Crime Under the Palm Trees
I've watched quite a few episodes of Hawaii Five-O of late, (the Roku channel XPUS is currently running all twelve series back-to-back), marvelling at Jack Lord's hair, the always magnificent theme tune and the surprisingly well-constructed plots. I remember the show from my childhood, when it was a perennial fixture on ITV, coming back year after year. By the time it ended, in 1980, after twelve seasons, it only seemed surprising because most people were amazed that it was even still running. A series that spanned across three decades - it started in 1968 - it was hardly surprising that, by 1980, the format was beginning to look outdated and stale. Even 'Danno' had left before the final season started, with Jame MacArthur being replaced by B-movie tough guy William Smith's Chimo and a female cop being added to the line-up in a final attempt to bring the format into the eighties. Only Jack Lord's Steve McGarrett and the Honolulu locations remained a constant until the end, (it was joked that, by the final series, having played the part for so long, Lord believed that he was McGarrett and wanted to have real bullets in his gun). One of the reason's for the show's longevity was, undoubtedly, the fact that, unlike most cop shows of its era, its subject matter ranged far and wide: one week the 'Five-O' team might be investigating gang wars, the next espionage or terrorism, with other episodes involving anything from murder to hostage situations to fraud or kidnapping. But its biggest asset was that location. Whereas most crime series gave their viewers gritty urban locations, from the backstreets of LA to the alleys of New York, Hawaii Five-O played out against a colourful tropical backdrop that made you yearn to be on holiday.
Hawaii, of course, has long been the 'go to' location for US TV producers seeking to inject an exotic flavour into otherwise standard formats: Charlie's Angels, for instance, spent around half of its final season there (although it wasn't enough to avoid cancellation), while, for its last two seasons, Baywatch became Baywatch: Hawaii. Other TV series would frequently have the odd episode set there, (often a two-parter to either open or close a season). Moreover, Hawaii Five-O was neither the first nor the last crime series to utilise the location - it was preceded by Hawaiian Eye and succeeded by Magnum PI - but remains the TV show most identified with the fiftieth state. It was Hawaii's status as a US state that made it such an attractive location for TV producers seeking exotic locations: easy to access from the mainland, none of the problems inherent in filming overseas, no problems with language or labour laws. Yet, at the same time, it looked sufficiently different and distinctive from any mainland US location, both in terms of appearance and culture, for viewers to feel that they had been transported to some exotic foreign country. A useful asset for TV producers to be able to fall back on in order to get that 'foreign' vibe without ever having to leave the US. Sadly, here in the UK, we had no real equivalent. Producers of low budget British sex comedies, for instance, had to settle for some out-of-season seaside resort or holiday camp if they wanted something 'exotic', (more often than not, somewhere on the Norfolk coast, with Arctic winds blowing in across the North Sea - although Bournemouth or Brighton on the South Coast, or even Blackpool, might offer something more upmarket but also more expensive). In TV terms, the closest UK equivalent to Hawaii Five-O would probably be Bergerac, shot on our own 'Hawaii', Jersey, whose proximity to France gives it, to BBC producers, at least, a 'foreign' and exotic feel. Actually, when you think about it, there were similarities - both featured cops working for a fictional island-based police department charged with dealing with foreign criminals, although John Nettles' hair wasn't as magnificent as Jack Lord's, while McGarrett was never in danger of driving off the edge of his island if he accelerated his car above thirty miles an hour...
Labels: Musings From the Mind of Doc Sleaze, Nostalgic Naughtiness
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