Michael Hayes (1997) s01e09 – Slaves

I wasn’t looking forward to this episode. “Michael Hayes” has been struggling the last couple and it was never on firm grounding to begin with. Then the opening title sequence hit and… the rest of the legal team actors’ names were in it. Episode nine is where Hillary Danner, Rebecca Rigg, and Peter Outerbridge get added as regulars. But then I saw the first guest star—Lucy Alexis Liu—and all of a sudden I remembered; I have one cogent memory of “Michael Hayes” and this episode was going to contain it. I remembered more along the way—Jodi Long’s so good and the scene’s such a “thank goodness” (she’s calling out white people’s savior complex in general, lead David Caruso as a specific example, while also addressing the efficacy of having biased white “experts” talking about the Chinese immigrant experience). It works out; my cogent memory is validated and the show is all of a sudden on completely different footing. Script credit to Anne Kenney and Paul Haggis.

The episode starts with Caruso addressing a bunch of cops about to raid a “house of prostitution.” Only, Caruso (and Kenney and Haggis) explain, it’s not a regular house of prostitution because the women are being held captive; they’re Chinese immigrants, in the country without visas—I’d forgotten how often the term “illegal aliens” got thrown around in mainstream media, even when there’s a whole thing about the system being inhumane and shitty—and they’re chained to the floor. 1997 is apparently before “human trafficking” entered Hollywood’s vernacular; it’s also back when you could have someone like Caruso say “America doesn’t do slavery” with a straight face.

The raid goes bad and Caruso and team are left with two potential witnesses—Liu and Jeanne Chinn—against a seemingly upstanding businessman suspect, Michael Paul Chan. Liu’s a good girl, Chinn’s a bad girl, but neither of them are receptive to Caruso’s questioning because he can’t keep them in the country. John Prosky shows up (again, I think) as a dipshit INS agent (it’s not his fault, it’s just the agency itself is shit is the message), with a chunk of the plot dedicated to Caruso and Outerbridge trying to figure out how to get him to grant refugee visas.

The procedural aspects, with Rigg and Ruben Santiago-Hudson (demoted in the credit order due to everyone but Caruso being alphabetical and three names getting added, but still a solid part) doing field work are good. Mostly thanks to the script, but also Adam Nimoy’s direction is the best the show’s had either ever or in memory. Also, Rigg’s a hoot out in the field, a self-aware brassy sitcom neighbor but as a meticulous lawyer; Rigg’s always working the character, even when she’s in background; the mind is racing. She’s awesome to watch, a great foil for Caruso, who’s doing the same thing.

But where the episode excels in the character arc for Caruso (and Liu). Without a lot of exposition setting it up—any exposition setting it up, actually—the episode essays Caruso’s emotional reaction to Liu and Chinn—Chinn’s a caricature for most of her time in the episode, but when that barrier cracks, it’s very much because of Caruso’s performance. It’s in the script and Chinn’s close to leveling up on her own, but Caruso—problematically, to be sure—is what makes it happen. “Michael Hayes” is about a white savior who just happens to be white. They wouldn’t be able to get away with any of it without Caruso, whose ability to toggle between loud and quiet is unsurpassed.

Except Chinn’s the bad girl who’s a (relatively) easy flip. There’s a lot more with Liu, as Caruso tries to crack her as a witness, then forms a bond with her. Unlike the Chinn stuff, Liu and Caruso’s arc succeeds because of Liu. Their scenes are all about the performances, because it’s all talk, sometimes about legal citizenship stuff, sometimes about aspirational Americana stuff, and the drama has to come out of the characters speaking to and reacting to one another. No wonder I remember loving this show.

No sign of other still regular cast members Mary B. Ward and Jimmy Galeota—I think they may have even taken Galeota’s picture out of Caruso’s office—and the show’s… better for it. Much better for it. Even with Danner not really having enough to do and Outerbridge still just being a blue blood stick in the mud, the team procedural dynamic succeeds.

I’m not sure what to expect from “Hayes” going forward and this episode might very well be its peak, but it’s a good peak. Even though it’s a CBS show by white people for white people from 1997, it ages all right. Kenney and Haggis are at least aware of that situation and try (well, not with the title but Haggis did end up making Crash, didn’t he). And Caruso and Liu are spectacular together, which is what matters. The episode is all theirs.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e07 – Radio Killer

This episode is about a proto-Alex Jones (a just okay Daniel von Bargen) who incites one of his listeners to kill an ATF agent as payback for Waco (back when the sovereign citizens weren’t running government agencies) and the good guys having to figure out how they can get von Bargen for murder. It’s the first trial episode of “Michael Hayes” and it is not a good trial sequence. Not even for 1997. At some point David Caruso just starts doing a full Al Pacino with recurring judge Esther Scott yelling at him to knock it off for way too long. Scott’s not good this episode, which is too bad, because it’s entirely the script’s fault.

