Another feature of...

JABOOTU DOWN UNDER

Guest Reviews By Liz Kingsley

Introduction by Ken the Bleeding' Yank.

I'm not going to pretend that my fellow Cabal member Liz needs an introduction here, much less from me.  If you aren't a regular visitor to her site, then the loss is yours.  Instead, I'd just like to say how pleased I am that Liz would allow us to present her reactions to America's finest cultural exchanges with, that's right, the Land Down Under.  (Thank you, Men at Work!)

I really don't know that much about Australia, despite an enduring childhood love of koalas -- who aren't bears, by the way.  That's fine, though, since it's sort of the point Liz is making here.  Americans don't know much about Australia.  Except that they have a really big Opera House, weird animals and play the didgeridoo a lot.  

The only in-depth conversations I've ever had about the Lil' Continent that Could were when I was in Boot Camp at the start of my U.S. Navy Reserve hitch back in '82.  Veteran sailors would often regale us newbies with tales from their adventures in the Fleet.  Often the question -- very often -- would arise about which ports the, uh, most readily available and fulfilling female companionship could be found.  (These queries did not issue from me, I should clarify.  As a reservist my chances of traveling on a ship were slight, and my personal ethics didn't and don't run to such short-term relationships.  Make of that what you will.)

Every time the question was raised, the answer was the same.  Australia was the best place for American sailors to readily establish temporary yet close personal relationships with comely young women.  The reason being, we were told, that Australian men were such monstrous macho jerks that even American Sailors were considered the acme in short-term gentlemen suitors.  These being, I should note, sailors from back in the '70s and early '80s, before the U.S. military branches grew increasingly politically correct.  (For instance, smoking is now officially against regs.  The Smoking Lamp has been permanently retired.)

I realize that we're not talking every Australian man here, or woman for that matter.  I'm talking a population consisting of young adults living in major port cities who's goal was a good night or weekend of carousing.  Moreover, sailors have been known to exaggerate.  Still, these sentiments were passed on from a good half dozen or more salts I heard over the years.  Each of which crowned Australia with this rabidly contested distinction, not as a contender, but as the winner.  Perhaps this will help inform some of what Liz reviews below.

Or maybe not.    

For the record, photos and captions were provided by yours truly.

                                                                                -- Ken.

__________________

Well, a change is as good as a holiday, they say, so I thought I’d spend my summer hiatus with the fine fellows of Jabootu’s Bad Movie Dimension. However, the world being what it is, no-one gets nuthin’ for nuthin’, and instead of a relaxing few weeks, I find myself in the midst of a working holiday – to wit, tackling those projects which, requiring an [*cough*] exotic (and exchange-rate friendly) location, packed up their cast and crew and headed for the sunny shores of Oz.

The results of this, ah, "cultural" exchange tend to fall into two categories. Some shows do use Australia purely as an exotic location, inserting stock footage of the usual suspects while their characters go about their normal business. The results are usually painless.

On the other hand, some shows decide to go native. They create Australian characters, integrate them into the plot, and give them reams of dialogue peppered with the local vernacular.

The results could make your head explode.

The first thing you notice about these shows is that they are never, ever suffixed with the expression "---in Australia". Instead, the title is invariably Such-And-Such Down Under.

The problem with this, of course, is that - with very rare exceptions - no-one in Australia ever uses the expression "Down Under".

What are those exceptions, you might ask?

1. When writing song lyrics.

Let’s face it, "Australia" is not the easiest word to rhyme. Sure, pronounce it "Oz-TRAYYL-ya" (as many have), and you give yourself a few options, but nothing to compare with the possibilities granted by the syllables of "under": thunder, wonder, plunder, blunder.

Chunder….

2. When trying to avoid geographical confusion.

After the Sydney Olympics, the organising committee published a list of the ten questions most frequently asked by prospective tourists in the lead-up to the Games. Coming in fourth was "When/where can I hear the Vienna Boys’ Choir?"

3. When trying to see how much BS we can feed to gullible Americans.

Yes, though I blush to confess it, it’s true: we Australians do sometimes pile on the "local colour" when talking to tourists. And I blush even more to confess that the most popular target for this behaviour is Americans. They have such beautiful natures! – open, honest, trusting….

I mean, come on! How could we resist!?

