The New Top Ten, #2: Maigret

The first time I saw Maigret on television, I was young and impressionable and didn't know the ways of the world. It was 1993, and Maigret was running on Mystery!, the anthology series on PBS. Michael Gambon was playing Maigret, and I suppose I was attracted to the series because I'd seen and liked Gambon in The Singing Detective a few years before; I'd never heard of the character Jules Maigret, the famous French detective created by Georges Simenon. (I'd never heard of Simenon either, for that matter.) 

The first thing that puzzled me was that Maigret and all the actors were speaking British English, with no French accent, and I found this tremendously disorienting. As I say, I was a naif when it came to things like this; I was used to American television, and wasn't familiar with the British practice of having actors speak naturally, without trying to put on phony accents, French or not. I kept checking to make sure this was set in France, and that they hadn't moved the action to England or something like that, and frankly it distracted me from following the stories. I can't even remember if I saw all of the episodes. Did I mention that I was also stupid back then?

The years passed, and while I didn't pursue Maigret any further—either the series or the books on which it was based—I didn't forget about it, either. When Rowan Atkinson took his turn as Maigret in 2016, I was intrigued—The Black Adder, you know; it seems as if I was always coming to Maigret through some other series the lead actor had appeared in—and recorded it with the intention of watching it later. Well, you know what they say about intentions; by the time we could have gotten to it, we'd moved, and I lost all the episodes that were on the DVR because we changed cable companies. Oh well; c'est la vie, as Maigret would have said.

But for some reason unknown to me, either then or now, I started looking into Maigret more seriously. I even caught an adaptation of a Maigret story that was produced on Studio One back in the early 1950s; "Stan, the Killer," it was. The actor playing Maigret (Romney Brent) didn't leave that much of an impression on me, which was understandable, I suppose, since Eli Wallach was the star. But—and here's what remains a mystery to me—I started researching various versions of Maigret, trying to find which version critics considered the definitive one, if such a thing existed. 

And that's how I stumbled onto Rupert Davies. Maigret had been played by many actors both in the movies and on television; even Charles Laughton took his turn, as the first English-language Maigret. Bruno Cremer played him in the 1990s into the early 2000s and those were well-reviewed, but the versions online didn't have subtitles, and since they were all in French, they were useless to me. But the Davies version—almost everyone with an opinion thought his was the best, or one of the best. Georges Simenon himself said, "At last, I have found the perfect Maigret!" Well, that was good enough for me. Davies had played Maigret on the BBC for four seasons, from 1960 to 1963, and, remarkably for the Beeb, all 52 episodes still existed.  And eventually, as so often happens if you're willing to be patient and keep your eyes open, the series popped up on YouTube and the Internet Archives. (It's also on DVD, but it ain't cheap.)

By this time I'd gotten to know the character a little better. I still hadn't read any of Simenon's books—that would come later—but I was familiar enough with him to know that Maigret was no knuckle-dragging savage, of which no better example exists than Law & Order: SVU's Elliot Stabler; or a smart-ass know-it-all, as in every investigator who's ever appeared on NCIS. He's a shrewd judge of character, puffing on his ever-present pipe with a world-weariness offset by wry good humor, and a blunt, direct style of questioning; he's able to sense when things don't add up, skeptical when the pieces fall into place too easily, and not easily fooled. He's also experienced in the human condition, with an ability to look beyond the surface, and an unwillingness to condemn people based on imperfections in their past lives. 

Indeed, the impression that Davies-as-Maigret gives off is an overwhelming sense of humanity; he displays a particular ability to put himself in place of the victim and see where it leads him, which imbues in him an extraordinary sensitivity toward those he investigates. Even the satisfaction of solving a case comes with a particular cloud, for he knows that when he wins, someone loses his liberty, or his life. People complain that I'm too soft on criminals, he notes in one episode, but unlike the magistrates and prosecutors—bureaucrats, Maigret dismissively views them—he lives in the world of crime, and understands the human drama that plays out within. 

