month after its debut, we know much, much more than we need to about the sex crime detectives of "L&O: SVU."
Det. Olivia Benson (Mariska Hargitay) was conceived during a rape (we learned that in episode one), which, I guess, is supposed to explain why she seems to have trouble maintaining a professional reserve -- one minute, she's crying empathetic tears, the next, she's going off at suspects like a loose cannon. Capt. Donald Cragen (Dann Florek), a "Law & Order" castoff welcomed back into the fold here, has had a drinking problem ever since his wife died in a plane crash (tearful explanation, episode two). Det. Elliot Stabler (Chris Meloni) has adolescent daughters at home; being on this beat and seeing dead, raped girls turn up every day gives him plenty to worry about. How can he protect his girls' innocence if, indeed, they're still innocent? "L&O:SVU" makes you yearn for the original, where cops punch in, punch out and somehow manage to refrain from weeping at their desks late into the night.
All of this jacked-up melodrama is surrounded by "Homicide"-wannabe flourishes, like jarring shots of crime scenes and autopsy tables and (not quite clever enough) breezy cop sarcasm. The result is a show that's simultaneously soggy and crisp -- not an appealing combination however you slice it. "L&O: SVU" also has one of TV's most bizarre -- and not in a good way -- ensemble casts ever. Meloni, who had memorable guest roles on "NYPD Blue" and "Homicide" and is also on HBO's prison drama "Oz," is an undeniable star. He looks like a young Robert De Niro and he has De Niro's whispery voice and his unsettling, unhinged glimmer about the eyes -- which is why it's really, really hard to accept Meloni's character as a nice, normal, devoted, suburban family man. Still, Meloni is the single reason to keep watching "L&O: SVU" -- if only for the episode, maybe a season down the road, where Elliot Stabler snaps and turns into Kevin Spacey in "American Beauty."
Adding to the overall sense of woozy displacement you get watching "L&O: SVU" is the fact that Meloni is joined here by his fellow cast-mate from "Oz," Dean Winters. What night is it? What am I watching? A bad-ass thug on "Oz," Winters is wasted as comic relief on "L&O"; he plays Det. Brian Cassidy, who's new on the squad and a bit of a dunce. He has a hard time keeping all the sex crime terminology straight. He says "fromage" when he means "frottage." Stranger still is Richard Belzer reprising his eccentric "Homicide" character, Det. John Munch. What's a member of the Baltimore murder po-lice doing on a sex crimes squad in New York City (besides the obvious fact that his old show was canceled)? In the "L&O: SVU" pilot, Munch explained that he fled Baltimore after his bride, Billie Lou, ran off with his fellow detective, Stu Gharty. Munch has vowed never to set foot in Charm City again.
On "Homicide," it never seemed to make much sense, Munch being a cop; he was an ex-hippie, an old anti-war protestor who enjoyed his weed. But, for a long time, Munch was an integral element of "Homicide," providing a dash of old-fashioned liberal conscience and a pinch of Jewish soul. Toward the end of the show's run, though, Munch was spouting monologues, not dialogue; Belzer simply stood around doing his government-conspiracy-rant stand-up act, whether anybody was listening or not. And this is the past-sell-date Munch we get on "L&O:SVU." Belzer serves up the hipster ravings, but nobody here is volleying; they just look at him like he's nuts.
Belzer has already played Munch on an episode of "The X-Files" and on two "Law & Order"/"Homicide" crossovers; he's also reportedly going to guest star as Munch on "Homicide" producer Tom Fontana's upcoming UPN cop series, "The Beat," and in a "Homicide" TV movie planned for next spring (guess Munch will have to recant his vow never to return to Baltimore). As a "Homicide" fan, I'm finding it just a wee bit painful to watch Belzer become the equivalent of Fat Elvis, hauling out the white jumpsuit that is John Munch again and again and again. Let it go, Belzer, for the love of God! Munch serves no discernible purpose, cop-wise, on "L&O:SVU" -- so far, his duties seem limited to fetching donuts and baby sitting Det. Cassidy. Munch has become a cartoon character in search of a frame. Tucked away at his desk in the corner, babbling about JFK and the grassy knoll, he's devoid of context, time, place, meaning. He's like one of those living, disembodied celebrity heads in a jar on "Futurama." Uh-oh, I see another guest spot coming ...