This reflection on "local colour" leads us to the one constant point of the Down Under projects: the endlessly bizarre dialogue. Don’t get me wrong: Australian is a difficult language, chock full of slang, and abbreviations, and nicknames – not to mention the local intonation, which no-one else in the world seems to be able to duplicate (when they try, it generally comes out sounding either South African or Cockney). If the producers really wanted to amuse/entertain/bewilder their audience, they’d only have to make their dialogue accurate. But this never happens. Instead, these shows invariably feature a mindboggling mixture of anachronisms, misused expressions, and flat-out what-the-fudge?-s. Which leads to the question - who writes this stuff? Do the shows use their normal writers? – and if so, do those writers spend a couple of days amongst the locals, then try to reproduce what they’ve heard? Or do they just make it up?

Or – do the producers hire an advisor? – and does that advisor, perhaps, see an opportunity to take Point #3 to a whole new level? Somehow, I’m unable to shake a mental picture of the individuals hired to provide the necessary "colour" for these shows counting their fees and giggling in an evil and manic fashion while reflecting, "I cannot believe they swallowed that!!"

The lead-up to the Sydney Olympics saw a rush of "Down Under" television specials. The ones that made it first to Australian screens suggest that even as I am now luxuriating in Jabootu’s personal realm, he once graced my backyard with his presence. Certainly, the overall standard of these programs indicates that despite being in the middle of a well-earned rest, everyone’s favourite ebon deity saw that he was needed, and interrupted his holiday to make a personal contribution to their production, thus lifting them from the level of mere television mediocrity up into the realm of the truly, embarrassingly awful.

Whatta guy!

I should probably start out by saying I’d never before seen an episode of this show. Having now done so, I feel that I can’t do better than to quote Sideshow Bob:

"That was a well-plotted piece of non-claptrap that never made me want to retch."

This particular JAG story is a two-parter, made to celebrate the show’s 100^th episode. It opens with a dark screen, over which plays – didgeridoo music. Well, could have been worse, I guess; could have opened with a helicopter shot over the harbour. The camera lifts, and we see a shot of Luna Park – an amusement park located by the water in the suburb of Milson’s Point - at nighttime. A caption informs us that it’s 1972. The camera moves swiftly around the park, unwisely giving the audience a good look at rides that were definitely not operational in 1972. We see numerous young sailors amongst the revellers (they’ve got shore leave in Sydney and they spend it at an amusement park? Wow, guess those stories weren’t true after all!) and the camera settles on one, currently occupied in exchanging suggestive dialogue with a blonde girl. From their accents, we infer that he ("Kevin") is meant to be American, and she ("Jenny") is meant to be Australian. As the two kiss, the camera swings around, and we see three more young sailors approaching. One speaks:

Immortal dialogue: "Oy, that’s my bird you’re kissing there, Yank!"

Jenny begs the speaker ("Ian") not to start trouble, while Kevin asks who he is – an old boyfriend?

Immortal dialogue: "Nah, nah, I’m her bloody fiancé, mate!"

A spat between Jenny and her erstwhile fiancé – sorry, her erstwhile bloody fiancé – ensues, ending when one of Ian’s friends steps forward and utters a line of dialogue that will haunt us throughout this extraordinary production:

Immortal dialogue: "Let’s kick this seppo’s arse!"

Seppo!!!???

Linguistics with Lyz: I think the word they were looking for was "septic" – "septic tank" being rhyming slang for "Yank", and hence "septic" being a general term of abuse for an American. It’s not an expression that gets much use any more – and considering that there are at least two dozen other opprobrious Australian terms for "American", you have to wonder why they chose that one. (Granted, about twenty-two of those couldn’t be used on prime-time US TV, but still….) And you also have to wonder who it was that convinced the writers that "seppo" was – or ever had been – a real word. ("I can’t believe they swallowed that!")

I suppose we should be grateful for small mercies – at least they said "arse" rather than "ass"….

Kevin takes exception to the odds, and Ian informs him, somewhat mystifyingly, that "I don’t need my mates to send you to scab-picker!"

Linguistics with Lyz: Scab-picker!? Or is it stair-picker? Or scare-picker? I don’t know. I thought it might be "scab-picker", perhaps as an expression for "doctor"; but to be honest, I’ve listened, and I’ve listened, and I’ve listened, and I can’t figure out what he’s supposed to be saying; so let’s just agree that the writer pulled something out of his backside here, and move on.

The threatened fight is averted when two men on Shore Patrol hove into view. Ian threatens, "I’ll be seeing you, Yank!" and Kevin urges him to make it soon, as his ship leaves port in two days. "It’s the USS Chicago."

