Michael Hayes (1997) s01e04 – The Doctor’s Tale

I’d forgotten how once upon a time the evils of liberal Hollywood meant trying to warn how for-profit healthcare in the United States was a terrible thing and now we’re twenty years on and it’s even worse. It’s such a lovely combination of distressing and depressing.

This episode opens with governor’s goon Gregg Henry (who’s such a perfect sleaze ball) coming to David Caruso’s office to get him to sign off on a letter saying the corrupt healthcare company the state is going into business with isn’t corrupt. Caruso won’t sign it because he’s not corrupt, he’s the only good white guy, leading Henry to whine to Peter Outerbridge about it, which doesn’t end up giving Outerbridge anything to do in the episode because while Outerbridge isn’t a bad guy, he’s not a good guy.

Only Caruso’s a good guy; it’s a lot of weight to carry but Caruso’s really good at it. This episode’s the smoothest so far; I’d been worried about it because Peter Weller’s back directing and he tried very hard to be hip with his previous episode but seems to have figured out his 4:3 composition by this one. And Roger Neill’s music is better than it’s ever been, so much so it’s surprising. It’s delicate at times.

The Doctor in the title refers to guest star Patricia Kalember, who’s going to have to be Caruso’s star witness against the insurance company whether she or Caruso like it. Allen Garfield is the slime bag attorney for the insurance company—the difference between Henry’s sleaze ball and Garfield’s slime bag is Garfield’s got greasy hair and a ponytail you wish Caruso would’ve cut off after their showdown—and he’s going to ruin Kalember’s life and Caruso’s case. Kalember tried to get some tests done, the insurance company denied them, little boy is now dying faster from leukemia. There’s actually a lot of character development for Caruso in the episode as he finds further resolve—he thought he could just wing it on his Irish male pride (this episode’s the first time they mention the Irish… impressive patience)—but the show can’t quite address it.

Garfield’s media takedown of Kalember only works because of sexism and misogyny and it only works on Caruso because of sexism and misogyny, so when he gets through it—because “Hayes” is a show written by dudes in the nineties—it hinges on a revelation about Kalember’s character. Her character’s character. They emphasize it as a “eureka” moment—desperate even with the best acting—but do at least give Caruso a good solo contemplation scene to work his way through it. More problematic is probably Rebecca Rigg’s embrace of the takedown, though there’s nothing like realizing she couldn’t just be super smart, she also had to be super smart and wear short skirts.

Rigg is the best lawyer at the U.S. Attorney’s office, something Philip Baker Hall (who’s got one scene to manipulatively inspire Caruso against the blue bloods) didn’t appreciate. This episode is Caruso and Rigg trying to work out the case, Caruso and Kalember not bonding but being stuck in the life raft together, and everyone else is background. Hillary Danner helps with the case but not significantly, Ruben Santiago-Hudson interviews a witness and tells a couple jokes (somewhat problematically since it’s a demotion—Santiago-Hudson’s much better with this material), and Mary B. Ward shows up for a single scene—in an apartment instead of the established house they’d been living in—to pretend the family plot line is essential. They even rush the talk about Ward’s terrible marriage to Caruso’s good for nothing brother.

Yet, even with Kalember being good with a “good for a guest star on a primetime drama” asterisk, it’s the best episode yet. There’s a really good balance between the lawyer stuff and emphasizing the actors—Caruso, Rigg, and Kalember—and it works. Weller having a better handle on his composition helps immensely.

I can’t decide if it’d be better or worse if they finally just let Caruso punch out one of the blue blood crooks instead of just silently judging them. Again, Caruso’s good at the righteous judgement and “Michael Hayes” does have enough tone problems already so maybe it’s time to trust Paul Haggis.

Never thought I’d type those words again. But it’s getting to where—with the nineties primetime drama asterisk—“Michael Hayes” is good.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e01 – Prequel

This episode of “Michael Hayes” isn’t on IMDb. It’s been a while since I’ve watched something not on IMDb. Something made in the 1990s and airing on one of the Big Three networks? I don’t even know. What’s amusing is the New York Times review of the episode is a top Google result.

So this episode’s called Prequel because—and I’m going off twenty-plus year old memory—the pilot episode wasn’t as impressive as the other stuff the series did. They brought in Paul Haggis (post-“EZ Streets”, pre-everything else) because it turned out having Nicholas Pileggi (who co-created) without Scorsese doesn’t really work out. Haggis came in and fixed it up post-pilot, so then they made an episode to be a better pilot than the one CBS ordered off.

