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JABOOTU DOWN UNDER

Guest  Reviews  By  Liz  Kingsley

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Apologetic authorial introduction: As it turns out, the second part of this enthralling story is nowhere near as painful as the first, at least from my point of view (if I were a lawyer, I might feel differently) – far less local colour, far more legal manoeuvring. Which means, of course, far less for me to get my teeth into. This being the case, I’ve permitted myself a couple of lengthy and almost totally un-comedic digressions on the way through, for which I will beg your pardon in advance.

And now – to business:

You know, watching the opening of this episode made me go Ken Begg all over….

Let me explain: in his review of Fair Game, Ken rightly complained about the way the film had been marketed. In a nutshell (if that’s not an inappropriate term in this context), the public had been promised Cindy Crawford’s breasts. Yet when the film was released, it conspicuously failed to deliver. Ken’s argument was not that he particularly wanted to see Cindy Crawford’s breasts (and I believe him! Really!), but rather that having dangled this carrot in front of the paying public, Joel Silver & Co. were under at least a moral obligation to ante up.

This is more or less how I felt, as the much publicised "MAC GOES TOPLESS" plot thread worked itself out – or rather, didn’t - before me. It was no surprise, of course, that we saw no actual nudity (at least, not from the American star….). After all, as David James Elliott so primly explained at the time, JAG is an "8 p.m. show". What was something of a shock was the realisation that they weren’t even going to reveal whether Colonel Mackenzie was topless or not. I guess this was in keeping with the will she/won’t she tone of the show’s central romantic triangle (which may have resolved itself by this time, for all I know), but after all the huffing and puffing, it struck me as a particularly wimpy cop-out.

Anyway….

We open with still more picturesque location shots. Surfers. Lifesavers. Breasts. We get a brief shot of Mac and Brumby, she reading a magazine held before her chest, and he reading – or at least looking – over her shoulder. (A question: why is everyone on this beach sitting with their back to the water!?)  [Editor Ken: So they may be whilst filmed facing the camera with a scenic oceanscape behind them.] Harm and Bud stumble down the beach. An obliging, and well-endowed, blonde waits until the two men are directly in front of her, then rips off her top, continuing to hold it over her head until her appreciative audience (the in-show audience that is, naturally) has looked its fill. As the two men approach, Mac rests the magazine against her chest, leaving her bare shoulders exposed. And that it is, people; for all the hoo-ha, that is it.

(Oh, what the heck. They paid their money, they might as well get the benefit: the magazine that Mac is using to hide her assets is a copy of Australian Style. [Heh! Now there’s an oxymoron for ya!])

As Harm stares helplessly, tilting his head from one side to the other in order to determine whether she is or isn’t, Mac makes small talk with Bud, confirming a dinner date made by Harriet. Finally catching Mac’s eye, Harm turns to the (sigh….) smirking Brumby, and the two immediately begin an argument over the ethics of Brumby interviewing Jenny. Mac finally interrupts, "Save it for the court! I am trying to defrost here!" "Well, don’t overexpose yourself!" retorts Harm. "You’ll burn!"

"Don’t worry, mate," Brumby cuts in – smirk, smirk – "I rubbed her down with plenty of sunblock!" Smirk, smirk.

Harm beats a tactical retreat at this point. As he and Bud walk away, Brumby calls after them, "Don’t forget your wigs when you come to court!"

"Wigs!?" chorus the horrified Americans.

And yes, dear readers, here we have the real reason this case is being tried in "Australian civil court": so they can put Harm in a wig and gown and have a good old snigger at our court procedure. We cut to the next day, with a nice shot down from the top floor of the Strand Arcade. Bud is telling horror stories about his dinner with Mac. "She ate three dozen oysters! Sucked them right out of their shell! Ugh!" But that, we hear, wasn’t the worst of it. "Her main dish was something called a "bug"! Actually, it was some kind of shellfish. But still, to eat anything called a bug - !?"

(Whoo, boy! Fancy an American criticising what the rest of the world eats!? The "bug" in question, by the way, is Ibacus peronii, aka the shovel-nose lobster, aka the Balmain bug. Tasty, but too much work.)

We then cut inside a store, and see Harm trying on a wig and gown in front of a mirror. The man assisting him is English, and the soundtrack finally gives the didgeridoo music a rest. We hear Rule, Britannia instead, and spend a few minutes getting a feel for how David Bellisario thinks English people speak and act. This painful little interlude leads to the observation that "Australian perukes" were never up to "English standards". And finally, here it comes: "But then, of course, this country was settled with convicts. What can one expect?"

