Due South: "The Witness"
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truepennyDue South 2.3, "The Witness"
Original air date: December 14, 1995
Favorite quote:
RAY: Right. So we're gonna protect him. You and me surrounded by nine thousand violent offenders.
FRASER: For God's sake, Ray, don't blow the situation out of proportion. There's only eight thousand nine hundred and seventy-three prisoners here.
Spoilers.
Let us admit at once and without embarrassment that the legal underpinnings of this episode make no sense. There's nowhere even to begin. As a procedural, "The Witness" makes a very nice pineapple upside down cake. Also it features one of the few instances in Due South of ignore-the-man-behind-the-curtain pararealism. Why would Ray rather go to prison, where anyone with a grudge can line up to take a whack at him, than apologize?
FRASER: You know, you could try apologizing.
RAY: To who?
FRASER: To the judge.
RAY: Not my style.
Which is, as the other Ray would say, D-U-M dumb. (Also we notice that in this episode, Ray apparently has no family.) And Ray Vecchio is a lot of things, but he isn't dumb. Except here, where he is.
On the other hand, if we look at this moment on a different level, it does make some sense. Ray has a confrontational, hostile relationship with authority figures; it's particularly obvious when you look at his relationship with Welsh (and compare it to Ray Kowalski's relationship with Welsh). Vecchio and Welsh are antagonists, not because they lack, as Fraser says of his own relationship with Thatcher, rapport, but because Ray Vecchio's response to people in authority is structural rather than personal. And since we've seen his father in action in "North," we know why. On that level, on the symbolic psychological level, Ray's refusal to apologize to the judge makes perfect sense.
And on that level, this episode works just fine. Read it as a fairytale.
Once upon a time, there was a good man.
The prison is any prison, all prisons, so it doesn't matter that Kruger's there for murder (which he hasn't even been convicted of yet); Torres for, well, we don't even know for what, but Grand Theft Auto were his two priors; Ray for contempt of court; and Fraser, bless his heart, for shoplifting Milk Duds.
Like I said, pineapple upside down cake.
But accept it as The Prison. Accept the judge as Authority, against which Ray must--not so much rebel as just balk. Then the story becomes much easier to swallow. There is a man in prison who is in trouble, because he has been shut in with a bad man. Ray is put in prison because he rejects Authority's right to, well, have authority over him, and he too is in trouble. Fraser, again displaying his complete inability to modulate his friendship, gets himself put in prison, where Ray and Fraser protect the prisoner; the strict time limit is also very fairytale, as is Carl, who is my second favorite deus ex machina in the history of ever.* Carl is exactly like something in a fairytale (e.g., Androcles and the Lion). Fraser does him a favor at the beginning, without any thought of personal gain, and when the crunch comes, Carl repays that favor, also proving that he's capable of speaking in complete sentences, which is a revelation to us all. (He isn't quoting Donne's "no man is an island" exactly, but Donne's Devotions on Emergent Occasions may be the answer to Ray's question: "Wow. What book did you give him?") This is the pararealism proper to Due South, the kind that calls attention to itself and expects its audience to get the joke.
There isn't really a B-plot to "The Witness," but there is sort of a B-theme, which is the performance of femininity by women in authority and the discontents thereof. It's there in the opening sequence, with Thatcher hiding her glasses as Fraser comes in:
FRASER: Don't you need your glasses, sir?
THATCHER: I don't wear glasses.
FRASER: Understood.
But even more so as we consider the nature of the errand Fraser has been sent on (and notice the nature of this exchange as a duel, conducted with all the punctilio you could want):
THATCHER: You're late.
[point to Thatcher, 1-love]
FRASER: Yes. There was a delay at the dry cleaners.
THATCHER: I thought true blue types like you didn't believe in excuses, Fraser.
[2-love]
FRASER: Well, you're quite right, and I'm sorry for apologizing. If I'd only noticed the smoke earlier--
THATCHER: Smoke?
[He's made her look up. 2-1]
FRASER: Yes. Apparently the pressing machine short-circuited. Now, by the time I got the cashiers out, racks A through E were already in flames, and I was only able to save this. And I'm afraid it's a little singed.
[2-2 for the complete lack of visible schadenfreude]
THATCHER: You ran into a burning building to save a mohair sweater.
FRASER: Yes, sir.
THATCHER: Well, pardon me if that sounds like sheer stupidity.
[3-2, although Thatcher is abusing the privilege of rank]
FRASER: Yes, sir.
THATCHER: You don't agree.
[3-3, for disagreeing by agreeing]
FRASER: No, sir. Stupidity would have been if I'd gone back in for your leather chaps.
[point to Fraser for turning her own words back on her, plus another point for the reveal that he's been perfectly aware both of his own absurdity and of hers all along, making it 3-5]
THATCHER: Dismissed.
