I want to talk about M*A*S*H. The 50-year-old show that, completely unexpectedly, has captured my heart and mind. I finished the series just over one week ago and had to force myself not to immediately begin a rewatch. Now that I’ve had a bit of time to process, though, I’m eager to dive and dig back in, to pick apart what makes this show tick and what made it resonate with me. I want to take my time this go-around (though I expect that will be difficult) and document my thoughts on episodes and characters as the show morphs and grows. I don’t know if I’ll make posts for every episode (that’s a lot) or how long I can keep this up tbh, and I make no promises as to the eloquence or deepness of all my reactions (sometimes you just wanna stare at Mike Farrell’s fuzzy chest amirite). But this show left my brain buzzing with how much there is to talk about and, well, it’s my blog, so here goes.
Korea, 1950: a hundred years ago
What a line to open on. When the show first aired in 1972, it was only 22 years ago. But maybe for audiences jaded by 7 years of direct American entanglement in Vietnam, the first war with moving images broadcast directly into living rooms across the nation, swiftly drawing to an embarrassing and disastrous conclusion, this other war did seem like a hundred years ago. That other, “lesser” war sandwiched between the heroically fought Second World War and the unprecedentedly divisive living nightmare of Vietnam. The supertitle is a simultaneous reminder to the audience of a conflict not often discussed around dinner tables, despite its relative recency (almost as recent to them then as the Iraq War is to us now), and an acknowledgment of how very, very distant it feels. What fascinates me most is how it positions the story we’re about to see as a fable of sorts from a distant time and place, presaging--somewhat paradoxically--the show’s perpetual relevance. This is Korea. It is also every war.
Then, the rest of the cold open. Visual storytelling at its finest! In a brief series of images we glean not only a sense of who our major players are at their cores, but also the notion that at the 4077, not all is as it seems. Two men in Hawaiian shirts playing golf: a familiar sight, until--kaboom, the ball lands in a minefield. A surgeon and nurse work over an unseen patient--oh, no, it’s a bottle of champagne. A man and woman in uniform studiously read a Bible and medical manual--while playing footsie under the table. So, Hawkeye and Trapper are the happy-go-lucky types who don’t see being in a war zone as any reason not to get their kicks where they can; Henry may appear official on the outside (though as we’ll soon see, rarely even that) but really he’s concerned with having a good time with a nurse (it strikes me this could also be an appropriate establishing situation for our two leads, but it’s even more fitting for Henry who is consistently negligent in his duties as Commanding Officer for the sake of sensual indulgence); and Margaret and Frank put on a hypocritical show of military and Christian officiousness while succumbing to their baser desires like anyone else.
Perhaps the implied injunction to look beneath the surface is nothing more than a promise to audiences of what kind of comedy the show will deliver. Perhaps it’s a commentary on the absurdity of life in wartime and under military jurisdiction (people will be people, no matter how many rule books you throw at them). I doubt the show intended this at the time, but I also see an early indication of the ethos that will come to permeate the series: that the truth--and often, our shared humanity--is found in looking closer, not making snap judgments based on superficial features. In any case, this much is clear: your expectations will be subverted. What is familiar becomes foreign, what’s foreign is familiar. It’s a topsy-turvy world. That’s the oldest root of comedy; it’s also war.
“Par is a live patient”
We get Hawkeye’s first “Dear Dad” over our first O.R. scene, conveniently filling us in on the what and why of the 4077 and meatball surgery. It’s also a thesis statement of sorts. They’re there to save lives, not for glory or to be pretty or precious about their work. Life: the number one concern of a doctor, and the number one thing that war takes away. In some ways, a doctor in a war zone is a paradox. This will be Hawkeye’s struggle straight through to the end of the series. He’s more needed here than he could be at any General Practice or stateside hospital, but what the hell is he doing here? He keeps fixing bodies--just enough to keep them clinging to life--only for the war and the army he works for to keep breaking them.
Back at the Swamp, Hawkeye voices a sentiment we’ll often hear repeated over the 11 seasons to come: invite the North and South to a cocktail party. Last one standing wins the war. Here, it’s a throwaway joke, but as we’ll come to see, the tragedy of Hawkeye Pierce is that he simply cannot grasp, cannot accept, how human beings, given the chance to just talk to one another, cannot come to an understanding, or at least an agreement, and settle their differences without resorting to killing.