The show’s a working class white male savior story about ex-New York cop (an “NYPD Blue,” if you would) David Caruso who goes to night school and becomes a prosecutor and then a U.S. State’s Attorney. There’s a lot to date “Michael Hayes.” It’s pre-9/11, which doesn’t just mean World Trade Center in New York skyline shots, but an attitude about the gee whiz Mayberry take on federal law enforcement; they need Caruso because he’s going to yell at people and coerce testimony. But he’s going to be doing it for the right reasons and even a gruff old guy like Philip Baker Hall isn’t actually tough enough to confront mobsters about being criminals. Certainly smarmy blue blood Peter Outerbridge isn’t going to do it. Plus, if Caruso’s not around, who’s going to acknowledge the existence of the occasional Black guys. Again, late nineties TV—especially CBS—has a lot of aging problems.

I think someone says “asshole” to show it’s grown up, but the plot is Caruso’s mad fellow U.S. Attorney Outerbridge made a deal with mobster Leo Rossi (who’s terrible because Leo Rossi is always terrible). Rossi had to confess to all his crimes for immunity and threw in a cold case of Caruso’s, a dead teenage girl. Only Rossi says she was a hooker so Caruso’s incensed. The episode opens with a very iffy flashback to the original crime scene, which actually has Caruso prototyping his “CSI: Miami” role, only while pretending it’s “NYPD Blue” and director Peter Weller wishing he was doing “Homicide.”

But Caruso and his old partner, Scott Lawrence, are going to prove she wasn’t a hooker and therefor not deserving of being murdered. Caruso puts his current investigator (and, awkwardly, driver) Ruben Santiago-Hudson on the case too. Lawrence and Santiago-Hudson are the Black guys. They don’t interact with anyone else except Caruso. I’ve been wanting to go back to “Michael Hayes” for literal decades, but there have been availability issues—I have a long story involving an SVHS recorder too—but it hadn’t occurred to me I was going to see seeds of Crash in it.

The show’s very carefully coding Caruso as progressive, just, and empathetic. During the show down scene with Outerbridge, you wish Caruso would punch him in the face because Outerbridge is clearly a Brett Kavanaugh. Not much would beat a progressive, just, empathetic working class white male savior popping Brett Kavanaugh in the face. It’s like if Clint Eastwood did a last minute righteous man left turn with an Aaron Sorkin script.

Sadly, there’s no punch, just normal (well, for Caruso) righteous seething rage from Caruso.

There are a lot of scenes in this episode where it’s clear better direction would’ve changed everything. Weller’s bad at the 4:3 frame, but the hip late nineties tone of the show is worse. It’s not grim and gritty because it’s so far pre-“Wire” and even “SVU.” Grim and gritty hadn’t won yet. But writers Paul Haggis and Paul Romano know they can get great film noir out-liners from Caruso—and they really try with Santiago-Hudson and I hope he gets better—so you’ve got this kind of CBS Tupperware bland but edgy but not actually. If cinematographer James L. Carter and editor Daniel Valverde are capable of inventive work, it would come as a surprise after seeing these forty minutes. Again, of course, it’s mid-to-late nineties TV. It’s pre-HD, it’s pre-16:9. The asshole kind of grown-up hour long American TV show is a literal neanderthal of genres and “Hayes” is a startling reminder of that fate. When TV stopped being such an easy pejorative… it wasn’t because this kind of show evolved enough. You’re still hunting and picking for good performances, hoping they won’t cut away too fast or maybe, just maybe, they won’t go to a close-up and miss the far more important reaction shot.

“Hayes” tries some a lot of the time with the procedural stuff. There’s an effort. But the show also takes some effort to overlook how blandly energetic television can get. “Hayes” is trying to be “NYPD Blue” without the butts or boobies but also CBS but also higher brow. Oh, it’s pre-“West Wing” too. It’s at the end of an age and not going to be remembered in the next.

But Caruso’s good. Like, he’s tolerable during his worst scenes and he finds great little moments in the rest. The mise-en-scene (lol) of the show works against him, but he’s good. Ditto Rebecca Rigg as a brilliant U.S. Attorney who knows the law better than anyone else but in career hell for stepping on toes. And the stuff with Caruso and subordinate Hillary Danner; Danner’s expecting him to be a sexist jerk but he’s not because he’s progressive, just, and empathetic.

Jury’s out on every other regular cast member, including Caruso’s entire family situation—about-to-be-released-convict little brother David Cubitt, his suffering wife Mary B. Ward, and their adorable son Jimmy Galeota, who looks up to Caruso.

The episode also does this echoing hugging thing where you know someone was trying to do an Al Pacino Heat beat and Weller missed it both times because he and Carter are so bad at shot composition. Though the nineties pop bop grit synth music from Mark Isham and Roger Neill is terrible.

I remember having to stick with “Michael Hayes” for it to prove itself and I feel fairly comfortable assuming that assessment stands twenty-four years later.

Fairly… comfortable. The nineties were bad. We shall see.