Random facts: In May of 1942, the USS Chicago was in Sydney Harbour for repairs and upkeep. On the night of May 31^st, three Japanese mini-subs were launched near the Sydney Heads. One became tangled in shark netting. Another was detected and disabled with depth charges before it could fire. The third did fire torpedoes at the Chicago. They missed, and instead struck the HMAS Kuttabul, an Australian barracks ship. Twenty-one servicemen were killed and another ten seriously injured.

(Which, when you think about it, pretty much sums up Australia’s military history: we’re always taking hits for the other guys.)

Kevin and Jenny move away, kissing and groping as Ian fumes. Friend #1 opines that "a slag like Jenny’s not worth it", a sentiment with which it’s hard to argue. Friend #2, however, comments that, "It’s the seppo he wants a piece of!" Kevin and Jenny run to the wharf, but their ferry pulls out. They snog some more, making sure to move under a light so that the pursuing Ian gets the best possible view of them….

The camera lifts for another look at the Luna Park "face", and the didgeridoo music kicks in again. We fade to a daylight shot, the camera drops, and we see workmen waiting for their morning ferry. One glances down into the water, and we get what is, sadly, the single accurate moment in this entire idiotic production:

"Hey, a SHARK!!" he bellows, then takes another look. "And a body!!"

The camera closes in on the uniform-clad floater, and we see that the victim is from the USS Chicago….

Cue opening credits. In answer to my previous question, we learn that this episode was written by the show’s creator, David Bellisario, who also co-directed with Jeannot Szwarc (director of Bug, Jaws 2, Santa Claus: The Movie, and more TV shows than I care to think about). We then cut to Washington D.C., where we are introduced to our main characters. Given that this is my first look at this show, my knowledge of these characters and their backstories is necessarily superficial. Fortunately, "superficial" proves to be perfectly adequate.

The show centres on Commander Harmon "Harm" Rabb Jr and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie. (Wow! Those Naval types sure do wrack their brains for imaginative nicknames, don’t they?) These two scream Unresolved Sexual Tension – due chiefly, it seems, to Harm being the strong silent type who has difficulty expressing his True Feelings. (Sure enough, a third point of the triangle shows up as the show progresses – but he, dear readers, deserves a paragraph to himself.) Supporting characters include the avuncular Admiral Chegwidden, Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez (whose nickname is – yes, you guessed it – "Gunny"), and Lieutenant Bud Roberts and his wife/colleague Lieutenant Harriet Sims Roberts – who are, unless the hairs rising up on the back of my neck mislead me, this show’s Odious Comedy Double-Act.

Washington D.C. is icy and snowbound, and Mac has a bad cold, and much is made of both of these facts as she, Harm and Bud are summoned to Chegwidden’s office. (There haven’t been this many dumb character names in one place since The Beast, have there?) The reason for the summons is a phonecall from Australia, from----

From----

Jeez, I can’t even say it!

Okay (deep breath)….from----Commander Mic Brumby.

Agonised authorial interjection: MIC BRUMBY!!!??? AAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!!!

In Pillow Talk, there comes a moment when Rock Hudson, posing as a naïve Texas millionaire, adopts the name "Rex Stetson". Only Pillow Talk is a comedy; the name is a joke. This is a show that at least masquerades as a serious drama, and yet we’re supposed to accept a character called "Commander Brumby"!!??. I mean----holy crap!!

(In fact, I was so outraged by this discovery, I just had to call up my best friends, Bruce Billabong and Noelene "NADS" Caseoffosters, and tell them about it!)

So – now we have Mac, Harm, Bud, Chegwidden and Brumby. Yup, it’s The Beast all over again. Chegwidden recounts the story of Kevin Lee and Ian Dunsmore, explaining that the suspected murderer – who deserted – has just been located and apprehended, and that he won’t talk to anyone but a US Navy JAG officer. Mac has been twitching self-consciously through all this, and now bursts out with a condemnation of Brumby who, she claims, has been trying to lure her to Australia. "He even offered to buy me a BUSINESS CLASS SEAT on QANTAS!" she announces.

I don’t know about you, but – to paraphrase Homer Simpson – I like my beer cold, my TV loud, and my product placement FLAGRANT.

"He e-mails me Sydney’s air and water temps daily----"
"That’s right!" exclaims Chegwidden, going dreamy-eyed. "It’s….summer down under."
"He even sends me postcards of the beaches!"
"As I recall, " Chegwidden gets even more dreamy-eyed, "they’re topless!"
"I never, never thought he’d pull a stunt like this----"

At which point, Chegwidden interrupts her little tirade with the news that he didn’t: Brumby actually requested Harm and Bud. Mac sits there with her mouth hanging open as the soundtrack goes wah-wah-waahhh, alerting us that this is, yes, "comedy".