Agonised authorial interjection: Well, you didn’t honestly think we were going to make it through this without hearing a crack about that, did you?

You know, we do tend to hear a great deal from English people about our "convict ancestry" (usually after we’ve flogged them at cricket or football – although why getting beaten by a bunch of convicts makes it better….!?), but the inference that all Australians are descended from irredeemably evil career criminals is a tad off the mark. For one thing, as crooks go, the ones who ended up here were a pretty unimpressive bunch; I fancy Winona Ryder could outdo most of them with one arm tied behind her back. 

For another, I’m sure it would come as an enormous disappointment to many English people – not to mention scriptwriters worldwide – if it were to be brought to their attention just what a tiny percentage of today’s Australians have any convict ancestry, although the people who do tend, perversely, to be fiercely proud of the fact. This is particularly true of those descended from Irish convicts, a great many of whom were transported for, effectively, being Irish (or loitering with intent, if you prefer). Not surprisingly, a significant number of the people sentenced to transportation died; while after the first couple of decades the free settlers easily outnumbered the convicts. But the bottom line is that the vast majority of Australia’s current population is descended from people who arrived during one of the three massive waves of post-war immigration - the third war being Vietnam. Our government of the time felt so guilty about getting involved in the conflict, that they accepted a record number of Vietnamese refugees; far more, for instance, than were accepted into the US.

And there’s another reason why we have very few people with convict ancestry around today: during World War I, Australia had easily the highest level of casualties, proportionally, of any of the Allied nations. This came about chiefly because the British, who had command of our troops, used them any time there was a dirty job to be done – a suicide mission, a diversionary feint – rather than risk their own men. After all, they reasoned, the Australians came of tainted stock – wasn’t it better that they should die rather than British soldiers? While families in Australia were left devastated by the wholesale loss of fathers, husbands and sons, the policy was rationalised in Britain as a form of, yes, cleansing….

(And she jumped down off her soapbox….)

The sales assistant continues to blather on about the quality of English wigs, telling Harm that the firm the shop deals with has been in the business since "the War Of The Insurrection".

"That’s a war I haven’t heard of."
"I believe you Americans call it – the Revolutionary War!"

(Speaking of which – for all the taunting we endure about our "convict ancestry", there’s one tiny point that never seems to rate a mention: that the British only started shipping convicts to Australia after the Revolutionary War, when they could no longer ship them to America….)

That evening, Harm and Mac take a ferry to Luna Park. Insert picturesque views of the harbour by moonlight. Harm is telling Mac that he saw the elusive Clayton Webb again – different gorgeous woman, different language – and this suddenly propels the two into a discussion of their own relationship – and even whether or not they have one. Just in case we haven’t already gotten the message, we’re given more evidence that Harm is unable to come to terms with, let alone express, his feelings for Mac – this being conveyed primarily through David Elliott’s extraordinary face-pulling, which is mostly suggestive of constipation. Finally, frustrated, Mac demands, "You just can’t let go, can you?" (Hmm…. All of a sudden, I’m sorry I made a constipation joke….) Harm tries to explain that he’s only this way with her; he even – gasp! – calls her Sarah; but alas for both of them, the ferry docks – and Mac learns to her disappointment that rather than dinner, what Harm has in mind is a little investigative work.

Agonised authorial interjection: Okay, I have to deal with this sometime, so it might as well be now.

As my colleague, Mr Begg, explained in his introduction, Australia has long been considered the "port of choice" for American sailors looking for female, uh, companionship during their shore-leave. And indeed, the arrival of any American warship in Sydney is invariably greeted by an abrupt influx of local women. While much of this behaviour can rightly be attributed to the most obvious of motives, there’s also something else behind it – something that might not be so readily apparent to the outside observer.

Australian men, whatever their virtues, are – how shall I put this? – not known for their communication skills. This taciturnity is the surface expression of a psychological condition created over the years by the very harshness of the country. While silent, dogged endurance and stoicism may have been necessary survival techniques during the founding of modern Australia – and while they still come in handy today during bushfires, cyclones, floods, mudslides and the occasional earthquake - they brought with them a few unfortunate side-effects, including some painfully repressive notions of what "being a man" entails. Ranked high in the tenets of this manifesto is the one that dictates that you do not show your feelings; that the more you feel, the less you show; and that, above all, you do not talk about it. As you might imagine, this mind-set has some very deleterious effects on the state of relationships in this country, a depressing number of which end up foundering on the inevitable lack of communication.