In her essay, "Maigret's Law," sociologist Susan S. Silbey notes that "Maigret is a believer in sociological justice [who] works to repair the torn fabric of social relations to recompose the troubled lives that end in murder." Oftentimes, "he arranges outcomes in which the guilty person feels the need to confess, or to execute their own punishment." While the bureaucrats are eager to categorize and name everything as soon as they come across it, Maigret "simply lets it register; the sorting, the understanding comes later." But then, to the bureaucrats, crime is a form waiting to be filled out, "'satisfied that [they] had done [their] duty' if they named the rules and issued notices, willing to let others do the work." For Maigret, the human element is never far from the surface; perhaps it remains there all the time, in plain sight for those like Maigret who understand it. Is this what is so often missing from American police stories? Perhaps. . .

If all this sounds terribly dense, as if one needs an advanced degree of some kind to enjoy it, forget it. The 52 episodes, all taken from the Simenon's fantastic oeuvre—he wrote 75 Maigret novels, and 28 short stories—do an impressive job of condensing the often-complex narratives into 50-minute timeslots. The cases are always interesting and the outcomes not always predictable, but the pleasure is in watching Maigret solve them—and it is a real pleasure.

What else? The location shots, all done in France, the music, and the use of colloquial French terms throughout—Maigret is always referred to by his subordinates as patron, or chief—establish the setting admirably; no concerns here that the actors don't speak with French accents! The supporting cast is led by Ewen Solon as Maigret's loyal number two, Lucas, a man with the unique ability to combine cynicism and good humor; Neville Jason as young Lapointe and Victor Lucas as muscular Torrence round out Maigret's closest associates. Helen Shingler plays Maigret's devoted wife Louise, who understands him all-too-well; as a couple, they compliment each other perfectly, and Maigret himself knows he would be an incomplete man without her.

In the end, it was very easy to come to the conclusion that Maigret should be part of the new Top Ten. I was sold on it from the first episode. There was a warmth I felt toward him—toward both the character and the actor, really; that warmth being a reciprocation of the warmth which emanates from Rupert Davies himself as he projects Maigret's inner humanity and desire for justice. Indeed, as I look through this, I find that I might have used the word "justice" many more times than I have, since justice is the unifying aspect that joins Maigret to so many of my favorite characters on television: the justice that Judd seeks for his clients, the justice that Dr. Baxter searches for in the diagnoses of his patients, the justice that is (seemingly) unattainable for Dr. Richard Kimble, the justice that is an overriding concern for the Doctor as he travels in his Tardis. And why not; the dictionary tells us that "justice" comes from the Old French justitia, which in its Latin root meant "righteousness and equity." It's a companion to the Latin justus, meaning "upright and just." The well-drawn character can demonstrate such justice, but it requires the actor to bring it out, to project it on the screen.

There had to be a reason, after all, why Simenon considered Rupert Davies the "perfect" Maigret. And while there are other Maigret stories to be told, other actors to play him and other series to watch, he'll always be Maigret to me. TV  

The live Top Ten

Time flies. It was ten years ago that I prepared my Top Ten list that's been residing over there on the sidebar. Most of those shows had been part of my informal top ten, the one I kept in my head, for years, and given my disinclination to watch contemporary television, there was no particular reason to think those choices would be changing any time soon. 

Recently, though, I've been thinking. (Granted, that's often cause for alarm among you readers, but it's a habit I've had trouble breaking.) Ten years is a long time, and while it’s true the classic era of television (which encompasses most of the shows on that list) is long since over, that doesn’t mean I’m done discovering classics that are new to me; indeed, thanks to the wonders of YouTube and the Internet Archive, I probably have more access to unseen shows from the 1950s through the 1970s than ever before. And so it sees to me that it’s about time for a reappraisal—or perhaps, using today's industry lingo, I should call it a "reboot."