As Mac storms away, Harm and Bud make merry at her expense. When she is out of earshot, Bud requests clarification of events.

"Why didn’t he ask for her, sir?"
"Because he’s one smart dingo!"

Cut to Sydney, which is introduced via – a helicopter shot over the harbour. And more didgeridoo music. A plane (QANTAS’s Boeing 747 "Wunala Dreaming", naturally) lands, and Harm and Bud enter the International Arrivals lounge (which is, I must point out, played by the Domestic Departures lounge! Although, if memory serves, the International terminal was in the middle of renovations when this was shot, so I guess that’s fair enough). The camera zooms in on a big-breasted blonde, and then pulls back to show the blonde being ogled by a man in naval uniform. Ladies and gentlemen: Commander Mic Brumby. He and Harm, antagonistic on sight, do that "macho handshake" thing, eyeballing each other as they do so. (I sure hope you enjoy alpha male squabbling, folks, because that’s pretty much all we get for the next two hours!) Brumby then exchanges pleasantries with Bud as – a huge QANTAS sign looming the background - he leads the way to his car: a mud-covered 4WD (astonishingly, we do not get a close-up of its logo). "Sorry about the dirt, mate," apologises Brumby. "I was in the outback." Harm runs a supercilious eye over the vehicle.

"We going on a safari, Commander?"
"Down here, we call it ‘going bush’. I do it on the weekends. Roo-bar on the front, snorkel for crossing streams. I got a radio----"
"----to call for help when you get lost?"

Brumby’s annoyed look, and Bud’s snigger, alerts us that this is supposed to represent a major zinger. In retaliation, Brumby offers Harm the car-keys, telling Bud, "Better fasten your seatbelt – driving on the left takes a bit of getting used to." Um – yeah. And he might also want to fasten his seatbelt because it’s the law. Or don’t Naval officers worry about little things like that?

Picturesque shots of Sydney follow (cricket in Moore Park), accompanied by still more didgeridoo music. Brumby fills in more details of the case.

"So after Petty Officer Kevin Lee was murdered, Seaman Dunsmore went U.A. and hid out with Jenny Brooker in Woolgoolga."
"Wool-what??"
"Woolgoolga. It’s an aboriginal name for a Bananabender town."
"What’s a ‘Bananabender’, sir?" asks a mystified Bud.
"They grow bananas, Bud."

Agonised authorial interjection: You see!!?? YOU SEE!!?? This – THIS is what drives me NUTS about these stupid shows!!

1. "Woolgoolga" is not "an aboriginal name" for a town – it’s just the name of the damn place, which happens to be of aboriginal origin - as are a great many Australian place-names. (Except in Tasmania – but that’s another story.)
2. A "Bananabender" is not "someone who grows bananas" – it’s a Queenslander.

In other words, in "the real world", the conversation would have gone like this:

"Seaman Dunsmore went U.A., and hid out with Jenny Brooker in Woolgoolga."
"Wool-what??"
"Woolgoolga. It’s a town on the north coast of New South Wales where they grow bananas."

But then – that’s so much less colourful, isn’t it?

(By the way – Woolgoolga happens to be the home-town of David Bellisario’s wife, which explains the extreme workout it gets in this story. Hey, there’s a thought! – maybe "seppo" is a regional Woolgoolgan term!)

"And that" – i.e. grow bananas – "is exactly what he and Jenny did. He eventually married her, using the name ‘Tom Kingsley’."

Agonised authorial interjection: Tom K---- Aaaccckkkggghhhh!!!!

Ohhhhhhhhhh, right! Right, you sons of bitches! NOW it’s personal!!!!

Brumby goes on to explain that, in time, the fugitive couple moved back to Sydney and opened a restaurant in Manly. Everything was fine for many years, until their home was burgled. One of the investigating officers had, conveniently enough, worked on the original murder case; and he found some effects in the house that gave away "Tom Kingsley’s" identity.

Brumby here breaks off to tell Harm to "take a right at the circle". Harm, of course, turns right immediately, across the path of – surprise! – an overloaded van, which deposits its load all over the road. "Down here," Brumby tells Harm, "we go around the circle to the left."

Linguistics with Lyz: Down here, we also call it a "roundabout", not a "circle"! By the way, notice how Brumby keeps saying, "Down here", not just "here"? Almost as if – another country – perhaps one in the Northern Hemisphere – was being used as a reference point.

