Sunday, May 14, 2006
Covington: Blind Faith
By Gary Covington
Looking In
COME back Dirty Harry. All is forgiven.
Dirty Harry? Ah, I was forgetting you younger readers. Dirty Harry was a cinematic San Francisco cop played by Clint Eastwood (it was San Francisco wasn't it folks, all those years ago?). Harry was a no-nonsense sort of cop; bad guys were bad guys and that was that. Blow them away. And he did, by the multitude, with an enormous Magnum handgun.
Why am I reminiscing about Harry? Because... many moons ago -- I was slugging off television's detective Monk at the time -- I wrote of a secret office somewhere in Hollywood whose occupants were tasked with coming up with new and exciting cops and robbers series. Well, I can report that their latest is a genuine corker. A blind detective.
Control yourselves at the back there. It's true.
The show is called Blind Faith and, watching the promo trailer, I couldn't, er, believe my eyes. Here's this young guy wearing really cool shades being led to the crime scene by a guide dog – “Hey Hal, mind the yellow tape... too late. Pick him up someone”.
Back at the bullpen -- that's detective speak for office -- naturally and to pad out the show, there's a fellow sleuth who doesn't think Hal's fit to be on the force. Who sniggers when Hal walks into the furniture or can't find the door but who, by the end of each episode, gets his comeuppance as Hal cracks the case yet again.
Hal solves his cases with the help of a partner, a tasty (aren't they always) lady detective. Hal's on to a winner here. He can't see and so his partner gets to do the grunt work; rooting through trashcans, patting down bodies, running after the bad guys, while Hal stands about looking cool and cop-like and waving his pistol.
Pistol? Yes; the maniacs down at the precinct have seen fit to issue a blind man with a firearm. Can you believe it? A blind cop in charge of one of those modern automatics which fire ten thousand rounds per second. Carnage!
Well, actually no. Hal, lacking the ability to see has developed super senses. Ears that can tell apart the caliber of pistol shots at half a mile, a nose, which puts his dog to shame and taste buds a gourmet would kill for. He can hear the bad guy sweating, taste his fear and think his thoughts... didn't I mention that? Hal can think like a bad guy, knows that he's going to pop out of that door just about... Blam! Blam! Blam!
What is it with all these dysfunctional detectives around these days? Why must they all be differently-abled, belong to minority groups or just plain wacko? Is it a contractual clause thing -- every tenth series thou shall employ a one-legged Serbo-Croat?
Remember Ironsides? He was in a wheelchair (a lovely actor though, the late great Raymond Burr), Cadfael (a Franciscan monk), Boney (an Aussie aborigine and a thoughtful series really because it introduced to the viewer a blending of two different logics, Aussie whitey and bushman).
Then there was fat Cannon, cowboy McCloud, Columbo of the wandering eye and scruffy raincoat, Chinese detectives, Belgian detectives, black detectives, busybody old lady detectives (Miss Marple) and, for all I know, gay detectives. Is it any wonder I pine for Dirty Harry Callaghan?
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