Police Woman: The Complete 1st Season (DVD)
APPROX. 1098 MINS. - PROD. YEAR: 1974 - MPA RATING: NR
" Despite the realism, everything is so 'on-story' that it feels one-note, with characters as down-to-business and one-dimensional as the plots.
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The '70s were a golden age for TV sitcoms, but crime dramas weren't all that far behind. The decade saw a record number of police and detective shows, including the first starring dramatic role for a woman. And in 1974, when "Police Woman" premiered, headliner Angie Dickinson was one "Big Bad Mama." The same year that Dickinson was beamed up on the big screen with William Shatner in that B-movie action flick, she became part of America's Friday late-night routine as "Pepper" Anderson, an older-than-usual (but still sexy) police academy graduate who moves up to a spot on the vice squad in the L.A. area.
The former beauty contest winner got her break in "Rio Bravo" but seemed destined for eye candy and window dressing roles. Watching her now in the series created by former cop Joseph Wambaugh, you can really appreciate how hard she worked here to prove she was a serious dramatic actress. Like an Olympic skater muscling a landing on a triple Salchow, she tries to sell even the inevitable hokey lines that come with the TV territory. And because Wambaugh was behind it, and not those kings of camp Aaron Spelling and Leonard Goldberg, she even had a fighting chance. Moreso than with those trademark '70s big hair-dos and mod clothes that look so laughable now.
Yes, it's dated now and some of the dialogue and situations are cheesy, but compared to other cop shows back then, the first season of "Police Woman" emphasized gritty realism—a level of violence and presentation of frank topics that will probably make viewers today go wow, in amazement that they could televise that on the networks back then. In fact, after the first season, with its grisly murders and rapes and point-blank violence and sexuality, they did tone it down a bit. Ironically, the first season of "Police Woman" was also the best received. A curious public warmed to it, and the show finished at #15 in the Nielsen's. But pressure to tone it down came, and the second season, blander by comparison, the show finished way down in the #30 slot. After that, Pepper & Co. dropped off the radar screen, and the show's run ended in 1978.
Feminists must have been torn between applauding or grabbing protest signs. On the one hand, a woman was finally given top billing in a crime drama and shown working in a dangerous profession where she was accepted by the all-male club. On the other hand, there are many shows where she feels like an ensemble player, and as Dickinson and Holliman quip on one of their episode commentaries, it seemed as if Pepper was always in need of rescuing. We won't event talk about some of the skimpy, sex-sells outfits. So what's new? And she wasn't so much an investigator as she was the bait.
As an undercover officer, Pepper plays a hooker, a gambler's good-luck charm, a stewardess, a stripper, a high school gym teacher, a housewife, and just about every imaginable role a woman might fill—all in an attempt to catch the bad guys. Helping her is her immediate boss, Sgt. Crowley (Earl Holliman) and two guys that look like they could have come from the set of "Starsky and Hutch," African-American detective Joe Styles and mod-dressing, brush-mustachioed "hip" white guy, Det. Pete Royster (Charles Dierkop). Val Bisoglio also appeared regularly the first season as Lt. Paul Marsh. The writing isn't bad, but the plots are the show's strength—which is something you might expect from Wambaugh, who was also responsible for bringing his novels "The Blue Knight" and "Police Story" to TV and "The Onion Field" to the big screen. In fact, the pilot for "Police Woman" aired as an episode of "Police Story." But the writers don't do banter very well. It's stiff, token, and about as engaging as your local newscasters trying to tease each other. The funniest moment in the series comes in the pilot, actually, when a high-rolling illegal casino operator looks into Dickinson's eyes and sings "The Look of Love"—hilarious not just because it's so dumb and cheesy, but because Dickinson was separated from then-husband Burt Bacharach, who composed the hit song.
Though "Police Woman" was obviously intended to be realistic, it's a one-note sort of realism that applies to the type of cases and depiction of violence. There are precious few believable sideplots and just as little in the way of discussions about anything other than the case at hand. True realism will encompass even the banal moments of a cop's day and the disjunction that comes from fighting crime while also worrying about how to get the money to pay for your son's first year of college, or wondering what you can do to help little Jimmy with his falling grades. Yes, Pepper has a sister in an institution whom she visits, but those scenes are as superficial as those baby-kissing politician photo-ops. And while Dickinson is better than in most of the roles people would have seen her in, her character just doesn't carry the show the way Jack Lord did "Hawaii Five-O" or James Garner did in "The Rockford Files." In fact, if you start making comparisons to shows like that, "Police woman" suffers. The acting isn't as strong, the plots aren't as complex and embracing of the total life experience, and the lines don't seem as scripted.