[victory to Constable Fraser]
Thatcher's performance of femininity involves an almost violent disconnect between her clothes and hair and make up--and the fact that Camilla Scott is really lovely--and her voice and affect. There's a perfectly mixed message in Fraser being called on the carpet for being late back with her personal dry cleaning. Thatcher is, in fact, the queen of mixed messages, and there is a suggestion in later episodes that this is the cost of her authority, that she can't figure out how to balance the woman and the Inspector, and thus overcompensates, first to one side, then to the other.
And the reason for Thatcher's malaise also comes up, from the opposite perspective:
WELSH: Women in authority. It's a quandary. It shouldn't be, but it is.
FRASER: Sir.
WELSH: I mean, you wanna treat 'em like the rest of the guys, you wanna have them nod off in strategic planning sessions, you want them to have sweat rings and maybe a little too much garlic on their breath. But no. No, not women. Women smell good. And women look good. And then they smile at you, and before you know it, you're smiling back. And the first time they tear a piece off you, it's like somebody's sticking an icepick through your heart.
FRASER: Sir? . . . Sir. I have no idea what you're talking about.
What Welsh is talking about, of course, is Commander O'Neill, who is little and blonde and pretty and his superior officer. And he's talking about the problem that Thatcher has, and that Frannie's having in "Vault," which is that we're all trained to read the markers of femininity (I don't think it's an accident that Thatcher's mohair sweater is pink) as equating to a lack of authority, to being nice and docile and gentle. (Notice also the double-bind implicit in what Welsh says. Men in authority don't have to look good or smell good; women in authority do, or they'll never get any authority in the first place. Likewise, men in authority can get away with falling asleep in meetings; women can't.) The show doesn't have any answers, but it does get points for recognizing the question.
Can anyone tell me if Thatcher is quoting something, possibly a Frank Capra movie, in the last scene?
FRASER: Sir, I would like you to know that I've given very serious thought to the matter of a transfer.
THATCHER: And?
FRASER: While I find the prospect of returning home appealing, I would prefer not to leave at this time. I've come to feel that I, uh . . .
THATCHER: You feel that maybe in some small way you have something to offer them.
FRASER: Yes, sir.
THATCHER: Dismissed.
FRASER: Yes, sir.
Because I find her response bizarre, both out of character and kind of a non sequitur, and I'm wondering if there's some context that I'm missing.
---
*My absolute favorite is the ninja ex machina in David McDaniel's Man from U.N.C.L.E. novel, The Utopia Affair.
Original air date: December 14, 1995
Favorite quote:
RAY: Right. So we're gonna protect him. You and me surrounded by nine thousand violent offenders.
FRASER: For God's sake, Ray, don't blow the situation out of proportion. There's only eight thousand nine hundred and seventy-three prisoners here.
Spoilers.
Let us admit at once and without embarrassment that the legal underpinnings of this episode make no sense. There's nowhere even to begin. As a procedural, "The Witness" makes a very nice pineapple upside down cake. Also it features one of the few instances in Due South of ignore-the-man-behind-the-curtain pararealism. Why would Ray rather go to prison, where anyone with a grudge can line up to take a whack at him, than apologize?
FRASER: You know, you could try apologizing.
RAY: To who?
FRASER: To the judge.
RAY: Not my style.
Which is, as the other Ray would say, D-U-M dumb. (Also we notice that in this episode, Ray apparently has no family.) And Ray Vecchio is a lot of things, but he isn't dumb. Except here, where he is.
On the other hand, if we look at this moment on a different level, it does make some sense. Ray has a confrontational, hostile relationship with authority figures; it's particularly obvious when you look at his relationship with Welsh (and compare it to Ray Kowalski's relationship with Welsh). Vecchio and Welsh are antagonists, not because they lack, as Fraser says of his own relationship with Thatcher, rapport, but because Ray Vecchio's response to people in authority is structural rather than personal. And since we've seen his father in action in "North," we know why. On that level, on the symbolic psychological level, Ray's refusal to apologize to the judge makes perfect sense.
And on that level, this episode works just fine. Read it as a fairytale.
Once upon a time, there was a good man.
The prison is any prison, all prisons, so it doesn't matter that Kruger's there for murder (which he hasn't even been convicted of yet); Torres for, well, we don't even know for what, but Grand Theft Auto were his two priors; Ray for contempt of court; and Fraser, bless his heart, for shoplifting Milk Duds.
Like I said, pineapple upside down cake.
But accept it as The Prison. Accept the judge as Authority, against which Ray must--not so much rebel as just balk. Then the story becomes much easier to swallow. There is a man in prison who is in trouble, because he has been shut in with a bad man. Ray is put in prison because he rejects Authority's right to, well, have authority over him, and he too is in trouble. Fraser, again displaying his complete inability to modulate his friendship, gets himself put in prison, where Ray and Fraser protect the prisoner; the strict time limit is also very fairytale, as is Carl, who is my second favorite deus ex machina in the history of ever.* Carl is exactly like something in a fairytale (e.g., Androcles and the Lion). Fraser does him a favor at the beginning, without any thought of personal gain, and when the crunch comes, Carl repays that favor, also proving that he's capable of speaking in complete sentences, which is a revelation to us all. (He isn't quoting Donne's "no man is an island" exactly, but Donne's Devotions on Emergent Occasions may be the answer to Ray's question: "Wow. What book did you give him?") This is the pararealism proper to Due South, the kind that calls attention to itself and expects its audience to get the joke.
