Contrary to my comrade in critiquing old television shows, I found this to be a solid entry in the Cannon casefile. Compelling story, an exceptional cast of familiar players, and an imaginative twist on the old trope of embittered war vet murdering his old platoon one by one.
Yeah, there were some hokey moments. I thought the opening scene of the hapless hunter enjoying a thermos of coffee getting viciously attacked by a Doberman, followed by long, lingering shots of the coffee spilling from the thermos and running down the back of the car was ham-fisted symbolism for the blood spilled off camera. Okay, okay, we got it already.
But that was fast forgotten when the main players took the stage. Joel Fabiani, post-DEPARTMENT S and pre-DALLAS, engages Cannon to look into the dog attack deaths of two vets from his platoon. He shared how their CO sent them on a suicide mission from which only seven of 22 soldiers survived. Fabiani did a great job vividly describing what it was like to be under attack by the Viet Cong, so much firepower raining down upon them the trees were cracking. Resentful over the deaths of his friends, one of the survivors rolled a fragmentation grenade into the CO's tent, which left him a paraplegic. A soldier was sent to Leavenworth despite insisting he didn't do it. Lots of layers to this story--and lots of suspects with motives.
Cannon visits that paralyzed veteran, David Harrison, who lives with his brother and caretaker Kenny. Unable even to speak, David taps out yes and no answers for Cannon. The casting of Jim McMullan and Geoffrey Deuel was perfect. They had a real chemistry and were believable as brothers. McMullan deserves especial accolades for playing his part entirely from a wheelchair, never uttering a sound, but his expressive face spoke volumes. I loved the scene where David sees the padded sleeve used when training attack dogs and looks at Kenny. Jumpy and fast dissembling, Kenny says the shredded sleeve is for working with hot TV tubes. David simply continues to look at him--all he can do--and soon Kenny is blubbering the truth, how yes, he's killing the platoon for what they did to David. Both actors played that scene with polished aplomb.
I'll admit my mind leapt to wild conclusions, suspecting that David wasn't really paralyzed, and was at any moment going to speak or even step up from his chair to commit another killing. I was way wrong. I was also wrong in my idealistic assumption that Kenny was a well-meaning brother trying to avenge the fragging of David. It wasn't until Cannon called Kenny out for being selfishly motivated, resenting his brother and wanting out from being his caregiver did I see Kenny for what he really was--a vicious and merciless killer.
Let me walk back that snap judgment. In Kenny's defense, I believe he did love and care for David, and was embittered that the men in the platoon couldn't even bother to send David a Christmas card. In Kenny's mind, the platoon is collectively guilty for the fragging attack and paralysis of David (an attack that forced Kenny into the role of caregiver). There was a sincere even if misdirected motivation behind the murders.
Rounding out the small but solid cast were Nancy Priddy in a small role as Joel Fabiani's wife. In real life Priddy had a baby daughter at home: Christina Applegate, whose star was destined a decade or so hence to outshine her mother's. Ford Rainey played the father of the late Vince Taylor, a mean man with an even meaner dog (a fact testified to by Bill Zuckert as the local veterinarian).
Rainey really stood out as Mr. Taylor, the weather-beaten widowed farmer who lost his only son. Cannon played hardball with him and Rainey returned it in kind, leading Cannon on a short, dusty car chase that actually led to a heart-rending revelation that opened the door to an opportunity for redemption. Yes, admits Rainey, his son was the one behind the fragging attack on David, and he has the incriminating letter proving it. It was heartbreakingly hard for a father to admit his only son was no good. "I was ashamed," admitted Rainey. Cannon mustered what human feelings he could in response, but stone-faced and squinty-eyed Conrad just couldn't telegraph emotion as well as McMullen could.
Kenny's denouement played out well, with Cannon under attack by two vicious dogs, conveniently losing his gun (couldn't show Cannon gunning down dogs!), and being holed up in a shotgun shack. I thought the director struck a perfect balance between Cannon provoking a confession out of Kenny intercut with the barking dogs nosing their way into the shack through loose boards. Very suspenseful.
The epilogues in QM Productions usually serve to lift the mood after four acts and 45 minutes of gritty human depravity on display, and this episode's ending was no exception. With Kenny in jail awaiting trial, who will care for David? Off camera Cannon exercised Kissinger-quality diplomacy to convince Ford Rainey, the father of the man who fragged David, to welcome David into his home. Rainey and David hit it off immediately, and each wounded man knew here was their one chance to bring closure and healing to the other.