All right, on to Lieutenant Dish. The scheme to auction off a nurse, even for the good cause of sending Ho-Jon to college in the States, is cringe-inducing today, as is the awkward montage of Hawkeye’s dogged pursuit of the lieutenant. The show’s misogyny, especially in its early seasons, is by far the hardest aspect for me to stomach. If, however, you take what is shown at face-value, as intended, there’s no harm, no foul here. The Dish-Hawkeye dynamic walks a thin line. Yes, she rejects him over and over and he ignores her over and over. Yet, even as she claims to be saving herself for her fiance, Dish seems indulgent towards Hawkeye, and later at the party even flirtatious. So, she enjoys the attention. Convenient and typical of an attractive woman written by and for men. At the same time, it doesn’t take any stretch of imagination to see that flirtation and sex are some of the only outlets available to the women of the camp, and that they could enjoy it just as much as the men.
I do want to know what the hell the plan was with the raffle of the weekend passes. Father Mulcahy winning is simply too convenient. (Incidentally, I feel robbed of seeing William Christopher react to his name being drawn. I’m looking forward to more familiar faces rounding out the supporting cast.)
The party scene also provides the stark juxtaposition of revelry and Hawkeye dancing cheek-to-cheek with his conquest with the sobering reality of their purpose, the raison d’être of the whole camp. To his credit, Hawkeye looks appropriately grave as he informs Margaret that they’ll be operating on a fresh batch of wounded within hours. While the 4077 dances and drinks, Canadian troops are fighting and dying not far off. Not only is this the linchpin of the episode, the get-out-of-jail-free card for Hawkeye and Trapper after all their shenanigans behind Henry’s back, but also a stamp of credibility for so much of the show. How on earth can these clowns get away these schemes, in the army, of all places? Because they are indispensable. Not only are they surgeons, they are the best at what they do. And once again the hypocrisy of army rules and regulations reveals itself; if everything were done by the book, to the letter, the army would cease to function. It would regulate and court martial itself into obsolescence. (Though, as is pointed out more than once in later episodes, would that really be a bad thing?)
Okay, some more thoughts, now as bullet points so I can wrap this up:
I’m watching without the laugh track, and boy is its absence obvious here in a way it never is later on. The pacing is off, much of the comedy wooden. Still, I prefer this subdued, awkward version of the show to the one with the incongruous canned audience. I think watching it this way allowed me to see so much more.
We get a “Come on, Mary” from Hawkeye to Trapper in the first six minutes! And they facetiously, effeminately point their noses in the air in unison as they walk away from Frank. They’re so in sync straight from the start and I love to see it.
I’m so glad the show left these awkward montages and flashbacks (Hawkeye with Dish, Margaret with General Hammond) behind.
Margaret’s limp hair and awful bangs make me sad.
I forgot The Still (tm) is not with us from the start! I assume they build it after Frank breaks their rudimentary barrel gin mill.
Oh, the bucket hat. Odd that it stays with us in the opening credits for the entire series run, when it feels so odd to see Hawkeye wearing it.
Radar is a surprisingly smooth operator here, even devious. He’s no dummy but it’s odd seeing him like this before he became more the wide-eyed innocent kid.
What is the true origin of “Hot Lips”?? Hawkeye calls her that seemingly off the cuff, and her reaction makes it seem like it’s a new nickname. Then Hammond shows up and calls her the same thing. Is this simply a case of Impossible Coincidence Played for Comedy?
I don’t think I got it the first time around that Margaret recognizes the gauze-covered Frank by his butt when she goes to give him the injection. One of the better jokes of the episode imo.
I listened to the Mashcast podcast for the episode and they were puzzled by the use of Japanese covers of popular songs. I assume that this was because Japan was so firmly established as a base of US military operations, a place every G.I. would pass through on their way to Korea, and where they would hope to go for R&R. I assume (but have not done research to confirm) that radio stations they might get would play Japanese tunes like this. The Japanese cover of “Happy Days,” for instance, seems like a nostalgic choice for US servicemen of the era.
Biggest laugh for me: Such a simple moment, but when Hawkeye and Trapper come into Henry’s office and shake hands with a “How are you, Henry?” and he responds, a little wary and knowing, a little sad-sack, “That’s not what you guys came to ask. I mean, the last thing you wanna know when you ask ‘how are you’ is how am I.” God, I really love Henry.
