As usual, Gregg Easterbrook’s weekly NFL column contains a fair bit of non-football stuff. This week, he spends a bit of time detailing just how unrealistic the rebooted TV show Hawaii Five-0 is. It’s a rather overwhelming list of unlikely, unrealistic, and just plain silly TV:
All action shows contain some nonsense. As the television critic James Parker has noted, an action series that consists entirely of nonsense is an art form. Parker thought 24 was an achievement in that sense. Inheriting this mantle is the reimagined Hawaii Five-0, whose third season kicks off Monday. Five-0 has emerged as television’s most entertaining delivery system for pure nonsense.
An episode begins with a prisoner on a commercial flight killing the U.S. marshal escorting him. The murder weapon? I am not making this up: Two plastic airline knives held together with a rubber band. Passengers were unaware a murder was in progress onboard, because the marshal inexplicably did not fight back or cry out, although it would take quite a while — probably hours — to kill someone using two plastic airline knives held together with a rubber band.
[. . .]
On Hawaii Five-0, a small group of cops has an omniscient supercomputer the CIA would envy. Plots regularly involve automatic-weapons fire on the streets of Honolulu. The Aliiolani Hale, a Hawaii landmark, is presented as the secret headquarters of Five-0, as if a Washington, D.C., detective show presented the Washington Monument as a secret headquarters. “I confer on you blanket immunity from prosecution, so you can go outside the law to stop crime,” the governor tells McGarrett. Gov, think about what you just said! Not even Oliver North had advance immunity.
There’s a long list of laughable TV cop tropes, including the inability of bullets to even slow down Five-0 agents, immortal super bad guys, better-than-SF crime-solving technology, plus the usual imaginary laws, ignoring both common sense and the laws of physics, and so on. But he also points out a serious flaw in most modern TV representation of police and other law enforcement activities:
On TV, cops in street clothes just say, “Police” or “NYPD,” and instantly are believed. In a CSI: Miami episode, the David Caruso character, asked to prove he is a cop, dismissively waves his badge too far away to be seen. In a Five-0 episode, a person being questioned asks McGarrett for proof of who he is. “This is all the proof you’re going to get,” McGarrett snaps, flashing his badge so briefly no one could know whether it was real, let alone read his name.
Why do TV script writers promote the idea that it is unreasonable to ask law enforcement officers to establish identity? No honest cop objects to this. Fake badges can be purchased in a costume store, and criminals pretending to be police are a long-standing problem. If a guy banged on the door of a Hawaii Five-0 producer, claiming to be a detective but refusing to show ID, that producer surely would dial 911.
Of course action shows are preposterous. But it is troubling that television crime dramas imply that law enforcement officers should never be questioned. Why does Hollywood think this is a notion the American public should be force fed?