There isn't really a B-plot to "The Witness," but there is sort of a B-theme, which is the performance of femininity by women in authority and the discontents thereof. It's there in the opening sequence, with Thatcher hiding her glasses as Fraser comes in:
FRASER: Don't you need your glasses, sir?
THATCHER: I don't wear glasses.
FRASER: Understood.
But even more so as we consider the nature of the errand Fraser has been sent on (and notice the nature of this exchange as a duel, conducted with all the punctilio you could want):
THATCHER: You're late.
[point to Thatcher, 1-love]
FRASER: Yes. There was a delay at the dry cleaners.
THATCHER: I thought true blue types like you didn't believe in excuses, Fraser.
[2-love]
FRASER: Well, you're quite right, and I'm sorry for apologizing. If I'd only noticed the smoke earlier--
THATCHER: Smoke?
[He's made her look up. 2-1]
FRASER: Yes. Apparently the pressing machine short-circuited. Now, by the time I got the cashiers out, racks A through E were already in flames, and I was only able to save this. And I'm afraid it's a little singed.
[2-2 for the complete lack of visible schadenfreude]
THATCHER: You ran into a burning building to save a mohair sweater.
FRASER: Yes, sir.
THATCHER: Well, pardon me if that sounds like sheer stupidity.
[3-2, although Thatcher is abusing the privilege of rank]
FRASER: Yes, sir.
THATCHER: You don't agree.
[3-3, for disagreeing by agreeing]
FRASER: No, sir. Stupidity would have been if I'd gone back in for your leather chaps.
[point to Fraser for turning her own words back on her, plus another point for the reveal that he's been perfectly aware both of his own absurdity and of hers all along, making it 3-5]
THATCHER: Dismissed.
[victory to Constable Fraser]
Thatcher's performance of femininity involves an almost violent disconnect between her clothes and hair and make up--and the fact that Camilla Scott is really lovely--and her voice and affect. There's a perfectly mixed message in Fraser being called on the carpet for being late back with her personal dry cleaning. Thatcher is, in fact, the queen of mixed messages, and there is a suggestion in later episodes that this is the cost of her authority, that she can't figure out how to balance the woman and the Inspector, and thus overcompensates, first to one side, then to the other.
And the reason for Thatcher's malaise also comes up, from the opposite perspective:
WELSH: Women in authority. It's a quandary. It shouldn't be, but it is.
FRASER: Sir.
WELSH: I mean, you wanna treat 'em like the rest of the guys, you wanna have them nod off in strategic planning sessions, you want them to have sweat rings and maybe a little too much garlic on their breath. But no. No, not women. Women smell good. And women look good. And then they smile at you, and before you know it, you're smiling back. And the first time they tear a piece off you, it's like somebody's sticking an icepick through your heart.
FRASER: Sir? . . . Sir. I have no idea what you're talking about.
What Welsh is talking about, of course, is Commander O'Neill, who is little and blonde and pretty and his superior officer. And he's talking about the problem that Thatcher has, and that Frannie's having in "Vault," which is that we're all trained to read the markers of femininity (I don't think it's an accident that Thatcher's mohair sweater is pink) as equating to a lack of authority, to being nice and docile and gentle. (Notice also the double-bind implicit in what Welsh says. Men in authority don't have to look good or smell good; women in authority do, or they'll never get any authority in the first place. Likewise, men in authority can get away with falling asleep in meetings; women can't.) The show doesn't have any answers, but it does get points for recognizing the question.
Can anyone tell me if Thatcher is quoting something, possibly a Frank Capra movie, in the last scene?
FRASER: Sir, I would like you to know that I've given very serious thought to the matter of a transfer.
THATCHER: And?
FRASER: While I find the prospect of returning home appealing, I would prefer not to leave at this time. I've come to feel that I, uh . . .
THATCHER: You feel that maybe in some small way you have something to offer them.
FRASER: Yes, sir.
THATCHER: Dismissed.
FRASER: Yes, sir.
Because I find her response bizarre, both out of character and kind of a non sequitur, and I'm wondering if there's some context that I'm missing.
---
*My absolute favorite is the ninja ex machina in David McDaniel's Man from U.N.C.L.E. novel, The Utopia Affair.
...Something to offer...
Date: 2010-03-03 04:07 am (UTC)"Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them - if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you."
Ps. THANK YOU for these commentaries; I hope you one day have time to finish all the episodes.
no subject
Date: 2015-06-22 10:02 pm (UTC)The Fraser I know does not badger an inmate's wife about the definition of perjury.