Parting thoughts: In retrospect, the pilot does a better job than I would’ve suspected in setting up not only the characters but also the lasting themes of the show, even while striking a tone a world away from what the show would become. Not a particularly good or funny episode, but it’s rewarding to rewatch and see the pebble drop into the pool, sending out the rings that will reverberate far into the future.
This episode does everything the pilot does, only better. It contains a thesis statement of sorts--this time, surprisingly, in the mouth of Henry Blake to Frank Burns: “We can’t be so G.I. we lose patients”; it contains a broad introduction to the camp’s zaniness and co-ed shenanigans, which General Barker experiences as he wanders around looking for Col. Blake; it deftly illustrates the main relationship dynamics of the camp, especially between Frank and Margaret; it puts proof to the claim that Hawkeye is the best surgeons around; it even repeats the beat of a general coming around to apologize for judging Hawkeye prematurely. It also does something the pilot does not; it establishes one of the few permanent changes that will occur in the early seasons, in the form of Hawkeye being named Chief Surgeon. If this change was going to occur so early anyway, my narrative-structure-loving brain insists that this would make a perfect inciting incident for the series as a whole. Overall, this episode strikes me as the Pilot that should have been.
We open with the excellent image of Trapper John using two bedpans for a foot soak. What could sum up the spirit of Trapper and Hawkeye better? Hospital equipment--designed specifically as shit receptacles, no less--appropriated for personal pleasure, a sorry approximation of what they’d rather be doing and where they’d rather be (much like golf in the minefield, or any time the two of them sip martinis together in lawn chairs in front of the Swamp). It also serves a practical purpose related directly to one of the many discomforts associated with their work; Trapper complains that he wishes they’d let them operate sitting down. The long hours in O.R. will be a well of discomfort the show draws from again and again; here they’re evoked through an efficient, characterful visual gag.
While Trapper is soaking and Hawkeye is drinking a martini and hugging a guitar (does he even play it? An odd detail, chosen for its aesthetic more than anything, I suspect), Frank has been busy typing away. He interjects, “Haven’t you two anything better to do when you’re off-duty than to lie around and swill gin?” This peevish comment not only sets him apart from Trapper and Hawkeye, it also introduces the main conflict. The driving force of the episode is the clash of personalities between Hawkeye and Frank: an interpersonal conflict, for the first time, rather than an externally imposed one. While both internal and external conflict can lend themselves to good storytelling, it’s satisfying to see a show able to mine its own cast of characters for motivated plot lines this early in the game, and it breaks up the repetitive pattern of the the previous three episodes.
The following exchange about what Frank is typing offers us Frank Burns in a nutshell, fully formed as he has not yet been presented to us. He’s writing his patients back home--not because he’s concerned for them, mind you; they’re form letters, he tells Hawkeye without shame. No, Frank Burns is concerned only for himself and retaining the patients whom he sees as nothing but the cash cows that have allowed him to buy his infamous “$35,000 house and two cars.” The exaggeration of his military exploits in his letters also give us a taste of Frank’s jingoism and yearning for wartime glory.
The bickering continues in O.R. and comes to a head when Oliver, a brain surgeon, asks the others what to do about a pancreatic injury. Frank and Hawkeye give conflicting answers; Frank’s is by the book, but Hawkeye’s is based on more recent medical knowledge. “You’re a year behind in journals,” he accuses. This humiliation prompts Frank to file a complaint with Col. Blake pressing charges against Hawkeye, which in turn prompts Col. Blake to appoint a head surgeon to avoid future conflict.
“You may just turn out to be one of the good guys yet, Henry.”
Henry’s unorthodox decision to make Hawkeye Chief Surgeon, despite Frank outranking him, is a turning point for his character. It’s the first time he’s been more than passively aligned with Hawkeye; he’s actually taking a stance for the moral position of the show, and at some personal risk. He knows Hawkeye is the better surgeon, but is wary of his irreverent ways. “Don’t let me down,” he tells Hawkeye, and Hawkeye responds, “Would I do anything to disgrace this uniform?” He’s wearing, of course, nothing but his boxers, undershirt, and robe. But that outfit is the Hawkeye uniform. It represents the man and his values far better than his Class As. In a way, him swearing on his beloved ratty, red robe is as good a promise as you can get out of him. He’ll be the better Chief Surgeon because of who he is and because he puts the patients first, not the Army and its empty symbols. Henry knows this, and casts his lot with Hawkeye.