Okay, let's be honest: Who among us world-weary Seventies cop and detective show aficionados didn't choke up when David held the rabbit and smiled? (Oh, that tear in your eye was from sitting too close to the TV like Mom told you not to? Riiight.)
Yeah, there were some hokey moments. I thought the opening scene of the hapless hunter enjoying a thermos of coffee getting viciously attacked by a Doberman, followed by long, lingering shots of the coffee spilling from the thermos and running down the back of the car was ham-fisted symbolism for the blood spilled off camera. Okay, okay, we got it already.
But that was fast forgotten when the main players took the stage. Joel Fabiani, post-DEPARTMENT S and pre-DALLAS, engages Cannon to look into the dog attack deaths of two vets from his platoon. He shared how their CO sent them on a suicide mission from which only seven of 22 soldiers survived. Fabiani did a great job vividly describing what it was like to be under attack by the Viet Cong, so much firepower raining down upon them the trees were cracking. Resentful over the deaths of his friends, one of the survivors rolled a fragmentation grenade into the CO's tent, which left him a paraplegic. A soldier was sent to Leavenworth despite insisting he didn't do it. Lots of layers to this story--and lots of suspects with motives.
Cannon visits that paralyzed veteran, David Harrison, who lives with his brother and caretaker Kenny. Unable even to speak, David taps out yes and no answers for Cannon. The casting of Jim McMullan and Geoffrey Deuel was perfect. They had a real chemistry and were believable as brothers. McMullan deserves especial accolades for playing his part entirely from a wheelchair, never uttering a sound, but his expressive face spoke volumes. I loved the scene where David sees the padded sleeve used when training attack dogs and looks at Kenny. Jumpy and fast dissembling, Kenny says the shredded sleeve is for working with hot TV tubes. David simply continues to look at him--all he can do--and soon Kenny is blubbering the truth, how yes, he's killing the platoon for what they did to David. Both actors played that scene with polished aplomb.
I'll admit my mind leapt to wild conclusions, suspecting that David wasn't really paralyzed, and was at any moment going to speak or even step up from his chair to commit another killing. I was way wrong. I was also wrong in my idealistic assumption that Kenny was a well-meaning brother trying to avenge the fragging of David. It wasn't until Cannon called Kenny out for being selfishly motivated, resenting his brother and wanting out from being his caregiver did I see Kenny for what he really was--a vicious and merciless killer.
Let me walk back that snap judgment. In Kenny's defense, I believe he did love and care for David, and was embittered that the men in the platoon couldn't even bother to send David a Christmas card. In Kenny's mind, the platoon is collectively guilty for the fragging attack and paralysis of David (an attack that forced Kenny into the role of caregiver). There was a sincere even if misdirected motivation behind the murders.
Rounding out the small but solid cast were Nancy Priddy in a small role as Joel Fabiani's wife. In real life Priddy had a baby daughter at home: Christina Applegate, whose star was destined a decade or so hence to outshine her mother's. Ford Rainey played the father of the late Vince Taylor, a mean man with an even meaner dog (a fact testified to by Bill Zuckert as the local veterinarian).
Rainey really stood out as Mr. Taylor, the weather-beaten widowed farmer who lost his only son. Cannon played hardball with him and Rainey returned it in kind, leading Cannon on a short, dusty car chase that actually led to a heart-rending revelation that opened the door to an opportunity for redemption. Yes, admits Rainey, his son was the one behind the fragging attack on David, and he has the incriminating letter proving it. It was heartbreakingly hard for a father to admit his only son was no good. "I was ashamed," admitted Rainey. Cannon mustered what human feelings he could in response, but stone-faced and squinty-eyed Conrad just couldn't telegraph emotion as well as McMullen could.
Kenny's denouement played out well, with Cannon under attack by two vicious dogs, conveniently losing his gun (couldn't show Cannon gunning down dogs!), and being holed up in a shotgun shack. I thought the director struck a perfect balance between Cannon provoking a confession out of Kenny intercut with the barking dogs nosing their way into the shack through loose boards. Very suspenseful.
The epilogues in QM Productions usually serve to lift the mood after four acts and 45 minutes of gritty human depravity on display, and this episode's ending was no exception. With Kenny in jail awaiting trial, who will care for David? Off camera Cannon exercised Kissinger-quality diplomacy to convince Ford Rainey, the father of the man who fragged David, to welcome David into his home. Rainey and David hit it off immediately, and each wounded man knew here was their one chance to bring closure and healing to the other.
Okay, let's be honest: Who among us world-weary Seventies cop and detective show aficionados didn't choke up when David held the rabbit and smiled? (Oh, that tear in your eye was from sitting too close to the TV like Mom told you not to? Riiight.)