Eventually, the three arrive at the Garden Island RAN Naval Base. Brumby points out his parallel parking spot, and suggests that Harm let him do the parking. To the astonishment of his companions, Harm easily swings the vehicle into place (the camera lifts here, so you can’t actually see who’s behind the wheel). Harm tosses the keys back to the stunned Brumby, explaining airily, "My step-father owned a cottage in the Bahamas. That’s where I learned to drive." Bud – whose function in this show is clearly to ensure that the severely retarded guy in the back row doesn’t miss anything – leans forward to inquire, "Sir, don’t they drive on the left in the Bahamas?" Brumby, realising that he has been well and truly zing-ed, mutters disgustedly, "Bloody hell!"

None of which, of course, explains why Harm nearly got them all killed going the wrong way around a "circle".

Cut to the brig, where Harm, Brumby and Bud confront the accused. Harm asks him why he wanted a US JAG officer present (a question you’d really think might have been asked before that officer flew halfway around the world). As the music swells on the soundtrack, the accused makes his big revelation: he’s not Seaman Ian Dunsmore; he’s Petty Officer Kevin Lee….

(And we fade to an ad-break; a really lo-oo-oong ad-break. Now I remember why I stopped watching Channel 7. I mean, apart from the fact that all their programs suck….)

And so Kevin Lee aka Ian Dunsmore aka Tom K---- [*yecchhhh*] tells his story, insisting that the killing of Dunsmore was an accident, and that he switched uniforms and dog-tags with the victim. Harm asks why no-one from the Chicago identified the body. "Harbour sharks had a feed on him," replies Brumby tersely, causing Bud’s eyes to almost pop out of his head. "There’s sharks in the harbour!?" he whimpers. "It’s Australia, mate," explains Brumby. "There’s sharks in the bathtub!" (Yeah, and about 99.9% of them are completely harmless. Okay, okay. I ranted enough during my Jaws review. I’ll stop.) As Lee muses how different everything would have been if only he and Jenny had caught their ferry, we fade to a flashback. We see the couple kissing, and Ian Dunsmore approaching them. He pulls a knife. Jenny, noticing, says in a voice of mild irritation, "Ian, don’t be such an ocker!"

Linguistics with Lyz: "Ocker" means extremely, even gratingly Australian. What that has to do with pulling a knife, I haven’t the first freaking idea.

[Editor Ken the Yank:  Here it's apparent that Liz is having fun with us Septics.  Everyone knows that Australian men have a close, personal relationships with their cutlery.  In perhaps the single most iconic cultural moment the Land of Oz has given the world, Mick "Crocodile" Dundee reacted to a switchblade-wielding New York mugger by drawing his own oversized woodsman blade, telling his fellow would-be victim, "That's not a knife.  This is a knife."

Ian’s reply is even more inexplicable than Jenny’s remark: "Yeah, well, what do you expect when you take up with a seppo, ay?" Kevin is willing enough to fight, but demands that Ian "stow the knife". "Oh, I’ll stow it," responds Ian, who is clearly the HMAS Anzac’s version of Oscar Wilde, "in your gut, you seppo bastard!" And so the fight begins. Jenny screams helplessly, and we fade back to the present, with Lee insisting again that the killing was an accident, that Dunsmore tripped over a cleat and fell on his knife. He didn’t report the incident, because (i) he thought no-one would believe his story; and (ii) he saw an opportunity to start a new life. Lee then confesses that in the States, he’d been forced to marry a girl who claimed he was the father of her unborn child. He’d hated his life, and joined the Navy to get away from things.

Throughout, Brumby has been getting angrier and angrier, and now throws his disbelief in Lee’s face. Harm, on the other hand, keeps his cool. As the three men turn to leave, Lee says defiantly that whatever happens, "The years with Jen were worth it!" Yeah, from what we’ve seen of her, that Jenny was a real prize packet, all right. Outside, Bud compliments his superiors. "I didn’t know how good you guys are at playing ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’." "Who’s playing?" chorus the Commanders.

Cut to Washington D.C. Gunny tells Chegwidden that the FBI has confirmed Lee’s identity. Chegwidden orders Gunny to arrange for the transportation of the real Ian Dunsmore’s body back to Australia. Mac’s twitching again, and starts oh-so-casually suggesting reasons why she should escort the body. Chegwidden finally grants her leave, and as she bounds out of his office, he chuckles knowingly.

"I’d like to be in Australia to watch this one unfold!"
"Sounds like a slam-dunk conviction, sir."
"Oh, I’m not talking about the trial!"

And now, gentle reader, we get – The Big Picture. The Main Plot Point. The part of this story that guaranteed it headline stories and photo spreads in entertainment magazines world-wide.