This situation goes a long way towards explaining the actions of those Australian women who throw themselves with such gusto into the paths of visiting American sailors. Aside from their purely biological motivations, which I don’t deny have a lot to do with their behaviour, there is the added attraction of spending some time with a man who can talk to a woman without giving himself a hernia in the process.

Which brings us back to JAG, and its central triangle.

I realise, of course, that given that Harmon Rabb Jr is the strong, silent, repressed type, it was inevitable that his romantic rival, who ever he ended up being, was going to be an emotionally open, heart-on-his-sleeve type. That is how things work in Television Land. The problem, of course, is that David Bellisario et al. decided to make that romantic rival Australian….

There’s a lot to complain about in these episodes of JAG. The transparent plot, the cardboard cut-out characterisations, the idiotic dialogue…. But all of that pales in comparison with the catastrophic flaw at their very heart. To have Sarah Mackenzie so frustrated by the behaviour of a silent and emotionally repressed American man that she finds herself drawn to the openness and emotional honesty of an Australian man….well, what can I do but quote Galaxy Quest’s Guy Fleegman?

"Ohhhhhh, that’s – not - RIGHT!! Nooooo…."

(In fact, it’s so very "not right" that I’m tempted to trot out that old saw about which part of their bodies Australian men use most during foreplay….but I guess that would be unfair. Not to mention incredibly tacky.)

Harm wanders over the dock where the murder took place. Mac obligingly screams, proving Jenny’s statement about her screams not being heard. The two begin to re-enact the incident, up to the point where Lee claims Dunsmore tripped over a cleat and fell on his knife. Harm then realises that there are no cleats – the ferries are tied up to pylons – and further, that anyone tripping as described would land in the water, not on the dock. These revelations send Harm back to interview Lee again. The prisoner becomes nervous, admitting that perhaps he was wrong about the cleats. Harm points out that Jenny also mentioned cleats and accuses Lee of having coached her. He further reveals that Jenny claimed her true evidence could hang Lee (even though – well, you get the point by now….) Lee is stunned, but finally concludes that Jenny is "throwing a scare into him" as punishment for his bigamous marriage.

And on that note, the trial begins (yikes! I don’t know what that building is, but it sure ain’t our Supreme Court!), and we settle down into an irritating parade of alpha-male behaviour. After the preliminaries (including the judge thanking Harm for wearing "the proper attire"), Brumby goes to make his opening statement, and Harm immediately interrupts. To cut a long story short, it turns out that the supposed murder victim has yet to be formally identified.

Yes, that’s right: legal eagle Mic Brumby didn’t bother to get Ian Dunsmore’s body identified before going into court….

(Didn’t anyone in the US check the identity of the body before they shipped it halfway around the world? Kind of embarrassing if they buried the wrong person for the second time.)

Unlikely as this all is, it serves its "dramatic" purpose, which is to get Harm one up over Brumby. The score becomes 2-0 when Harm successfully argues that Lee should be released into US custody while the identification is underway.

The judge calls a recess, and everyone piles outside and down the front steps. (I’ll hazard a guess, and say those steps were the reason this building was cast as the "courthouse".) Harm and Lee are immediately swamped by reporters and cameramen, and stop to give an interview (something that really doesn’t happen here). Brumby mutters something about Lee being "quite the thespian", and suggests to Mac that Harm is simply "delaying the inevitable".

"I wouldn’t feel so sure, Mic."
"Who are you rooting for, Mac?"

Linguistics with Lyz: Ah, yyyyyyyyeah, I think a simple "Whose side are you on?" might have been more appropriate here. Let’s just say that the expression "rooting" has a somewhat different connotation in Australia than it does in America, and leave it at that.

The interview goes on (with Channel 7’s Monique Wright really hamming it up in her cameo appearance as a pushy TV reporter [kind of sad when people can’t even play themselves convincingly….]), until Harm finally calls a halt. The camera pulls back, and we see the Dunsmore faction watching in anger. Sure enough, Barry Toohey (aka Friend #2) launches himself, shouting, "Bloody seppo murderer!!" and punches Lee. Harm grabs Toohey, and Lee takes the opportunity to punch Toohey back before being grabbed by Brumby. The two Commanders glare furiously at each other before shoving their clients aside to take a swing at each other. Naturally, Bud chooses this precise moment to intervene. The men’s fists connect soundly with either side of his face, leaving his jaw completely smashed – something that is, music score and all, played for comedy…. Wah-wah-waah….