This first list is one made up of shows that have been my favorites over the last year or so. Think of it as a "live" list—in other words, (spoiler alert!) while The Prisoner will always be one of my all-timers, it's been a few years since I've watched it. Therefore, it wouldn't make a list of current favorites. Conversely, there are shows that I really enjoy right now, but when they're stacked up against the rest, they might fall just outside the top ten. That's not a knock on them; it just shows how tough it is to crack that list. Later on in the year, I'll be introducing an all-new all-time Top Ten. I wouldn't expect too many changes if I were you, but it will definitely have some additions, not to mention revised comments on some of the shows that remain. 

Having already gone on altogether too long, I'll now get to the point with two legal dramas that rise to the top of the list: Judd, for the Defense and Sam Benedict. I reviewed Sam Benedict just a couple of weeks ago, while I shared my feelings for Judd last year. Each of them represent a welcome break from the formulaic Perry Mason; while Mason is still a favorite, the Perry/Della/Paul triangle gets old after a time, while Hamilton Burger's incompetence remains beyond comprehension. Both Judd and Benedict give us what is probably a more realistic look at the high-octane life of a big-time trial lawyer. It's also quite a different view of the legal system, though; for example, in one case Sam gets his client acquitted, but we never find out who actually did commit the crime. That's not Sam's job, though; he was hired to ensure justice for his client, and that's what he did. 

Both men share a passion for that concept, justice, which causes them to occasionally take cases against their better judgment, representing unpopular causes or defending people they don't like—but, as Clinton Judd reminds us, everyone is entitled to a fair trial, even those with whom you might not agree, and what's popular is not always what's right. (By the way, it's also nice to see clients who behave like real people, with well thought-out backstories, rather than the cartoonish caricatures that too often comprise the Mason universe.) Our heroes aren't assured of winning, either; a couple of Judd's cases go to the jury without us ever finding out the verdict, while one of Benedict's clients turns out to be guilty, and another is only saved from a long prison term by a plea deal that Sam arranges for him. We may not be used to seeing that, but it's a fact of life, and in these stories the casees were just background; there was something much more fundamental at stake, which is what the stories were actually about. These shows have hard edges and deal with hard issues, and they've both earned top places on this list.  

Also on the list, and this won't come as any surprise to longtime readers, is Mystery Science Theater 3000. As many times as I've seen some of these movies, there's invariably a riff or two that I hadn't caught before, or one that just hits me the right way; along with the original British version of Top Gear, it's one of the few shows that actually makes me laugh out loud. I've gained a real appreciation for the various casts that appeared on the show over the years, particularly the dry wit of Mike Nelson, the voice talents of Trace Beaulieu, and the offbeat riffs from J. Elvis Weinstein, who started on the show when MST3K was just a local program in the Twin Cities, and stayed for the first year of its national run. (I remember seeing the very first MST3K, a double-feature that aired on a Thanksgiving evening, and was a fan from the start.) I also learned how a bad serial like Radar Men from the Moon can be that entertaining.

There are a couple of war dramas on the list as well. I took on Garrison's Gorillas here, and followed it up with the show that succeeded it on our schedule, Combat! Garrison's Gorillas is action-adventure at its finest, with a very good ensemble cast (as opposed to, say, The Rat Patrol) and entertaining stories; at the same time, it never forgets (nor lets you forget) that war is no game, and it's fought for the highest possible stakes. That's a message that's driven home relentlessly in Combat!, which is not only perhaps the best war drama ever seen on television, but one of its best dramas period. Its well-drawn characters and literate plots give us a graphic look at the horrors of war; it makes those of us who never fought profoundly grateful for our good fortune, and even more appreciative of those who have. If you're not anti-war after watching Combat!, you haven't been paying attention.

The British police series Maigret, starring Rupert Davies, got my treatment here, and my enjoyment of it continues to increase each week. Davies's portrayal of the famous French detective is spot-on, capturing the world-weariness and hard edge of the character perfectly, while also portraying his warmth and good humor, seen both with his wife and his colleagues. Maigret is shrewd, intuitative, and, in contrast to most American police dramas, demonstrates both respect and empathy for many of the accused that he investigates, including some that he arrests; "Some people criticize me for being too sympathetic," he comments in one episode. American detectives would probably accuse him of being soft; they fail to understand what humanity is all about, primarily because they've already lost their own.

