The overarching story of this miniseries is a very loose adaptation of the Thalia Massie case, which took place in Hawaii in that period before WWII and eventually statehood when unfounded accusations of a heinous rape was used as a defense to a charge of homicide, inflaming racial tensions between native Hawaiians and the rich "haoles" who sat pridefully atop the economic and social systems in the former Sandwich Islands.
Four young Hawaiian men are enjoying their time off from their jobs as laborers on a vast sugar cane plantation owned by a rich and influential white man who is a part of the power structure. They spend some time at the beach, drinking beer and skinny dipping. And then they pile into a car belonging to the sister of one of the men and head off to a party where they hope to meet some girls. En route, they stumble upon a brutally beaten young woman - naked, bleeding profusely, and barely coherent. They would prefer not to have anything to do with her; it is dangerous for a native man to have anything to do with a white woman unless she is his employer, and even then, he is expected to be obsequious. But one of the young men takes pity on the young woman and insists that they take her to the local hospital, where they nervously deposit her and quickly leave. They are unaware that she is not just any young haole woman. She is Hester Murdoch (Madeline Stowe), the daughter of Doris Ashley (Jane Alexander), the rich, cold, imperious "Empress" of the local Pacific Heights white community, living in regal comfort on an estate so splendid, it has a name - Windward. Hester has been recently married to a naval officer - Lieutenant Lloyd Murdoch (William Russ) - but she is in love with, and unfortunately about three months pregnant by, Lloyd's fellow officer and best friend, Bryce Parker, who is not about to let a marital scandal ruin his chances for promotion. When Hester refuses to consider an abortion, he is the one who beats her senseless and leaves her by the side of the road. Doris Ashley detests Bryce Parker, but she is determined not to have any sordid scandal threaten her social position. Using a combination of cajoling and intimidation, she forces her daughter to accuse the four young native Hawaiian men of brutally raping her, and with that as the circumstance under which a "therapeutic" abortion is legal, she eliminates any evidence of her daughter's extramarital affair.
This is the central plot around which the action takes place. Doris Ashley's initial antagonist is a captain in the Honolulu Police Department named Curtis Maddox (Kris Kristofferson). He is the one who arrests the young men and takes them into custody following Doris Ashley's accusation on her daughter's behalf. There is no question that the two women would have to do something so outlandish as to come to the police station; Maddow brings the accused men to the hospital to be confronted and identified. Maddox is played by Kristofferson as one of the moody, aloof loners that he does so well. Maddox has problems of his own as one of the ordinary resentful white civil servant types who rank above the natives, class-wise, but who serve at the pleasure of the people at the top. His boss, Commander Fairly, is a political hack who makes his life miserable. He has an existing relationship with a waitress at a local diner, but she's about had it with him because he really isn't capable of commitment. Maddox isn't particularly concerned about the plight of the young men, but he is so disgusted by his own cavalier treatment at the hands of Doris Ashley, he has a bit more incentive to put a spoke in her wheel with respect to the rape case. Ashley's other antagonist is Tom, a young, educated native who is just starting out in his practice of law. He volunteers for the pro bono work of defending the accused young men. His stature grows as he gains confidence, but in the midst of the trial, Lt. Murdoch -- enraged by Tom's dogged questioning of Hester and by the firm denial of guilt by the principal defendant -- pulls out a gun and shoots the defendant at point blank range, killing him instantly. That act ends Part 1.
In Part 2, the rich haoles, believing that their continuing dominance hinges on an acquittal of Murdoch based on an unwritten law that a man has the right to defend his wife's honor, decide to bring in Walter Bergman (Jose Ferrar), an elderly but brilliant lawyer based upon Clarence Darrow, who in fact did act as defense in the Massie case. It was his last case. Bergman accepts the assignment for a hefty fee and brings with him his beautiful young wife, Lenore (Sean Young). Their relationship seems a good deal more paternal than marital (and in fact, in one of the departures from the original script, of which I have a copy, Bergman, who is a widower in the script, is characterized in the miniseries as never having been married). The restless young wife encounters the loner policeman, who is clearly smitten, and before long they are engaged in a hot affair, which they mistakenly believe that the husband does not know.
Ultimately, the rich power brokers do not succeed, primarily because Hester Murdoch does not have the ability to emulate her ruthless mother. She cannot sustain the pretense. During Bergman's summary remarks, she breaks down and screams that the young men are innocent. Her husband is duly convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to ten years. After she and her mother are arrested by Maddox on the grounds of perjury and conspiracy, Hester commits suicide, hanging herself in the shower - unable to live with her guilt over aborting her baby. Lawyer Bergman, apparently playing quite manipulatively with his wife's sense of duty and loyalty, has her agree to end the affair with the policeman and return with him to Washington, D. C. and their life there. Our last glimpse of the police captain is standing alone on the quay watching the woman he loves sail out of his life. And then the credits roll.
