Third Watch Revisited

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It happens all too rarely, but every once in a while, network television hits a nerve in the collective consciousness, and makes a statement about society as a whole by examining its microcosmic components. For six seasons, from September 1999 to May 2005, NBC’s Third Watch consistently accomplished just that. Ostensibly, the show focused on the day to day exploits of the cops, firefighters and paramedics of the fictional 55th precinct )nicknamed “Camelot” by the cops who work there because it sits at the corner of King and Arthur) and 53rd Fire House of New York City, who work the 3-11 PM, or “third watch” shift. That was really only a springboard, though. Third Watch was really about humanity’s tenuous hold on the urban landscape it’s created.

Of course, the series had it antecedents—Hill Street Blues, ER and Emergency come to mind immediately—but Third Watch went a step further, weaving its characters into the larger personality of the city itself. What series creators John Wells (ER, The West Wing) and Edward Allen Bernero (Criminal Minds) accomplished with Third Watch remains a benchmark in the annals of dramatic television. And while it was never a runaway ratings blockbuster, it maintained a following sufficient for it to run 132 episodes over six seasons. Along the way, it garnered critical acclaim, Emmy nominations and awards for some of its actors. It was a complex series that literally hit the ground running, and ended even more explosively than it began.

Finally, almost nine years after it originally aired, Third Watch: The Complete First Season is available in the United States as a six disc DVD boxed set. (It’s been available as a Region 2 disc for a couple of years now, albeit slightly altered.) While it’s somewhat odd it’s taken this long for the series to make it to DVD, this edition was worth the wait. Admittedly, I may be a little biased. I watched Third Watch religiously throughout its six season run, rearranging my schedule constantly as NBC shifted it from one timeslot to the next. I’ll readily admit I was a junkie—the recurring characters made me care about them, and I ended up caring about the fleeting situations in which they became embroiled in the course of a shift’s work.

Time being what it is, I’d more or less resigned myself to the idea that Third Watch was consigned to syndication and basic cable, with disjointed episodes running out of context, much like 24 reruns. Third Watch: The Complete First Season masterfully lays the groundwork for the series, introducing characters who would be pivotal through the run of Third Watch. It was an ensemble cast to be sure, and no single character was a showboater—all were integral to the overall story to each individual episode, as they were to the larger canvas of the series, which continually evolved with each episode.

In the end, though, Third Watch wasn’t about cops or firefighters or paramedics—it was more akin to contemporary knights errant unknowingly slaying invisible dragons. They were blue knights who never strayed far from their blue collar roots. The fact that they were equally concerned with the rigors and pitfalls of their daily lives as they were with the demands of their jobs gave the series a resonance unmatched by any other series of its type. It moved at such a breakneck pace that sometimes the subplots seemed trivial—much in the same way real life works. Third Watch was a rarity—it moved at the pace of life, leaving ragged edges in its wake.

It’s fitting that the DVD collection is presented in 2.0 stereo and its original 1.33:1 video format. Enhancing it would only detract from its original intent. Extras are kept at a minimum, too—a retrospective featurette featuring the writers and some cast members, and the almost obligatory gag reel of flubbed lines. The almost 1000 minutes of drama in this collection make it stand as one of the greatest network series of the New Millenium, if not of all time.

Video Kicks with Route 66

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I realize I’m dating myself here, but one of my fondest memories from early childhood is the TV series Route 66. I was too young to understand the nuances of the series—in fact, all I really remember is how cool I thought it would be to drive a Corvette across the country, coming to the rescue of sundry damsels in distress as I made pitstops along the way in towns inhabited by seriously damaged people. I had it in my head that I could grow up to be a modern day Lone Ranger, with Tonto, in the guise of Martin Milner or George Maharis at my side, depending on my mood. I’d save people’s wretched lives, and then with a wink and a hearty “Hi-yo, little blue Corvette!” and be off to my next hip adventure.

Even now, lifetimes removed from 1961 and black and white console TVs, a large part of me still likes to think it’s doable. After all, ‘Vettes actually have a bit of storage space in them now. I wouldn’t have to pack a full wardrobe in a couple of travel bags lashed to a miniscule luggage rack. I could store my formal wear in vacuum bags, and steam them when needed. And even in these tough economic times, I’d be able to find a temporary job in any field, regardless of experience—just long enough to mend a life, break a heart or two, eat in the best restaurants the town has to offer and buy gas for the Vette. Everywhere I’d stop, the local citizenry would understand that I’m just looking for meaning in American life, despite the dichotomy of searching for meaning in a brand new Corvette.

The point is, whether we’re five or fifty, or even 100, we have an inherent need to embrace the improbable, and mold it into our peculiar versions of reality. The DVD release Route 66: Season One, Volume Two reminded me how my version of America’s reality was shaped by television. I only received a four episode sampler for review purposes, but it was enough to make me realize its iconic importance in television, and its role in making the Corvette an automotive legend.

The premise of Route 66 was simple. After his father dies, Tod Stiles (Milner) inherits a Corvete, and little less. An All-American, and apparently college educated, he logically decides to drive cross-country with his best friend, Buzz Murdock (Maharis), a Hell’s Kitchen transplant with Beat Generation tendencies. Taking odd jobs to support themselves as they travel across America, they encounter various people who represent the various faces of America. In the process, they become almost non-characters. The stories in Route 66 revolved around the people Tod and Buzz meet, making the show a hybrid anthology/ character series, with unlimited dramatic possibilities.

Stirling Silliphant, the show’s creator and writer of most of the episodes, used the basic set-up to create episodes that played out as mini-movies designed to make a statement about the changing face of America as the sixties collided with earlier decades. Like Rod Serling, he was not above using overwrought dialogue to make his points. In Silliphant’s case, the voice of the Beat Generation seemed the voice of the future. He wasn’t far off-mark, considering Route 66 began in 1960 and ended, ironically enough, in 1964, just as the Beatles prepped the country for the next wave of youth.

Route 66 was shot entirely on location, almost unheard of at the time. As a result, it gives us an accurate snapshot of what America looked like nearly fifty years ago. Whether it was inhabited by such overtly dramatic characters as are portrayed in Route 66 is a matter of conjecture, I suppose. But if my childhood memories serve me well, it was. And if it wasn’t—well, that just adds another layer to the freewheeling mythos of America.

With Route 66: Season One, Volume Two, you don’t get a lot of extras beyond filmographies. You don’t need them. The story speaks for itself. The only complaint I have is it’s cropped to a 16:9 ratio, rather than presented in its original 4:3 format. Hopefully, this blunder will be rectified in future editions. Beyond that, this is a DVD that’s a worthy addition to any TV series collection.