The Twilight Zone is already on the Top Ten list, but it's been many years since I've given the series a proper look, and my new BluRay set has been the perfect excuse to start watching it again from the very beginning, with spotless and uncut episodes. It's provided me with a reminder of how brilliant the show's first season is; I wonder what people thought back in 1959 when they were seeing these episodes for the first time? We can look it up, of course; there's been a plethoria of material written about the show. Still, it's interesting to see how well those first season episodes reflect the tenor of the times: several early stories depicting military themes (how many men back then would have found these settings familiar; after all, it was what they'd experienced), while others involve man's quest for space, or just a general unease with the modern world. Add to that a layer of the unexplainable, and it's hard to top.

My relationship with Twin Peaks remains an ambiguous one, in light of a brilliant premiere episode, a solid first season, and a disastrous second one. I'm in the midst of watching Twin Peaks: The Return right now (six episodes in), and I'll write it up when it's over. But right now I'm at a point where each week's episode is highly anticipated, if for no other reason than to see if things begin to make sense. Bit by bit some pieces of the story come together each week, but there's a long way to go. Still, when you're dealing with David Lynch, you either trust him or you don't, and The Return has still paid off in a way that season two never quite managed. Besides, remember how I said this was a live list? Well, I look forward to it each week, and if that doesn't earn a show a spot on the list, what does? We'll see if it's still there the next time we try this little experiment.

Hawaiian Eye is probably the third-best of the WB detective dramas, behind 77 Sunset Strip and the underrated Bourbon Street Beat, and the quality of episodes varies wildly, but in a TV diet that, at the moment, is a very intense one, it's the kind of show that you can relax and watch, knowing you don't have to listen carefully for the smallest verbal clue, react to the injustice you see on the screen, or wince once again at man's inhumanity to man. You just watch it and accept it for what it is, and believe me, there's a lot to be said for that. I first wrote about it here, and since then Grant Williams has joined the cast; he doesn't really add anything to the show, but he doesn't hurt it either. Otherwise, the only changes I'd make to what I said then are that I've come to enjoy Anthony Eisley much more—I might have mischaracterized him as being stiff back then, and he's grown on me since; I'll miss him when he leaves the show for the final season—and Connie Stevens is starting to get on my nerves. Her Cricket Blake character keeps complaining that she's not treated like a grown-up, but for my money she doesn't give us any reason to think otherwise. Hopefully, as it is with so many immature people, it's just a phase.

Finally, I wrote about Burke's Law just recently; there's a reason why we're watching the series again from the very start. It's as charming now as it was the first time, and with the passage of time there's still some mystery as to whodunnit; what more can you ask for in an encore showing? It's the perfect Saturday-night compliment to a movie from the Criterion Channel that's often intensity ramped up to eleven on the dial. (Have you ever watched Japanese noir? Try it sometime.)

As I mentioned, I'll have a complete revised Top Ten later in the year, but looking at it in real time has been an interesting exercise. Maybe we'll do it again sometime. TV  

What I've been watching: special British edition

Shows I’ve Watched:	Shows I've Added:
The Man in Room 17	One Step Beyond
Maigret Public Eye Man of the World

When last we visited this feature, you'll recall, I was recovering from a crisis of confidence in my ability to successfully pick TV shows to watch. There were consequences to be dealt with after the fact, though; one doesn't come through an ordeal like that without leaving some scar tissue.  

My decision to temporarily shelve Alfred Hitchcock Presents left a four-night hole in our television viewing, and there was still some apprehension on my part about choosing the replacement. Rather than play it safe, I decided to go for broke; not one, but four shows would take Hitchcock's place: furthermore, all of them would be an hour in length, and to top it off, they were all British series from the early-to mid-1960s. I'm happy to report that these changes have made for a mostt satisfying result to the TV crisis, so let's take a look at this latest version of Britian's Fab Four.