Of course John Romano gets half the script credit—I mean, Kelly Rowan shows up needlessly as the FBI agent who last time had the hots for a disinterested Caruso and this time seems to have read the room, but she has nothing important to do in the narrative. Other Romano script regular feature—Ruben Santiago-Hudson getting bad material—gets averted; Santiago-Hudson just doesn’t get much to do. Well, Caruso still has to tell him obvious things to do about his job (Santiago-Hudson was going to ignore Internet-based von Bargen fan clubs, Caruso has to tell him to actually investigate them). What ought to be Santiago-Hudson’s material gets shifted over to Rowan, but then there’s the added benefit of Rowan getting to team up with Rebecca Rigg. Caruso is letting Rigg run with the case—much to Peter Outerbridge’s dismay—which leads to some good acting through weak material for Rigg and some profound Bechdel fails.

Especially since Rigg ends up getting her real U.S. Attorney through witness manipulation and so on. The show’s very careful to demonize rich evil bigots (von Bargen and his cracker caricature lawyer Ben Jones) while patronizing poor dumb bigots (the killer’s girlfriend Boti Bliss). It’s a fine line, because Caruso’s ostensibly got his righteous white savior, Irish Catholic anger thing going on (hence getting away with yelling in court and ignoring Black woman judge Scott). There’s also the additional factor history’s proven “Hayes” right to some terrifying degree; the people in the nineties who were worried about potentially riled up domestic terrorists were not wrong, after all. Hearing the FBI worry about white supremacists—in the late nineties—is one heck of a “oh, the good old days.”

Unfortunately, thanks to Ashford and Romano not being very good at what they’re trying to do—though, again, to be fair, it’s CBS and it’s 1997, there weren’t that many possibilities—but it comes off like a sensationalized, exploitative liberal scaremongering about working poor non-college educated whites. It just happens to be correct, just from a time when it’s possible it wouldn’t end up being correct. See, if it were well-written, it’d age great.

Anyway, while Caruso’s letting Rigg do all the hard work so he can do the yelling in court, there’s a subplot about his brother, David Cubitt, getting involved with organized crime. Caruso tries to talk to him about it, Cubitt just wants to talk about Caruso’s great unrequited romance with Mary B. Ward (Cubitt’s suffering wife). Only Caruso and Ward have very mild chemistry, certainly not romantic, not even when they slow dance; it’s still more than Cubitt musters with anyone so I guess it’s a valid concern. It’s just this nonsense leftover from the pilot.

It’s a rollercoaster of a character arc for Rigg and she gets through it; it’s unclear if it’ll add up to anything going forward. But it’s pretty clear Romano-credited episodes of “Hayes” are going to continue to wildly disappoint. Though it’s the best Caruso’s been so far with patently bad material.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e06 – Heroes

Paul Haggis has a co-writer credit on the script, which seems to mean—among other things—Hillary Danner is going to get some things to do and Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s going to be good because the writing for him is better. Santiago-Hudson has less to do than last episode, when the writing wasn’t Haggis and was bad, but he’s much better while doing the less. Though the scene where he teases David Caruso about going on a date is weird. Danner’s part is to go off, do work, find results, bring them to Caruso, which ends up being better than Rebecca Rigg, who just sits around with Caruso and spit-balls because she’s the only person smarter than him.

The episode’s a riff on Ransom (the remake not original) with dirtbag FBI agent (dirtbag even for FBI agent, also note how much they code him as working class) Larry Joshua maybe or maybe not framing mail carrier Brad William Henke for a kidnapping of a child. Henke says he rescued the kid on his route, Joshua says he grabbed him and let him go. Henke and his lawyer—a fantastic Amy Aquino—are suing for ten million; Caruso and company are stuck defending Joshua.

The episode doesn’t go full kidnapped child exploitative with the original case, instead contriving a reason to put Caruso’s nephew—Jimmy Galeota, who’s his regular medium grade annoying, nothing more, nothing less—in danger of a child predator. It also tries to show Caruso as the most progressive one in the office about Joshua being a bad cop, though if he’s guilty and Henke’s completely innocent and a real hero, it’s wrong Henke wants damages. Vindication fine; damages no. It’s also unclear what’s supposed to happen to Joshua other than Caruso not having to deal with him. The show’s maybe two steps away from being at least somewhat self-aware. There are a lot of “it was still the nineties” caveats, though it would’ve certainly been better on dirtbag FBI agents than TV would be for years to come. It’s pre-9/11, after all.

Galeota’s got a subplot about loan sharks showing up looking for dad David Cubitt, who shows up for a couple scenes for the first time in a while. Mary B. Ward’s got a couple too. Nothing much of consequence happens in either of them, except Caruso letting Cubitt commit three or four crimes in his effort to be a better bad. There’s a magical bad dad toxic masculinity scene where Cubitt implies Galeota’s pride in him is why he’s got to be a criminal and put he and Ward in danger from aforementioned loan sharks.