Brumby, Harm and Bud are sitting in a beachfront restaurant in Manly, and the Americans are making the discovery that on Sydney beaches, bikini tops are optional….

Agonised authorial interjection: Pathetic, isn’t it? And it’s worse than pathetic, it’s inaccurate. True, many of our beaches are fairly careless over this sort of thing, but it’s hardly de rigeur as is implied here. Moreover, toplessness is usually confined to one particular area of any beach, so that those who don’t wish to indulge (the vast majority, I assure you), or who don’t approve, or who don’t want their kids around it, don’t get it shoved in their faces. But you’d never know it here, where shoals of local bit players shed their tops with, uh, gay abandon. The camera takes all this in, but from a discreet distance. Naturally, even though the "topless beaches" plot point was exploited for all it was worth in the promotion of the show, no-one suckered into watching actually got to see anything.

Bud gapes beachward, his eyes glazing over and his tongue lapping somewhere near his ankles. "It’s like an R-rated Baywatch out there!" he slavers.

A waitress comes up to take the men’s orders. Brumby requests "a round of beers and a plate of prawns". Hmm, strange. I’ve never been in a restaurant where you could order "a plate of prawns". The waitress, meanwhile, is gawking at Harm.

"Yank – dress whites – gold wings – you’ll have the girls buzzing!"
"What about me?" says Brumby.
"Sorry, no gold wings."
"But I’ve got a roo in my pocket!"

The waitress guffaws uncontrollably. Well, I guess in the restaurant business, you have to play up to your customers, no matter how asinine their remarks. She then takes Brumby’s order, but Harm asks for iced tea rather than beer. "You’re in Australia, mate," Brumby tells him. "It’s okay to have a beer at lunchtime in our Navy." (I’ve no idea whether this is true or not, but I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.) "I’m not in your Navy," says Harm, sticking to his guns. A reluctant Bud likewise changes his order. The waitress gives the two Americans a "Wheeoooo, you’re nuts" look and walks off. The three men discuss the case, with Brumby and Harm getting hostile all over again. Bud asks why Lee would lie about his identity.

Immortal dialogue: "I don’t know, but the bugger’s as wily as a dingo!"

Harm gets a phonecall from Gunny, who tells him that Mac is escorting Dunsmore’s body to Australia. "Mac!" exclaims Harm, causing Brumby to look around sharply. Bud’s wife, Harriet, asks Gunny to find out if Bud is there. Harm hands the phone to Bud without explanation, and he, thinking he’s talking to Gunny, blurts, "It is wild down here! I haven’t seen so many naked breasts since….since…."

"Since when, Bud!?"
"Harriet!!??"

Ah, good old hairs on the back of my neck. They never mislead me!

(By the way, the extraordinary reaction of the two Americans to their surroundings leads me to infer that those stories I’ve heard about the US navy editing nudity out of the films screened on its ships must be true. [Hi, Adam!])

"You didn’t tell me Harriet was on the phone!" wails Bud. "Well, I didn’t know you were going to talk about breasts!" responds Harm. Brumby presses Harm on the subject of Mac, trying to make him confirm that she’s escorting the body. Harm dodges the issue, demanding that Lee be released into US custody. Seconds later the two Commanders are again eyeball to eyeball, snarling at each other. The dejected Bud notices that their waitress has overheard the conversation, and that she looks frightened. A moment later, she drops their order and flees. "I think she realised who we were," smirks Brumby.

"You said that Kevin and Jenny owned a restaurant in Manly. This wouldn’t be it, would it?"
"Could be, mate."
"So that was Jenny."
"Give the man a meat pie!"

More picturesque location shots. The Corso. Lifesavers. Breasts. Harm is on the phone, trying to convince Chegwidden that the US should have jurisdiction in the case. Chegwidden disagrees, then asks if Harm’s demand might possibly have something to do with his dislike of Brumby. We learn that the case is to be tried in "Australian civil court", so Brumby won’t be involved. Harm then responds to Bud’s agonised mugging and asks Chegwidden to try and placate Harriet, explaining that Bud made "a slightly libertine [remark] involving topless females on a beach here." The Admiral chuckles, "So, he wants me to re-float his dinghy?" (at least we Australians don’t get all the inane dialogue), and agrees to help.

Brumby joins them, and Harm concedes case jurisdiction. Brumby reveals that he has already had Lee transferred to Long Bay Jail – sorry, Correctional Facility – and asks Harm when he’s leaving.