This incident brings Admiral Chegwidden to Australia, and he and his local counterpart tear strips off their errant underlings. Bud sticks up for his assailants, and we begin the show’s most painful running gag, with Bud unable to speak beyond "Mmmph gmmph hmmph" and Mac having to act as translator. Chegwidden finally asks the men whether they will accept "non-judicial punishment" and hauls them off to a – I dunno, a garage, I guess - ordering them to "strip blouses" and inflict on each other "the same amount of pain you inflicted on Lieutenant Roberts".

(We don’t see this fight, of course, and for a very simple reason: Brumby’s supposed to be an ex-boxer, I believe [Trevor Goddard, who plays him, certainly is one]. In reality, it’s kind of hard to picture any outcome but Brumby taking Harm apart – something the producers tacitly confess by keeping the conflict off camera. Luckily for Harm, however, he is protected by his status as Romantic Lead; and consequently both men emerge with little more than some artistic bruising.)

Back in the courtroom, the Commanders explain that they have been in "an accident", but are ready to proceed. Brumby makes his opening statement, making much of Lee’s desertion and his abandonment of his first wife and child, and rather grandiosely promising that he will prove that Dunsmore was killed "cold-bloodedly and with premeditation". Harm rightly responds by dismissing the side issues, and insists the killing was an accident. The first witness called is Barry Toohey, who practically froths at the mouth as Harm questions him, and stupidly claims that Dunsmore "never owned a knife in his life" – something even I know isn’t true, as knives are standard RAN issue. Toohey is further forced to admit he didn’t see the fatal confrontation, and retires snarling and glaring. The next witness called by Brumby is "Miss Jenny Brooker". Harm goes ballistic, and an extended argument over whether she is or is not Lee’s legal wife ensues. The judge approves of Harm’s "creative" argument (Lee was declared dead in Tennessee, and his "widow" remarried), but rules in favour of Brumby. Yes, that’s right! – he’s actually allowed to win a point! (Don’t panic – there’s a reason….)

Another recess is called (how obliging of the judge! – there wouldn’t be half as much "drama" in this episode if he didn’t keep calling recesses!). Mac and Bud have a mmmph grmmph – I mean, a conversation. In the course of this, Bud reveals that Harm and Brumby were really (duh!) fighting over her. From here we cut to the courtroom, where Brumby is asking Jenny whether she enjoyed having two men fighting over her (wow – art!). Brumby then demands that Jenny come forward and re-enact the knife-fight with him. In the middle of doing so, she loses it, finally breaking down and confessing that it was Kevin who pulled the knife, Kevin who delivered the fatal blow….

In his cell (during yet another recess), Kevin Lee is frantic. As Harm presses him, he admits that he signed all of his assets over into Jenny’s name.

"Jen doesn’t care about money. She’s always wanted to go back to Woolgoolga. Don’t need much money to live there…."

Harm starts to ask rather pointed questions about how Jenny spends her spare time, and learns that she takes "art classes". Cut to The Rocks at night. Bud and Harm are standing outside a gallery specialising in aboriginal art (of course), which is owned by one Harold Storum.

"Thmmph lmmph ammph wmmph ummph!"
"You know, there was a lot of aboriginal art on the walls of Uluru!"
"Thmmph wmmph smmph!"
"Is that what you said?"
"Ymmph!"
"Sorry, Bud!"

The two are watching a townhouse, and sure enough, Jenny and Harold Storum walk out into the street, their arms around one another. Harm and Bud follow them, video camera in hand. The streets of The Rocks are mysteriously deserted, but in spite of this, Jenny and her paramour fail to notice the two Naval officers galumphing along in their wake. (I got my MST3K Mitchell DVD the other day, and in that spirit I’d just like to say – Harm and Bud are two of the great followers….) Giggling, hugging and finally kissing, Jenny and Harold are trailed all the way down to the dock, where they climb into a motor-boat and power off. Cut to the courtroom, where Harm is displaying the damning video. Jenny confesses that she lied before, that she’d been trying to get rid of Kevin while keeping his business and his money. A "Not Guilty" verdict is brought in, and Lee is remanded into the custody of the US Navy. Harm tells him he’ll still have to return to the States to face his desertion charge, but if he makes financial restitution, he’ll get off with the promised administrative separation. Lee begs for one night’s freedom, to patch things up with Jenny, and Harm grants it.