The script’s a little more sensational and less procedural than it ought to be—its issues are fundamental—but it’s a decent episode. Caruso’s quite good most of the time, especially in his reactions (somewhere the script’s also strong). Even if some of his reactions are reactionary. And Joshua’s a very effective antagonist guest star, which is more important than him being good in an impossible—for numerous reasons—part.

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) s01e03 – True Blue

So, given the episode uses footage from the pilot—the pilot, not the “Prequel” episode they made after they brought on Paul Haggis to save the show, but the original, Haggis-less pilot—to kill off Dina Meyer, who was in stable condition after being shot last episode… it makes sense she’d be less than interested in coming back in that pilot do-over. Even though it turns out she and David Caruso were dating long enough for him to be her sole beneficiary on her life insurance—also, holy crap, it’s a Robert Musgrave cameo because someone on “Michael Hayes” loved Bottle Rocket, or so I’m telling myself.

Caruso spends the episode sad about Meyer’s death and talking around it with various cast members because he’s a soulful white man but he’s a man and he’s just going to stare off into space and then leave the room whenever anyone asks if he’s feeling okay. Caruso’s really good at it. He’s excellent the entire episode—a nice change from last time—even during expository dumps (so long as you can embrace the righteous white male savior) and the rest of the cast does a good job keeping pace. Except Ruben Santiago-Hudson, whose single expression is really getting in the way of his performance. Santiago-Hudson gets looped even when he really shouldn’t, like when wife Tembi Locke explains he can’t turn in dirty cop Julio Oscar Mechoso because Mechoso’s got a wife and three kids (just like they do).

We’ve already heard from the New York District Attorney Stanley Anderson (sadly not a visible Rudy analog) you can’t go after dirty cops because then all of the cases they perjured themselves in will get overturned and an occasional criminal will go free with all the people they framed and then what’ll you do; the episode does an excellent job laying out the nonsense excuses for police corruption, which is just the cops just robbing people—including stores—not murdering or raping anyone because even “liberal” Hollywood didn’t realize how it was always the worst.

The episode’s about Caruso having to take down a dirty precinct because D.A. Anderson too chummy with assistant police commissioner Dan Lauria to do anything about police corruption. While Lauria’s a fine cameo, the episode neglects to acknowledge they killed off the actual police commissioner last episode, who was also entirely corrupt so maybe the problem doesn’t start at the bottom. Former cop now U.S. Attorney investigator Santiago-Hudson goes to pal Mechoso for help, only to soon find out Mechoso’s not being truthful about his lack of involvement. Meanwhile, Caruso’s got to break the case while mourning for Meyer and dealing with his family troubles. Recently released ex-con brother David Cubitt still hasn’t gone to see wife Mary B. Ward or son Jimmy Galeota; Ward shows up at Caruso’s doorstep, expecting Cubitt to be there too (Cubitt’s crashing at Caruso’s apartment, which is far less ginormous than in the pilot episode). Only Cubitt’s not so she and Caruso hang out, going from water to wine to ginger ale.

Ward’s good this episode. She’s been shaky before and the character’s not great (Caruso’s back to telling her to take Cubitt back, after telling her to dump him in the pilot, but telling her to take him back in the pre-pilot, clearly Haggis is Team Take Back), but she and Caruso’s scenes are very well-acted, very well-timed. And episode director Fred Gerber gets how to shoot the actors to emphasize their performances, especially Caruso, who’s very restrained chewy. Chew the scenery with your mouth closed, David. It works out quite well and this episode’s easily the series best.

Not to say they should’ve made it the pilot but… who knows. Maybe.

Mechoso’s only okay as the cop. He ought to be better. But he does try. It doesn’t help Santiago-Hudson’s so flat in their scenes together.

Rebecca Rigg shows up for a scene to make jokes about sex workers with other female lawyer Hillary Danner—I’d forgotten nineties male-written feminism—she’s good in the scene but disappears once they decide the best way to crack the cast is toxic masculinity. Danner gets to do all of the legal work in the episode, spending all of it sitting in a conference room by herself. Not the best use of the only two workplace female regular (sorry, special guest stars because SAG chicanery), especially since Jodi Long gets a bunch of good material. She’s Caruso’s new assistant; she came with the promotion and quickly tires of his anti-blue blood decorating complaints.

There’s a very peculiar postscript bookend with the Meyer storyline—oh, that reused footage doesn’t have her talking so they don’t even credit her (because then they’d have to pay her)—giving the episode a nice, odd close, and some impromptu character development for Caruso.

It’s a little bumpy, but it’s a solid episode with some outstanding acting from Caruso.

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.