"When I’m satisfied that Petty Officer Lee is properly represented."
"You afraid of me being alone down here with Mac, Harm?"
"You know, Brumby, one of these days – you and I are going to strip blouses!"

Back in Washington, Gunny is doing his inept best to soothe Harriet.

"Ever hear the story of the guy who was stranded on a deserted island with Julia Roberts?"
"Julia Roberts was stranded on an island?"
"No, she wasn’t, ma’am. It’s a joke."
"That isn’t funny, Gunny."

Well, Harriet, you ought to know. Horrifyingly, Gunny continues to stumble through that alleged joke, but since I assume everyone’s heard it before (although it was Elle MacPherson in my version), I’ll spare all of us. Chegwidden interrupts, none too soon, and takes Harriet into his office.

"Harriet, does Bud love you?"
"I don’t know, sir…."
"Lieutenant Sims!! Does your husband love you?"
"YES, SIR!!"
"Good. Dismissed."

Things I Learned From Watching This Show: Admirals in the US Navy spend most of their time acting as relationship counsellors to their underlings.

Harm and Bud walk the path that borders the Botanical Gardens, allowing more picturesque harbour shots. Harm is bitching about Brumby, trying to work out what it is about him that bugs him so much. "That smug grin, or the Crocodile Dundee accent…." – both legitimate complaints, I concede. Bud then has the temerity to suggest that Brumby’s pursuit of Colonel Mackenzie might also be behind it. Harm squirms visibly, muttering that he just doesn’t want Mac to make a mistake. (There, you see? I was right: he’s got issues. Harm, you emotionally repressed male, you!) At that moment, Bud points at a passer-by, exclaiming, "Isn’t that Clayton Webb?"

(And it may well be. This character recurs throughout these episodes in what’s clearly a running joke, each time reappearing with a different gorgeous woman and speaking a different language. This probably means something to regular viewers, but it means squat to the rest of us, so I’ll just skip over his other cameos.)

Harm and Bud talk to Lee. Bud remarks that Lee probably doesn’t have anything to worry about with regard to his desertion charge, as Vietnam deserters are now usually granted an "administrative separation". Harm tells Lee about the scene in the restaurant (which is, BTW, called "Uluru" – a particularly stupid name for a seafood restaurant, I’d’ve thought [I guess I should explain that. "Uluru" is the aboriginal – one might even say the correct name for Ayres Rock.]). Lee is taken aback to hear that Jenny ran away, but insists, "She’s sensitive." (Hoo, yeah! That’s the word, all right!) Lee then begs Harm to stay and defend him, fearing that a local won’t properly represent him. "No matter how many years I’ve lived here, in that courtroom I’ll still be a Yank, who murdered an Aussie to get his girl!" And this view of the case would be wrong----how, exactly? Lee then tells a stunned Harm that Brumby told him he would be prosecuting.

Harm and Bud storm back to Garden Island, where Brumby introduces them to Captain Howard of the HMAS Brisbane, who welcomes them both.

"Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to be here."
"You don’t look it."
"Sir?"
"You look like the beer-bosun cut your ration."

Smirk, from Brumby. Harm starts to voice his objections to the organisation of the case, but a confused Howard interrupts, telling him that Brumby was appointed prosecutor after the Supreme Court ruled that Harm could defend Lee. Harm gives Brumby a startled look, and he – surprise! – smirks. "That’s right, mate: you ‘n’ me!"

(We get no indication whatsoever of why the Supreme Court ruled that Harm could defend Lee, or even of who made the application; but since the whole point of this episode is to get Harm and Brumby facing off in the courtroom, we’ll just let this pass.)

At the airport, Seaman Dunsmore’s flag-draped coffin is being delivered. An on-looker approaches Brumby, announcing, "Ian’s mum told me you’re going to prosecute the seppo that murdered Ian!" Yup, it’s Friend #2! Friend #2 introduces himself as Barry Toohey, adding, "I’ve got a pub down in Balmain." Of course you do. God forbid anyone should ever suspect that every single Australian doesn’t spend every moment of the day surrounded by, if not drowning in, alcohol. Toohey adds that he knew Dunsmore well, as they served together on the Swan – which is odd, considering that the early scenes clearly established that they were from the Anzac. Brumby asks if Toohey knows anything about the murder. "I know enough to hang that seppo bastard!!" he snarls.

(No, Barry, actually you don’t. More on this in a minute.)

The ceremony – such as it was – over, Mac approaches Brumby. They salute formally, then go all giggly and gooey-eyed. Yecchh!! Mac, not yet over her cold, sneezes, and Brumby invites her to spend the rest of the day at the beach.

