What audiences loved most about 70s television in the time of Watergate was that it was a mindless distraction from the real-life soap opera playing out between newscasts. Producers Spelling and Goldberg were the masters of the derivative, soft-core, prime-time sex and violence suitable for the whole family. But more to the point, they were virtuosos of the spin-off, those enduring formulas that saturated the airwaves with predictable, oversimplified characters, exposition crammed dialogue, wisecracking banter, touchy-feely anecdotes, chummy camaraderie, and minimal socially relevant, timeworn storylines. In truth, the creative trust responsible for television entertainment since its inception has regularly fallen back on mindless and derivative material for comfort and profit, but, in the decades between Nixon and Reagan, audiences had grown to expect it and even prefer it. And they weren't embarrassed to admit as much.
While Aaron Spelling's mediocre talent and looks may not have been a great loss to the acting world, they were a boon to those he employed, many of whom made their names in a Spelling/Goldberg production. Capitalizing on teenage rebellion in the midst of the Vietnam War, he found his niche in prime-time escapism with "Mod Squad," a psychedelic, cop show upgrade, featuring attractive, young actors, most significantly, a woman and an African-American. It was a winning formula that spawned a happy breed, including "The Rookies," "S. W. A. T," "Starsky and Hutch," and, the series that put the jiggle in TV, "Charley's Angels." The momentum continued through the 80s with "Dynasty" (conspicuous decadence, just say yes to money, and Nolan Miller) and with "The Love Boat" and "Fantasy Island" (last resorts for aged Hollywood actors, inoffensive humor, and Nolan Miller). It was an age when politically correct meant which party you joined, race inclusivity meant backstories for the black help, and gender equality meant women could be as violent as men. To be fair, Spelling did make some strides--small ones--to reverse the paradigm and create television that reflects the real world, but opted instead for a sociological study of adolescent issues and urges in "Beverly Hills 90201" and its spinoff "Melrose Place." They were ratings winners and for Spelling the apotheosis of his long career.
With due credit to Mr. Spelling, the sixth season of the "S. W. A. T" reboot arrives, featuring sculpted body and facial hair, Shemar Moore. Updated, somewhat, with enough psychology and emotions to make Joe Friday apoplectic, and with heaps of fire power and state-of-the-art killing technology, the series still retains all of the former's nuts and bolts--the high fives, the fist bumps, the bro hugs, the testosterone--everything that made it a winning formula in the 70s, yet with tighter fitting uniforms. The muscles might be more pumped up, like the hair, but the characters who have them haven't changed, much. There is still at least one young hot dog who gets in and out of trouble; some older and wiser characters who mentor, advise, and encourage; at least one female (a trendy Latina bisexual); a brawny not a brainy Asian (against type); and at the helm a stalwart leader (Moore), who's intrepid yet sensitive, unremittingly angry (has knitted brows to prove it), self righteous to a fault with a faultless work ethic, a complicated man whom no one understands but his mama. Moore is perfectly cast in this part, very much similar to his 70s counterpart Steve Forrest, Hondo the first. He and the series are a workmanlike effort, as one might expect from routine television serials, entertaining and nostalgic, but not much else to think about. Aaron Spelling approves.
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