That's the plot is a rather tight nutshell, leaving out many characters and interrelated subplots which fill the four hours air time with some good acting, pre-war atmosphere. And food for thought concerning racism. The miniseries was pretty well-received by both the critics and the viewing public. However, there were a number of critics who thought the love affair between the cop and the wife was contrived and superfluous. I disagree. I think the inclusion in the script of a love affair between the two humanized the policeman, who was a bit on the cold side. And the casting of the beautiful Sean Young as Lenore gave us a tender portrait of a young woman suddenly discovering that her sheltered life has a bird-in-the-gilded cage quality. The initial script has Lenore crying out to her manipulative husband, who has purchased tickets for that very day without telling her, "But I love him." It is painful to watch those hopes and dreams quashed.
Except I'm not buying it. The script implies that the two lovers are equally distraught over the ending of their idyll - that the emotional exhaustion in the eyes of the man left behind on the pier is matched by the tremulous-on-the-edge-of-tears demeanor of the luminous Lenore on the upper deck. They are equally heartbroken. I don't believe it for a minute. I think the lovely Lenore has used the policeman. Whatever passion she may actually have had for him is more than overshadowed by her desire to remain Mrs. Walter Bergman, standing there in her smart, stylishly expensive clothes (complete with a fur piece). Our hero may actually have provided her first awakening to the possibilities; she may actually have been "made new" as she claims. If so, I don't think he will be the last. Maddox himself seems to almost understand this. When Bergman confronts him in his office, taunting him as being only a "hick flatfoot," Maddox says "if it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else." Bergman may have been in the beginning moments of a diabetic coma, but he is a wily, determined man who clearly views his wife as one of his possessions. He makes it clear "I'm not giving her up." So the series is not just about racism. It's about class as well. Although I think the cop is honestly devastated by the loss, he has gained something from the experience. He has discovered that he himself is capable of passion - something that was not particularly apparent before. And he has told off his rich "mentor," - defying his oppressors with integrity and courage. He is in a better place.
It was a good miniseries - a cut above usual television fare. There are a few duds in the cast - Lloyd Murdoch (who seems too listless to have done something so momentous as to kill someone is open court), and Commander Fairly (Maddox's awful boss) - but others, such as the dynamic and lyrical Princess, are exceptional even in small parts (the look that the Princess gives Doris Ashley as she passes her on her way to a seat in the courtroom, could strip paint).
Four young Hawaiian men are enjoying their time off from their jobs as laborers on a vast sugar cane plantation owned by a rich and influential white man who is a part of the power structure. They spend some time at the beach, drinking beer and skinny dipping. And then they pile into a car belonging to the sister of one of the men and head off to a party where they hope to meet some girls. En route, they stumble upon a brutally beaten young woman - naked, bleeding profusely, and barely coherent. They would prefer not to have anything to do with her; it is dangerous for a native man to have anything to do with a white woman unless she is his employer, and even then, he is expected to be obsequious. But one of the young men takes pity on the young woman and insists that they take her to the local hospital, where they nervously deposit her and quickly leave. They are unaware that she is not just any young haole woman. She is Hester Murdoch (Madeline Stowe), the daughter of Doris Ashley (Jane Alexander), the rich, cold, imperious "Empress" of the local Pacific Heights white community, living in regal comfort on an estate so splendid, it has a name - Windward. Hester has been recently married to a naval officer - Lieutenant Lloyd Murdoch (William Russ) - but she is in love with, and unfortunately about three months pregnant by, Lloyd's fellow officer and best friend, Bryce Parker, who is not about to let a marital scandal ruin his chances for promotion. When Hester refuses to consider an abortion, he is the one who beats her senseless and leaves her by the side of the road. Doris Ashley detests Bryce Parker, but she is determined not to have any sordid scandal threaten her social position. Using a combination of cajoling and intimidation, she forces her daughter to accuse the four young native Hawaiian men of brutally raping her, and with that as the circumstance under which a "therapeutic" abortion is legal, she eliminates any evidence of her daughter's extramarital affair.