There’s an ironic exchange between Frank and Hawkeye in Henry’s office: Frank says, “You were still working in a hospital when they called you up,” (as opposed to Frank, who’d been in practice 3 years) to which Hawkeye says, “I realize it’s ridiculous for a doctor to work in a hospital. It really screws up your golf.” Presumably, working in a hospital has not earned Hawkeye a $35,000 house and two cars. Here the show seems to be venturing beyond its usual purview of poking fun at military hypocrisy to question American consumerism and supposed meritocracy at large.
The face of disappointment
The scenes between Frank and Margaret reveal the true underpinnings of their relationship. It’s not just a love of “the Army way” that unites them; it’s a parasitic feedback loop in which Frank turns to Margaret for comfort and validation of his masculinity, and Margaret enables his grovelling by babying him while longing for a “real” man. Margaret no doubt believes she can “fix” him. They both want the other to parent them, but only Frank gets his needs met. Later, when she and Frank are canoodling in her tent and he asks to be called “tiger,” it’s pretty clear she’s not really into it. Oh Margaret, you can do so much better! In light of this unsatisfying arrangement, I don’t find it hard to believe that she is happy to receive the attentions of the generals that pass through in these early days.
“What’d I get on the humble-meter?”
At Hawkeye’s “coronation ceremony,” he says the following in his speech: “When you live in a cruddy situation like this long enough, you get to love a few people, and even hate a few. I guess outside of our families, we’ll never be closer to anybody than we are to each other.” One of his hands is on Radar’s shoulder, the other on Trapper’s. There’s a moment of solemn silence, and then Trapper breaks in: “You finished?” Hawkeye asks him, “What’d I get on the humble-meter?” I can’t help but compare this moment to another Hakweye speech where he talks about his love for the 4077 family, the eulogy he gives in S11 Ep05 “Who Knew?” By that point the show, and Hawkeye himself, was far beyond the point of undercutting a heartfelt moment with humor. And by then, it’s truly earned, after Hawkeye’s been there nearly three years.
I suppose one could think that Hawkeye is being genuine here, and only pulls back due to Trapper’s interjection, but I don’t believe there’s anything in his characterization thus far to suggest that. The only times Hawkeye gets serious are when he’s angry. He doesn’t do sincere; not yet. This a perfect example of Hawkeye the irreverent performer. He says exactly the sort of thing one is “supposed” to say in that sort of speech, and then Trapper sets him up for the “humble-meter” punchline. Besides, he’s only been in Korea a few months at most. I don’t doubt his fondness for Radar and Trapper, but they’re not like family just yet.
Finally, General Barker arrives, answering Frank’s call (though of course, he really comes because of Margaret, of whom he clearly has fond memories). Frank complains that the new chief surgeon is keeping a patient waiting in surgery while he plays poker. As Hawkeye explains to Barker, he has a sound medical reason; he’s waiting for the patient to stabilize to see if operation is truly necessary, and has a nurse keeping close watch. As opposed to in the pilot, where General Hammond was convinced of Hawkeye and Trapper’s skill after witnessing a routine O.R. session, here Hawkeye’s medical judgment is directly questioned and then proven. When he finally is forced to operate on the patient, he explains to General Barker his rationale for going about the operation the way he does. He looks for a small hole in the patient’s lingula, something he only knows to check for through experience, and thus wins General Barker’s respect. We’re shown, not told, just how good Hawkeye is at his job and why he deserves to be Chief Surgeon.
“This place is a madhouse, Henry, a nut farm!”
