Character Assassination

In this age of Tivo and DVRs an issue has been raised among media writers as to plot revelations in episodic TV. When is it journalistically permissible or responsible to reveal plot developments on a show that sits on many viewers' hard drives? Film critics have respected their readers and the filmmakers by never discussing major plot twists until the DVDs have at least been removed from the "New Release" sections of Blockbusters. Now that Blockbusters is almost an archaic reference, and TV programs can be downloaded onto computers and cellphones, a different paradigm exists. But I believe, perhaps too conservatively, that as soon as an episode of TV airs live in the last American time zone, its plot details are public domain. So I will be discussing the opening episode of this year's "24" as though all my seven readers have already seen it. If not, I'll provide a failsafe SPOILER ALERT, so skip the next paragraph.

I had another Aaron Boone "prescient" moment when discussing this season's developments on "24" with my brother, also a big fan of the show (along with a whole chunk of Americans who enjoy its proto-fascist slant, whether or not they lean that way themselves). I hadn't read any plot points about the premiere, but I suggested tht Dennis Haysbert's character, President Palmer, would probably be disposed of. My reasoning was simple--the actor had been signed on to another series so he would not be readily available later on to save the day, as he did last season. Plot considerations aside, contract negotiations are the greatest cause of character mortality on series television. I turned out to be accurate, as he was gunned down in the first five minutes of this season's melodramatic 24-hour crisis. I was not surprised, then, by the subsequent killing of Michelle Dessler, heroine of three past seasons, in the next five minutes, though I'm not sure what Reiko Aylesworth's agent has in store for her.

It occurred to me that for fictional characters, "24" is the most treacherous series ever. Of course all the major villains (except Mia Kirschner's elfin assassin "Mandy") have met their ends. But the protagonists have been equally unlucky, from Jack's wife to various CTU chiefs and agents (some of which Jack had to off himself) to the two mainstays from previous seasons. This produces good storytelling but undermines one of the sources for audience loyalty, which is emotional investment in characters. It will be harder now to watch the first season's myriad attempts to avert Palmer's assassination, as well as all those seasons when Michelle narrowly escaped, knowing that they were doomed in the long run anyway. And I feel certain that when Keefer tires of the "24" schedule his character will receive a spectacular, world-saving send-off.

There used to be a concept called "false jeopardy" when conceiving episodic plots for either drama or comedy. Any peril faced by a series regular was certain to be overcome, and that character's condition had to return to the status quo, so plot contrivances that put characters in danger were innately artificial. Series regulars were icons of a sort, immune to the mortality that haunts our consciousness in the real world. The only fatalities allowable were villainous guest characters or underling day-players, like the notorious red-shirted ensigns on "Star Trek."

But after Vietnam and Watergate in the 70s, a certain "malaise" leaked into our zeitgeist, and death slowly began to seep in where totally unexpected. The downing of McLean Stevenson's plane on "M*A*S*H" was emotionally groundbreaking, even if only noted as an off-screen event that resolved why he would never return to Korea but instead would segue over to "Hello, Larry." "Mary Tyler Moore" strayed memorably into the acknowledgment of death in its famous "Chuckles Bites the Dust" episode, even though Chuckles was rarely, if ever, seen. One of MTM's alums, Valerie Harper, was killed off in an '80s sitcom called "The Valerie Harper Show," which created a lot of awkwardness. That was less a creative decision than a mandatory one, as the actress stormed off the set. But her character's demise was acknowledged on the revamped show, "The Hogan Family", so audiences would understand why Sandy Duncan was suddenly puttering around the kitchen in her perky way.

Strategic deaths began to seep into dramatic programming a bit later, usually for shock and publicity purposes. Steve Bochko surprisingly knocked off some popular cops in "Hill Street Blues," long before it became de rigeur to erase every season's Dennis Franz partner in "NYPD Blue." "Star Trek, the Next Generation" made an impact when it killed off security officer Tasha Yar in its thirteenth episode. Not only was this an impressive creative idea, but it led to some very good subsequent episodes when Denise Crosby returned in parallel dimensions and time lines, even as her own villainous Romulan daughter. Subsequent "Star Trek" series continued the trend, offing regulars Jadzia Dax on "Deep Space: Nine" and Trip on the finale of "Enterprise."

But the ploy sometimes backfired. When "L.A. Law" sent sharklike Rosalind Shays down an elevator shaft just as she was becoming dimensional, the show jumped the shark, losing touch with its audiences sympathies. That had to be another contractual hit, since Diana Muldaur's performance was superb and the conflicts she aroused were very compelling.

In the last fifteen years the shock value of the surprise character assassination has waned considerably. However, this makes for more credible plot development, since there is no longer false jeopardy. This applies certainly to all police dramas, science fiction, and espionage programs, where the creators acknowledge that the good are in equal peril. "Alias" has bumped off hero after hero, and J.J. Abram's subsequent success, "Lost," has become almost a guessing game for the next fatality. I feel sorry for Chloe and Edgar, deep into their tenures on "24," because they will be disposed of as soon as it convenient for the writers. I guess it's a tribute somehow to the mojo of that show that I should care at all. In these darker times, reflecting the Dark Ages into which the terrorists and the frenzied anti-terrorists who govern us have thrown us, our expectations descend into disconcerting territory.