National Post (National Edition)
Magnum P.I. remains eminently re-watchable because it is always more satisfying to watch a character with moral certitude be faced with an ethical quandary than to watch a morally compromised protagonist flip-flop between good and evil.
Why Magnum, P.I. is better than your favourite prestige TV series Mallory Andrews
To take care of his loved ones, a milquetoast family man suddenly finds himself on the wrong of the law.
Even the most ardent TV fan could be forgiven for thinking this hypothetical logline is describing the critically-acclaimed crime drama Breaking Bad. But it also fits the bill for Ozark, a Netflix Original series that is ostensibly a re-skinned version of the AMC series – right down to the casting of a former sitcom dad as a morally ambiguous patriarch.
These kinds of middle-of-the-road versions of critically lauded classics have proliferated in the post- “It’s Not TV It’s HBO” -era, poorly replicating the tropes established by the likes of The Sopranos or The Wire: anti-heroes, extreme serialization that caters to binge-watching and (increasingly) the promise of unpredictable plot twists.
But the problem with unpredictability as a trope is that it becomes predictable, and predictable unpredictability has a short shelf life. One only need watch the pilot of Ozark to get the gist of what will go down. When a Chicago financial advisor (Jason Bateman) gets caught up in a failed money-laundering plot with a drug cartel, he relocates his family to Missouri in a last-ditch attempt to appease his debtors. Surely he will compromise his ethics multiple times over in the name of protecting his family, and surely that will come at a great personal cost. Yawn.
Prestige TV has become the Pulp Fiction of television: however great the original iteration may be, the flood of subpar imitators that have cropped up in its wake almost make the original not worth it. Ozark is but a single example, one could easily sub in Netflix’s other dark family drama Bloodline or Showtime’s Ray Donovan, or any number of current network programming that have been influenced by cable TV’s narrative edginess. They’re all iterations of the same slick-yet-bland drama that are more concerned with recreating a gritty tone than coming up with an intriguing concept or characters that can sustain multiple seasons.
The long-term effect is that these shows will likely age more poorly than shows from a previous era of television. While the twists of Ozark may have been thrilling to some – it was, apparently, the most streamed show of the summer – that initial rush has diminishing returns. Exhausted by the demands of following such convoluted and ultra-serious season-long arcs, I’ve lately found myself valuing the kind of shows that don’t require such hyper-focused engagement; where the pleasures lie in spending time with characters rather than following a rigorously plotted story.
I’ve discovered a new love for Magnum, P.I., a Honolulu-set detective series that ran from 1980 to 1988 on CBS and made Tom Selleck a household name.
An average episode of Magnum, P.I. follows a fairly standard formula. In between rounds of verbally sparring with Higgins (played by the late John Hillerman), the majordomo of the mansion where Magnum is hired as head of security and palling around with friends and collaborators T.C. (Roger E. Mosley) and Rick (Larry Manetti), Thomas Magnum (Selleck) is hired as a private investigator by the guest-star of the week. Cases run the gamut from finding missing persons, solving murders that have left the local cops stumped, or, (as in the third season episode “Mixed Doubles”) protecting a haughty tennis prodigy from anonymous threats made to her life. Most episodes will contain either a lengthy helicopter sequence or Magnum giving chase to the bad guys in a red Ferrari. There will always be Hawaiian shirts and shorts baring our hero’s hirsute thighs.
Magnum, P.I.’s particular milieu, tone, and fashion sense will always situate it squarely in the 1980s. But it remains eminently re-watchable because it is always more satisfying to watch a character with moral certitude be faced with an ethical quandary than to watch a morally compromised protagonist flip-flop between good and evil. The former has clear motivations and convictions, while the latter, especially if poorly written, runs the risk of making seemingly random decisions for no other reason than to maintain the patina of ambiguity. Which isn’t to say that Magnum has never acted against his own moral code – many episodes during the show’s eight season run draw upon his past experiences as a Vietnam veteran and deal with this exact dilemma. But because of the character’s overall consistency, it carries far more weight when he decides to do so than it would if he were the sort of anti-hero celebrated by prestige TV and its progeny.
But most of all, from the bombastic opening riff of the iconic theme song to the comfortable certainty that Magnum will always get his man, Magnum, P.I. is fun – which a slog like Ozark (and all of the prestige television imitators) could never aspire to be.