Mac, Chegwidden and Brumby all crowd around, congratulating Harm on his victory. (You know, I have the distinct feeling that if, by some scriptwriting miracle, the situation were reversed, Harm wouldn’t be half as gracious as Brumby is here.) Harm can’t resist the opportunity to needle his rival some more, and Mac responds by inviting Brumby to dinner. Cut to yet another ferry (believe it or not, it is possible to go out to dinner in Sydney without boarding a ferry), backed by still more picturesque night shots of the harbour. Brumby is in dress uniform, which Mac comments upon, and hears that it’s "a special occasion". The pair end up on the front deck of the ferry – where they rather improbably find themselves alone – and Mic Brumby proposes marriage – thus:

"I’m in love with you, Sarah. Shhh…. For once in your life, just listen. I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. I’ve never acted so foolishly, or ached so hard in my heart, in all my life. No, let me finish, please, while I still have the strength. I knew that getting you to love an ocker like me would take a miracle. Look! I’m praying one will fall from the Southern Cross tonight!"

Agonised authorial interjection: Eeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!

You know – all of a sudden the natural taciturnity of the average Australian male seems strangely attractive….

(Still, I’ll say this for Trevor Goddard: he seems perfectly well aware that he’s "acting foolishly"….)

Brumby then produces a ring. Mac hesitates.

"It’s impossible, Mic!"
"Once you’d’ve said that me holding you in my arms under the Southern Cross was impossible!"

(Yeah, I think you wanna give that line a rest, Mic….)

Mac tries to protest some more, but Brumby stops her, telling her he knows how difficult it will be, but that he’s willing to make any sacrifice, if only she’ll be his wife. Mac begs for time to think. Brumby agrees, convincing her to wear his ring on her right hand until she’s made up her mind, and then they kiss.

This tender moment is interrupted by a roaring motor-boat, in which sit Kevin Lee, Jenny Brooker and Harold Storum, who are laughing and joking and shouting, "Freedom!" Brumby and Mac stare at them in horrified disbelief.

"That bastard! Jenny’s affair was a set-up!"
"The jury wouldn’t believe a loving wife, but they would a cheating wife who was trying to convict her husband!"
"Kevin wanted Harm to catch them and then break her on the stand!"
"My God! That’s brilliant!"

Yes, I imagine that’s what Agatha Christie thought, when she came up with that particular twist nearly seventy years ago.

Cut to the airport, and we see that the JAG crew is also leaving aboard QANTAS’s "Wunala Dreaming". What are the odds against that, I wonder? Kevin Lee wanders in, chatting cheerfully until he senses a certain chill in the air. "Anything wrong?" he falters. "No," replies Harm, "something’s finally right. Bud?" Bud steps behind Lee and starts to handcuff him, Mmmph gmmph-ing him his rights as he does so. "You get everything sorted out with Jenny?" Harm asks the puzzled Lee.

"Oh, yes, sir, thanks to you! Jen never really loved the bugger! We’re moving to Woolgoolga when I get back."

And with that, gentle readers, we bid farewell to the town of Woolgoolga. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to miss it….

Mac then makes a crack about the motor-boat, and slowly it dawns on Lee that his cunning plan has been thwarted. "Though we can’t try you again for Murder One," Harm tells him grimly, "I am going to nail you for desertion in a time of war!" "I hope you go for the death penalty, mate!" chips in Brumby. "Absolutely – mate," confirms Harm, and Lee is hauled away.

The moral of this story, folks? Commit murder if you must; desert if you feel like it; but God help you – God help you! – if you expose the gullibility and incompetence of a US Navy JAG officer!!

Chegwidden then turns to Mac and helpfully inquires whether congratulations are in order? Mac, embarrassed, points out that the ring is on her right hand. "For now," comments Brumby. Harm is doing his usual impression of still-life on a shingle, and Chegwidden drags him away. Brumby and Mac kiss goodbye…. Chegwidden advises Harm not to look back, but he does of course; and if he isn’t turned into a pillar of salt, well, it’s only because Commander Harmon Rabb Jr pretty much is one already…..

The End

Footnote: Special thanks to my "legal advisor", sparring-partner and dear friend, Commander Adam Benson, USNR, for his assistance with this review.

-Review by Liz Kingsley