BOB HART OUT OF THE BOX

Herald Sun - Switched On - - Wednesday -

DETROIT 1-8-7 is one of those lo­ca­tion-driven Amer­i­can cop op­eras that in­fest our screens and, oc­ca­sion­ally, can be di­vert­ing.

But the lo­ca­tion here is Detroit — a trou­bled city which, in the blink of a lazy eye, has gone from be­ing the source of great pop mu­sic and won­der­fully ridicu­lous cars to a de­cay­ing shadow of the Michi­gan me­trop­o­lis once was.

When a se­ries is set in LA, the cast have per­fect teeth and are im­pec­ca­bly buffed. Crimes start with a fa­mous film ac­tor/pro­ducer/di­rec­tor be­ing drowned in his/her pool or pres­sure­cooked in his/her sauna.

In New York, the cops wear Ital­ian suits, drive shiny black cars and are ei­ther hard men with hearts of gold called Vin­nie, or met­ro­sex­u­als who

it know karate. While in Mi­ami sun­glasses are worn, shirts are flo­ral and there is at least one drug deal go­ing down, one Cuban or Columbian vil­lain in play, and one glimpse of an al­li­ga­tor in ev­ery episode.

But in Detroit? If al­li­ga­tors had ever lived in the sew­ers here, the lo­cals would have eaten them. Crimes, such as the mur­der/at­tempted mur­der that opens this episode, un­fold on empty lots, in dark lane-

Dark: Michael Im­pe­ri­oli

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