But – wait a minute! Those beaches are topless!! I mean, they’re not implying that Mac is going to----

Lyz does her impression of an American studio audience: WHOO-OOOO-OOOO-OOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

At Long Bay Jail, Kevin Lee paces up and down impatiently: Jenny is half an hour late for her interview with Harm. Harm sends Bud to call the restaurant, then reflects that Dunsmore’s body has probably arrived by now. Lee goes into some tastelessly cheerful reminiscences, reflecting that he owes everything to Dunsmore – his wife, his business. "If he’d spent that weekend with Jenny instead of with his mates----" "He wouldn’t have died, and you wouldn’t have deserted. Or – would you?" interrupts Harm bitterly. "You lost someone in Vietnam?" diagnoses Lee instantly. "Your father?" And yes, this is indeed Harm’s Secret Agony. (Or at least, one of them. Harm strikes me as the kind of guy who has about half a dozen Secret Agonies, which are trotted out in rotation as the show requires them.)

Harm continues to rant, finally telling Lee that while he’ll defend him on the murder charge, he won’t on the desertion charge. Lee splutters something about the administrative separation. "Lieutenant Roberts said that – I didn’t," Harm says ominously, then adds sulkily, "But unfortunately, he’s right." Lee begins to lose a little faith in his counsel. "How can I trust that you won’t let them hang me?" Hey, Kevin? You’re being tried in an Australian court under Australian law, and we have no death penalty – which after nearly thirty years in the country, you should know, you jerk!

Bud returns with the unwelcome news that Jenny was "too busy" to come to the phone. Lee laughs nervously. "That’s my Jenny – business before anything." "Even your life?" is the terse reply.

Brumby and Mac are on the Manly ferry, and Mac is rhapsodising over her surroundings. "The air’s so clean, and the water’s so blue----" "Few sharks in the water, though," Brumby interrupts – sharks being, after beer, the favourite Australian topic of conversation. Mac reacts as Bud did. "Sharks!?" "Yeah, not the man-eaters, though," Brumby reassures her. (No, from what we’ve seen in this, more like "man-nibblers".) "Sharks you gotta worry about wear speedos!" he adds with the inevitable smirk.

The camera pans down to the lower deck and we see that, miraculously, Harm and Bud have made the same ferry. Still more miraculously, they can’t hear Brumby and Mac even though they’re directly below them. Bud is whimpering about Harriet, which continues until the ferry arrives at Manly. Brumby and Mac find a spot on the beach, and the colonel strips down to her bikini. Brumby then suggests that she adopt "the Aussie bikini" – i.e. a bikini bottom and a hat. Mac looks around and – being female – notices for the very first time that she’s positively surrounded by bare breasts (nipples all carefully concealed, of course – criminy, this is worse than one of those sixties "nudist" films!).

Harm and Bud catch up with Jenny, who is handling the Uluru’s lunch-hour rush, and refuses to talk to them. Harm deals with this by announcing, "DON’T YOU CARE IF YOUR HUSBAND’S CONVICTED OF MURDER??" in the middle of the restaurant – which convinces Jenny to step outside with them.

Mac, meanwhile, is trying to hang onto her dignity – and her bikini top. "Mic, I’m a Marine Colonel! I have to maintain a certain level of decorum!" "You’re not a Marine Colonel out here, Mac," Brumby responds, moving behind her, "you’re the most beautiful woman on the beach." And he begins pulling at her bikini ties as Mac, giggling nervously, suggests that he re-tie them behind her back – "to avoid strap marks".

Harm, Bud and Jenny walk along the Steyne. Jenny tells the others that she told Brumby all she knows, and reveals, with bitterness, that she only just found out that Kevin Lee was married with a child before he met her. As people in TV shows and movies are wont to do, the three of them then sit on a public bench and, surrounded by strangers, proceed to discuss murder and bigamy at the top of their lungs. Jenny describes the death of Ian Dunsmore.

"So they fought?"

"Like a couple of dingoes!"

Jenny concludes her story, which, in Harm’s opinion, bears a suspiciously close resemblance to Lee’s version of events. He tries to convince her that they just want to know the truth – what she remembers. Jenny begins to break down. "What I remember will hang him!" she blurts (no, it won’t!), and runs away. Harm stares after her in alarm. Bud, however, is looking elsewhere.

"Sir!" he gasps. "Is that Colonel Mackenzie – TOPLESS!!??"

WHOO-OOOO-OOOO-OOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

End Of Part One

Why wait?  Go on to Part Two!!

-Review by Liz Kingsley