This is the central plot around which the action takes place. Doris Ashley's initial antagonist is a captain in the Honolulu Police Department named Curtis Maddox (Kris Kristofferson). He is the one who arrests the young men and takes them into custody following Doris Ashley's accusation on her daughter's behalf. There is no question that the two women would have to do something so outlandish as to come to the police station; Maddow brings the accused men to the hospital to be confronted and identified. Maddox is played by Kristofferson as one of the moody, aloof loners that he does so well. Maddox has problems of his own as one of the ordinary resentful white civil servant types who rank above the natives, class-wise, but who serve at the pleasure of the people at the top. His boss, Commander Fairly, is a political hack who makes his life miserable. He has an existing relationship with a waitress at a local diner, but she's about had it with him because he really isn't capable of commitment. Maddox isn't particularly concerned about the plight of the young men, but he is so disgusted by his own cavalier treatment at the hands of Doris Ashley, he has a bit more incentive to put a spoke in her wheel with respect to the rape case. Ashley's other antagonist is Tom, a young, educated native who is just starting out in his practice of law. He volunteers for the pro bono work of defending the accused young men. His stature grows as he gains confidence, but in the midst of the trial, Lt. Murdoch -- enraged by Tom's dogged questioning of Hester and by the firm denial of guilt by the principal defendant -- pulls out a gun and shoots the defendant at point blank range, killing him instantly. That act ends Part 1.
In Part 2, the rich haoles, believing that their continuing dominance hinges on an acquittal of Murdoch based on an unwritten law that a man has the right to defend his wife's honor, decide to bring in Walter Bergman (Jose Ferrar), an elderly but brilliant lawyer based upon Clarence Darrow, who in fact did act as defense in the Massie case. It was his last case. Bergman accepts the assignment for a hefty fee and brings with him his beautiful young wife, Lenore (Sean Young). Their relationship seems a good deal more paternal than marital (and in fact, in one of the departures from the original script, of which I have a copy, Bergman, who is a widower in the script, is characterized in the miniseries as never having been married). The restless young wife encounters the loner policeman, who is clearly smitten, and before long they are engaged in a hot affair, which they mistakenly believe that the husband does not know.
Ultimately, the rich power brokers do not succeed, primarily because Hester Murdoch does not have the ability to emulate her ruthless mother. She cannot sustain the pretense. During Bergman's summary remarks, she breaks down and screams that the young men are innocent. Her husband is duly convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to ten years. After she and her mother are arrested by Maddox on the grounds of perjury and conspiracy, Hester commits suicide, hanging herself in the shower - unable to live with her guilt over aborting her baby. Lawyer Bergman, apparently playing quite manipulatively with his wife's sense of duty and loyalty, has her agree to end the affair with the policeman and return with him to Washington, D. C. and their life there. Our last glimpse of the police captain is standing alone on the quay watching the woman he loves sail out of his life. And then the credits roll.
That's the plot is a rather tight nutshell, leaving out many characters and interrelated subplots which fill the four hours air time with some good acting, pre-war atmosphere. And food for thought concerning racism. The miniseries was pretty well-received by both the critics and the viewing public. However, there were a number of critics who thought the love affair between the cop and the wife was contrived and superfluous. I disagree. I think the inclusion in the script of a love affair between the two humanized the policeman, who was a bit on the cold side. And the casting of the beautiful Sean Young as Lenore gave us a tender portrait of a young woman suddenly discovering that her sheltered life has a bird-in-the-gilded cage quality. The initial script has Lenore crying out to her manipulative husband, who has purchased tickets for that very day without telling her, "But I love him." It is painful to watch those hopes and dreams quashed.
Except I'm not buying it. The script implies that the two lovers are equally distraught over the ending of their idyll - that the emotional exhaustion in the eyes of the man left behind on the pier is matched by the tremulous-on-the-edge-of-tears demeanor of the luminous Lenore on the upper deck. They are equally heartbroken. I don't believe it for a minute. I think the lovely Lenore has used the policeman. Whatever passion she may actually have had for him is more than overshadowed by her desire to remain Mrs. Walter Bergman, standing there in her smart, stylishly expensive clothes (complete with a fur piece). Our hero may actually have provided her first awakening to the possibilities; she may actually have been "made new" as she claims. If so, I don't think he will be the last. Maddox himself seems to almost understand this. When Bergman confronts him in his office, taunting him as being only a "hick flatfoot," Maddox says "if it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else." Bergman may have been in the beginning moments of a diabetic coma, but he is a wily, determined man who clearly views his wife as one of his possessions. He makes it clear "I'm not giving her up." So the series is not just about racism. It's about class as well. Although I think the cop is honestly devastated by the loss, he has gained something from the experience. He has discovered that he himself is capable of passion - something that was not particularly apparent before. And he has told off his rich "mentor," - defying his oppressors with integrity and courage. He is in a better place.
It was a good miniseries - a cut above usual television fare. There are a few duds in the cast - Lloyd Murdoch (who seems too listless to have done something so momentous as to kill someone is open court), and Commander Fairly (Maddox's awful boss) - but others, such as the dynamic and lyrical Princess, are exceptional even in small parts (the look that the Princess gives Doris Ashley as she passes her on her way to a seat in the courtroom, could strip paint).