General Barker’s little tour through the camp while looking for Henry is as fine a summation of the 4077 as any. He encounters no fewer than four amorous couples: the soldier hiding the prostitute under his poncho (I thought nurse at first, but the high heels and apparent shortness of her skirt seem to point toward working girl); Oliver and Ginger playing “strip dominoes,” a game I’m pretty sure they invented; Margaret and Frank, proving they’re no “better” than the rest of them; and Henry himself with a nurse, whom Henry, bless his heart, is excited to show the worms he’s caught for fishing. Barker also finds Radar posted up at Henry’s desk drinking his brandy and smoking his cigars while reading comic books. While this isn’t exactly in keeping with Radar’s later innocent and wide-eyed characterization, to me this is a perfect encapsulation of a child trying on the trappings of manhood. It especially strikes a chord when I think of how Radar would come to look up to Henry as a pseudo-father-figure. And, of course, Barker encounters Corporal Klinger, and finally it feels like I’m really watching MASH. When Barker informs Henry that the man on guard duty is wearing a skirt, Henry’s response is, “Yeah, well, luckily he’s got the legs for it!” It might have been meant as nothing but a throwaway joke, but I’m adding a point to the “Henry’s one of the good guys” column.
Other thoughts:
We get Hawkeye’s first mention of a sister, though I suspect it’s just a matter of speech; he needs his poker winnings so he can buy his sister a new truss (I assume in the medical sense of “a device worn to reduce a hernia by pressure,” which adds to my conviction that the whole thing is a joke)
Henry doesn’t seem all that bothered by Klinger appearing naked. I wish I could hear what he was saying to Barker.
Frank actually asks Hawkeye for help in the O.R. at the end! I would say that’s growth, but it doesn’t seem to stick.
Favorite line: the line that might have made me fall in love with MASH on my first watch, Hawkeye’s recipe for a perfect martini: “You pour six jiggers of gin and you drink it while staring at a picture of Lorenzo Schwartz, the inventor of vermouth.” (Although Hawk seems to have pulled this name out of his ass. Antonio Benedetto Carpano is credited with the invention of vermouth, while Joseph Noilly was the first to create a dry version, in 1813.)
A note: I won’t be attempting to do a write-up for every episode. I’m planning to skip to those I have the most to say about, or perhaps combine some strings of episodes together.
Dear M*A*S*H: S1 Ep 03 “Requiem for a Lightweight”
Previous episode here.
This episode follows much the same pattern established in the previous two; Hawkeye and Trapper encounter a problem. Hawkeye comes up with a devious plan to solve it. Trapper assists. Hijinks ensue.
I think it’s worth noting that I always saw Hawkeye as the main character of M*A*S*H and assumed that was the common perception. I’ve since come across the view that Trapper was meant to be an equal protagonist, and that his secondary role in these episodes was a mistake or unexpected. While I don’t claim to know all intentions or understandings behind the scenes, the pilot certainly primed me to see Hawkeye as the protagonist and Trapper as his wing man, and the next few episodes further reinforce that--not necessarily to the show’s benefit, as the formula already feels a little repetitive.
This episode departs from the established formula, though, in that what sets events in action is not the noble desire to send a Korean boy to college or procure medicine for patients, but the far baser desire to keep around a hot nurse whom Hawkeye and Trapper both want to bang. The show does make a point of the fact that she’s also a talented nurse, and to his credit, Hawkeye seems genuine when he tells Henry, “Real talent in the operating room is hard to find.” Given how much focus the episode puts on Hawkeye and Trapper competing for Nurse Cutler’s affections, however, and the fact that her supposed talent is demonstrated with a brief scene in which she... does exctly what every other nurse in the outfit does, it’s hard to believe that it’s her competence spurring the surgeons’ efforts to get her transferred back to the 4077. If only she had done something a little more extraordinary--noticed something a doctor or Houlihan missed, perhaps--the stakes would feel higher, more sympathetic, and more in line with the ethos of the show. The writing doesn’t convince me that anything bad would come of the failure of Hawk and Trap’s plan, which is never a good sign for the strength of a story. There are even plenty of other beautiful women whose pants they can try to get into, so it’s not like they’ll be forced into monkhood without her.
If Cutler weren’t so gorgeous, would they go to such lengths? I doubt it--unless, again, she’d done something more medically significant. But I suppose the writers didn’t think the audience would be as invested in good nursing as hot nurses, especially for a comedic premise. This is the kind of plotline I’m glad the show soon left behind.