Michael Aldrich (left) and Richard Vernon

For Monday night, I chose The Man in Room 17, a quirky 1965-67 mystery series from Granada TV, starring Richard Vernon and Michael Aldridge as, respectively, Edwin Oldenshaw and Ian Dimmock*, criminologists working for the British Department of Social Research in the top-secret Room 17 (a room so secure it has a double-door entrance; nobody can enter without being let in). Their job is to assist the authorities in solving difficult cases, often involving sensitive political or diplomatic issues. The gimmick: they never leave Room 17; instead, they solve the cases through intuition and research, issuing instructions to various contacts (official and otherwise) after a thorough analysis of the situation.

*Due to illness, Michael Aldrige is replaced in the second season by Denholm Elliot as the similarly-monogrammed Imlac Defraits; the reason for this obsession with initials will be explained in due course.

Oldenshaw and Dimmock undertake their assignments (provided they choose to accept them) with rapid-fire erudition and caustic wit, as well as total distain for their internal liaison, the bumptious and easily flustered Sir Geoffrey Norton (Willoughby Goddard). As one critic puts it, "Giving them orders would be an exercise in futility since they’d only ignore them anyway." When we come upon them, they're invariably engaged either in drinking tea, reading the newspaper, or playing the board game Go (the show's opening credits utilize the game's black and white stones as the motif). Each assignment is treated as an irritating intrusion, but they soon become wrapped up in the outcome—not so much because they want to defeat their adversary, but rather to prove they were right all along.

Some viewers might find the duo a little hard to take at times, with their air of condescension and superiority; Oldenshaw, in particular, can be acidly cynical about the government's involvement in these situations in the first place. They don't strike me that way, though; they're quirky, original characters, that you'll warm to, and their cases never fail to interest us—even when they don't interest them.

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I consider myself fortunate to have found Rupert Davies's version of Maigret for Tuesday nights. Many actors have assumed the role of Georges Simenon's famous French police detective, including Michael Gambon and Rowan Atkinson, and while Gambon's excellent interpretation is probably the best-known, but for my money the definitive interpretation belongs to Davies, who played Maigret for four seasons between 1960 and 1963; among those who share my opinion is Simenon himself, who, upon meeting Davies for the first time, shouted, "At last, I have found the perfect Maigret!"

The exterior scenes in Maigret were filmed on location in Paris, lending an appropriate touch given that all of the actors are clearly British and make no attempt whatsoever to suggest any kind of French accents (a trait shared by all other British versions of the series*). That can be disconcerting at first, especially since French terms—monsieur and mademoiselle, oui, merci, patron (boss)—are sprinkled throughout the series. It doesn't take long, however, to get into the swing of things, thanks to well-written stories, an excellent supporting cast (Neville Jason and Victor Lucas as Maigret's colleagues, and Helen Shingler as his loving wife), and the performance of Davies himself.

*By contrast, if Maigret was adapted for American televsion, they'd simply relocate the series to New York or Los Angeles, change everyone's name, and lose all of the charm in the process.

As Maigret, Davies infuses the character with shrewdness and intuition, a world-weariness offset by wry good humor, and a blunt, direct style of questioning; he has a particular ability to put himself in place of the victim and see where it leads him, and a determination to get there. Unlike, say, Oldenshaw and Dimmock, he also projects a warmth and humanity unusual in most serious police dramas. He can be tough when necessary, and isn't above slapping around someone who deserves it, but it's so unexpected when it happens that it underscores Maigret's dedication to finding the truth. He's honest, loyal to his colleagues, and devoted to his wife. The cases are always interesting and the outcomes not always predictable, but the real pleasure is in watching Maigret solve them—and it is a real pleasure.

