A blow to the sensibilities

Press, 18 February 1986, Page 11

A blow to the sensibilities

r Review!

Ken Strongman

Friday’s “Moonlighting” is television for instant consumption and even more rapid forgetting. The best thing about it is that it is scheduled on Two as “The South Bank Show” purrs its silky way along on One. This is an excellent piece of programming since the persons who would wish to see both could be counted on the fingers of one foot.

It is a television comic strip, featuring the by-now commonplace female and male team who bicker their way through some crimefighting. Cybill Shepherd is ex-model Maddie Hayes with an archetypal North American body suspended on cheekbone, teeth and legs. Her male member, as it were, is Bruce Willies, a rough-hewn jokester who hides his basic humanity behind a smokescreen of words.

Following the previous week’s pilot, last Friday’s episode immediately set the scene for disbelief to be suspended. An aged, hospitalised gangster successfully fought off the close attention of a hired gun whilst he was still connected to his dripfeed. It had its improbable moments.

Like an increasing number of pulp series, “Moonlighting” depends on everyone conning every-

one else, except Maddie of course. But we know with the arch inevitability of such matters, that in the fullness of time she will learn to con with the best of them. All this conning, relies not on plot, but on a frustrating plethora of insubstantial words. In the end, the whole passes in a blur of noise. The baddies are melodramatic nonsenses and the surrounding characters are as overblown as Christmas balloons in the new year. One of them is a near perfect creation, managing to reinforce several stereotypes at once. She is a secretary in the agency and is dumpy, very homely looking, has glasses, of course, suffers in her admiration for Maddie and from unrequited love for her boss. It is embarrassing. The language of “Moonlighting” is all that might be expected. “I was a pawn,” said someone. Or it might have been “I was a porn” — the context was of little help in deciding. The humour, for it is

supposed to be a lighthearted romp through the American jungle, depends on subtleties such as: “Just because his son’s a killer doesn’t mean he’s not a nice person.” After a few minutes of this, the actors tire and either flounce about or attempt to kill one another. Last week’s episode was called “Gunfight at the So-so Corrall” and involved the investigators being hired by one contract killer to find another. But it was not just as nonsensically comic as it sounds. It was also, simply, immoral. “I was the best killer in the business.” one of them said.

“Moonlighting” is not just rubbish, it is potentially dangerous rubbish, People hit, bludgeon and shoot one another, but without apparent injury. The only people to suffer are the viewers, who receive a succession of swift kicks to the sensibilities. Any viewers that do not might just believe that somewhere out there is a world like “Moonlighting.” There isn’t; nor are there people like this; nor should there be television programmes of this sort.

However, last Friday evening was not entirely wasted. There was a splendid item on “Eyewitness News” about an exgang member working on a farm rather than serving a prison sentence. It was a refreshing positive change from the usual negative dramas. Earlier, on what promises to be a dreadful rundown on the confounded visitation by Halley, the comet was described as an “evil, hairy star.” Hairy? In the end, though, everything is right with Friday. “Auf Wiedersehen, Pet” has begun again and it doesn’t matter that it is the third time round. There is a world out there like this. As Os has it with his usual pithy elegance: “One for all, and sod the rest,” which wasn’t exactly what Dumas had in mind.