Two
new series appeal to contrasting TV cravings. THE HUMAN FACTOR (CBS, April
16, 10-11 p.m.) is a doctor show that wants to soothe and reassure, to
make us feel that the medical profession consists of the most dedicated
bunch of guys and gals imaginable.
MANN
& MACHINE (NBC, April 12, 8-9 p.m.) is a futuristic cops-and-robbers
show designed to thrill and unsettle, to make us marvel at technology and
wonder whether mechanical creations might actually make better law enforcers
than people.
"The
Human Factor" is the title of a touchy-feely course taught to medical students
both bright- and bleary eyed by Dr. Alec McMurtry (John Mahoney) at an
inner-city teaching hospital. The course is designed, McMurtry says in
the debut episode, to teach these fledgling physicians "about the emotional
part of the doctor-patient relationship. Human doctors; human patients
it's the most important part of your medical profession."
Few
actors could spout such lulling piffle without inviting jeers: Aw! Doesn't
the Mercedes Factor play at least as big a role in a doctor's motivation?
This series is lucky, therefore, to have its doctor-teacher played by Mahoney,
whose low, cottony growl and middle-aged stolidness have transformed him
into a character actor of the first order in movies like Moonstruck, Suspect,
The Russia House, Say Anything, and the current Article 99. Mahoney speaks
with quiet authority and makes you want to believe everything he says.
He is therefore an ideal TV hero: a firm, fatherly, almost priestly teacher
whose lectures enthrall The Human Factor's young med students.
Whether
those lectures will enthrall us is another matter. Each episode has more
or less the same structure: The show begins in the hospital classroom,
where McMurtry delivers a homily about good doctor-patient relations; then
McMurtry's young charges scurry off to get involved in the week's subplots-the
life of a young boy with heart-valve problems is endangered because his
parents' religious beliefs prohibit medical intervention; a rude, abrasive
doctor played by guest star Wendie Malick (Dream On) is fired and sues
the hospital for sex discrimination. At the end of the show, the class
reconvenes for McMurtry's final analysis and closing benediction, usually
something on the order of "Understanding and compassion are as important
as drugs and scalpels."
On
the basis of the four episodes I have seen, The Human Factor is earnest
and well acted not only by Mahoney but by a number of the unknown young
performers playing the medical students, notably Loryn Locklin, who manages
to make callousness seem like a winning character trait, and Matt Ryan,
who makes youthful arrogance seem like the best way to tough it out in
med school. But the stories frequently seem cribbed from old hospital shows
ranging from Marcus Welby, M.D. to St. Elsewhere, and Mahoney's character
has an all- knowing assurance that often makes him seem too good to be
true-or, at least, believable.
By
contrast, the hero of Mann & Machine is a callous lout, a break-all-the-
rules cop named Bobby Mann. He's played by David Andrews, who, since wearing
discreet pinstripes in last season's short-lived lawyer show The Antagonists,
has chopped his hair down to a brutal buzz cut and donned black T-shirts,
jeans, and boots. Andrews' Mann lives in a future America where a program
is being developed that pairs cops and robots to fight crime. It's a new
system, and our old-fashioned, hotshot cop doesn't like it. When he discovers
that his extremely human-looking partner is a cyborg, Andrews gets to utter
the inevitable line "Oh, man, you're a machine!"
Mann's
new machine is Eve Edison (Yancy Butler), who can shoot a gun more accurately
than any human and whose artificial skin lets her do things like jump through
plate glass windows without a scratch. She is also, predictably, one babe
of a robot, more than a match for her hunky Mann. Butler conveys her mechanical
status in the venerable tradition of all bad sci-fi movies: She keeps her
eyes open very wide at all times and never uses contractions when she talks
("I am very hungry").
Mann
& Machine is basically nothing more than Hunter with an android, and
it carries a creepy, sexist subtext. We are told that Eve has "the emotional
development" of "a 7-year-old child." In practice, this means that Eve
comes off as a dumb beauty led around by a man. When Bobby says, "I have
to take a shower," Eve, who was programmed to observe human behavior, says
innocently, "Oh, can I watch?" Viewers are supposed to chuckle and be turned
on at the same time, but sneers and turn-offs might be the real result.
Both
shows are overseen by co-executive producer Dick Wolf, who also heads up
the best drama on television, NBC's Law & Order. Wolf, whose previous
credits include Hill Street Blues and Miami Vice, has established a recognizable
style: He likes to take action formats that lend themselves to hard-boiled
archetypes and fill them with soft-boiled, thoughtful characters.
Where
a producer like Stephen J. Cannell (The A-Team, The Rockford Files) humanizes
his heroes by turning them into breezy wisecrackers, Wolf attempts something
riskier by making his protagonists vulnerable, realistically sensitive.
The
fundamental trouble with Mann & Machine is that its robot is, by default,
the sensitive one; the show's flesh-and-blood hero is just your basic macho
jerk. The Human Factor is more promising; its primary, easily remedied
flaw is that its humane hero is a tad too saintly. Wolf has said that Factor
is "Marcus Welby with an edge." So far, it lacks the edge.