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Not all private detectives are as suave as Peter Gunn, as tough as Mike Hammer, or as ready with a quip as Richard Diamond. Some of them are just hard workers, like Frank Marker, the title character of Public Eye, which aired on ABC Weekend TV and Thames Television from 1965 to 1975, and runs on Wednesday nights for me. As played by Alfred Burke, Marker is the prototypical private detective: a loner, cynical and world-weary, working out of a shabby, cramped office, taking on whatever cases come his way. 

Public Eye makes clear that the business of being an "enquiry agent" is hardly glamorous; there are no car chases, no shootouts, no romances with beautiful, mysterious clients, and very few flying fists; his cases range from divorce actions to missing persons, what we're left with is Marker wearing out shoe leather, assuming various identities in order to ask lots of questions, and arriving at what is often an ambivalent conclusion to the case. In the case of the missing girl, nothing really changes at the end: Marker tracks her to an organized crime gang, where she has become a high-priced prostitute. She refuses his offer of help, thinking she has the leverage to take care of herself. She doesn't, of course, but she only finds this out too late, by which time Marker himself has been threatened off the case, forcing him to relocate from London to Birmingham. By the end of the third season, when Marker is betrayed by his client and winds up in prison after being convicted of receiving stolen property. The fourth season begins with him being released on parole, and having to accustom himself to life outside prison, his relationship with his landlady, and return to investigating. 

Public Eye's long and successful run, and its status as a much-loved show of the past, can be attributed to the partnership of creator/writer Roger Marshall, and the performance of Burke. Burke is excellent in his portrayal of a three-dimensional, low-key hero who brings a sense of dignity to a quest for justice that often remains unfulfilled; while Marshall's stories are often downbeat and thought-provoking, frequently failing to provide neat and clean solutions to scenarios that don't wrap themselves up nicely at the end of the hour. Working together, the two give us a look at the moody, atmospheric world of England in the 1960s and 1970s, a world where the truth is elusive and there are no easy answers

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Speaking as we were of Peter Gunn, two of the men who made that series so memorable—Craig Stevens and Henry Mancini—reunite for Man of the World, the 1962-63 ITC drama that provides a perfect conclusion to this quartet of programs. Stevens is charming, smooth, and in control—in short, everything you'd expect him to be—as Michael Strait, a world-famous American photojournalist who travels around the world on his boat, covering stories big and small, accompanied by his lovely and resourceful assistant Maggie MacFarland (Tracy Reed), who's become quite used to her boss's duties bringing him out from behind the camera lens. Throw in Mancini's elegant opening theme, and you're all set for an hour of globetrotting glamour and adventure.

You wouldn't necessarily think that beng a photographer would be so dramatic, not to mention dangerous (it's a lot safer operating a studio in a busy storefront), but Strait obviously thrives on it, often taking on assignments for intelligence agencies in locales such as West Berlin, Vietnam, and Cuba, using his photographic skills to provide cover for obtaining information on various threats to the free world. And when he's not involved in high-stakes geopolitics, he's dealing with millionaire clients, mysterious heiresses, and ruthless killers. I guess it does beat working for a portrait studio. One early episode, "The Sentimental Agent," serves as a backdoor pilot for the later series of the same name, starring Carlos Thompson as an import-export agent who, for the right prices, is willing to undertake assignments as far removed from his business as, well, photography is for Strait. In this case, he's recruited by Maggie to rescue Strait from a Cuban prison after Michael's been caught taking pictures of the wrong person. Does he succeed?  C'mon, it's only the sixth episode; what do you think?

If you think Man of the World sounds as if it bears a passing resemblance to shows like The Saint and The Baron, you're absolutely correct. It also comes from an era when Lew Grade, the head of ITC, was convinced that casting an American star was the way to crack the U.S. market, a la The Avengers and The Saint. It didn't work, which is why this series might not be familiar to more of you. And while it doesn't have the dash and success that the latter two series had, it's certainly a pleasant way to spend an hour. Best of all, it won't leave you second-guessing your viewing choices—like some series we could name. TV