OK, honestly I don't remember the episode in any great detail, but a swaggering smuggler, a crooked lawyer, and the local Chinese mafia engage in a futile attempt to smuggle gold under McGarrett's chiseled nose. They tip him off by killing someone. I remember being a kid and hearing that Five-O was the most violent show on television for the nth year in a row, but it wasn't long before even a doddering Lansbury couldn't justify a show without a body or two.
This is my first Five-O post, so I just want to say a big mahalo to the cast. Not for their performance, but for their names. Jack Lord!? And I though King of Pop Michael Jackson was pretentious. I guess he wanted to trim down John Joseph Patrick Ryan, which is what his mom called him. Meanwhile, James MacArthur takes on "Danny," which the Lord commandeth, lo that Dano's Irishness might divert attention from his own. Ever the self-hating boy bent on passing for a Scot, Lord also insisted that local actor Kam Fong be cast as Officer Kelly, a besotten buffoon and butt of jokes. The eventual compromise starred Fong as Chin Ho Kelly, one of the best Irish Cop Names I've ever heard. Then there's Kono, a made-up Hawaiian name played by the actual Zulu (a made up name for a Hawaiian).
And that's just the regulars. This episode has a villain named Johnny Fargo, which just rolls off the tongue and would be fine on its own, but the actor's name is Kaz Garas, which is even awesomer. I am sitting here now repeating each name again and again, with '40s gangster flair. For some reason, Johnny's scheme involves spending 250 grand on a tuna boat so he can catch aku, go pick up gold bars from under a buoy, stuff them in the fish, offload the fish at a dock a quarter mile away, and drive them somewhere to gut the gold out of 'em. Seems more complicated than just walking off a fishing boat with a duffle bag, since there's no customs inspection, but I guess then that nice Chinese girl wouldn't have accidentally bought one of those fish and gotten herself killed to kick off the episode.
But man, things get crazy when you're dealing with gold. I mean, the stuff was worth 35 bucks an ounce, which was the legally mandated price back then for gold and marijuana (now gold is going for about $1625, and marijuana for I have no idea how much). So Fargo needs upwards of four tons of gold to make any money after the boat, crew, buying off the cannery workers, and so on.
Johnny has not only a leaky scheme, but a weakness for the ladies, and so McGarrett, after first angrily yelling "Uh-uh, no dames!" allows Andrea, played by Marj Dusay (yeah, another incredible name, ending in a j and a y must've made her autographs look very fancy) to go undercover as a sophisticated, high-class criminal, and of course Johnny gets a load of those gams and falls right into her trap. As you may already have guessed, Dusay was born Marjorie Ellen Pavonka Mahoney, of the Kansas Mahoneys. Jack Lord thought she was a looker, and after a private interview in his suite agreed to let her hide her Irishness.
The names are great, and there are various things to love about the series, but what makes this episode really stand out is that it contains what may be the finest example of tire-squealing in the Golden Age of Tire Squealing. Even though she's been taken hostage by Johnny, Andrea has a beacon that guides Five-O (they are psychic, and can discern from the dash-mounted red light exactly where she's headed) on a chase that winds up and then down a high-rise parking structure. I think it goes on for a minute and a half or so. Squeal after squeal after squeal, non-stop excitement.
I'm guessing they had some time to fill. Besides, TV then and ever after has understood that parking garages make great locations: controlled access, brutalist architectural lines, squealy surfaces, and no civilians accidentally walking a scene or weather changes messing with continuity. Five-O sure loved a good garage chase, but would dub in squealing tires everywhere, even on loose gravel or cane roads. McGarrett works directly for the Governor, and goes nowhere slowly, pal.
The show tore on for another 12 years, and no doubt there will be more posts. But for now, I must salute squealing tires, the crypto-Irish diaspora, and $35/ounce gold.
No comments:
Post a Comment