One thing of interest to me is the chain of cause and effect between Margaret and our dynamic duo. It’s really their disrespect of Margaret that creates all of their problems in the first place. Margaret regards Hawkeye’s flirting with Cutler in OR with disapproval, but I don’t believe it’s until she attempts to confront him later that she makes up her mind to have Cutler transferred. Annoyed that Margaret is interrupting them chatting up Nurse Cutler, Hawk and Trap let loose on her before Margaret can get in a word. Notably, the insults focus on her womanhood and sexuality with quips such as “At least she didn’t have any trouble figuring out your sex.” It’s after this degrading exchange that Margaret decides to take drastic measures.
Hawkeye and Trapper’s animosity towards Margaret is of course further aroused by the news of the transfer. Yet later, when Trapper is practicing his punches for the big match using Frank’s duffel, Margaret passes by and Hawkeye offers a cordial, “Morning, Major” with no apparent ulterior motive. He turns back to Trapper as if expecting her to move on. Margaret is obviously caught off guard, though, and stops to reply “Good morning, Captain,” with a pleased smile. Surprisingly, Hawkeye continues the conversation rather civilly, though it’s clearly no invitation for her to stay and chat. Now, it’s possible, I suppose, that he’s baiting her with what she notices next; her good mood sours as she points out, “Isn’t that Frank’s bag?” that Trapper is punching. To my eyes, though, there’s nothing that indicates Hawkeye was expecting that turn, or the retort Trapper shoots back: “I thought you were Frank’s bag!”--though I could just as easily imagine this coming out of Hawkeye’s mouth. It’s yet another insult to Margaret’s femininity, and I wonder if what follows would have happened if Trapper had kept his trap shut.
I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Trapper is the one who stands to pay the price when Margaret attempts to foil their plan to cheat in the boxing match. Frank is against the ether plan on “principle” and, I suspect, simply because he doesn’t like Hawkeye and Trapper and would find it funny to see Trapper get hurt. For Margaret, who actually pulls the switcheroo of ether for water, I think it’s revenge of a more personal nature.
While Hawkeye and Trapper thus create all their own problems in this episode, the show doesn’t cast them in a bad light for it; at least, not for their insults to Margaret. What I do think the show is already implicitly poking fun at is Hawkeye’s Don Juan persona, which is so overdone with Cutler that I believe it was meant to make even contemporary audiences cringe. It’s a proper comeuppance when in the end she goes for Trapper instead, who hasn’t crowded her nearly as much.
It’s interesting too that for all Hawkeye’s Lothario tendencies, he’s hardly typically masculine in this episode. He’s no red-blooded all-American hero, ready to put his body in harm’s way for the woman he loves. He’s ready--eager even--to throw his friend under the bus and let him take the physical beat down. He readily admits, when Trapper questions his “bad shoulder,” that it’s “the result of being spineless.” It’s played for laughs, and the ending reinforces that the coward doesn’t get the girl; it’s also the clearest indication we’ve had yet of what an atypical protagonist Hawkeye is. We’re meant to admire and like him--for his principles, intellect, and compassion, not for his brash readiness for a fight or coolness in the face of danger. A coward he is not, as we’ll see time and again, but he is afraid, of many things, which the series will not shy away from exploring. But I’m getting ahead of myself. For now, suffice to say, John Wayne he most certainly ain’t.
More thoughts:
I didn’t realize before that at the beginning when they’re leaving the mess tent, Radar isn’t playing cards with Hawkeye and Trapper. They’ve roped him into being their table so they can continue their game on the way to OR.
It was a surprise to see Frank happily planting flowers and I actually felt bad when Trapper picked them all. This was probably just for the gag but now I’m wondering about gardening Frank headcanons.
Trapper’s “Only if you put those on” to Hawkeye as he fingers the pantyhose: he really didn’t have to lean in so close and say it so flirty. And yet he did.
I believe this is the first appearance of The Still 2.0! Not in its full glory yet; still rather rudimentary.
When the boxing opponent shows up, his C.O. asks if they can “rustle up some steaks” for him. Maybe that’s why they had steak on hand for Trapper’s black eye later, when we know good meat is a rare commodity at the 4077.
First appearance of William Christopher as Father Mulcahy! And in typical fashion he destroys Trapper with a single word of advice for the match: “Prayer.”
Biggest laugh runner up (couldn’t pick just one): Hawkeye on his fake bad shoulder: “Actually, I’m in pain most of the time. I don’t like to burden my friends,” made all the better by him trying to use the same line at the very end, only to get literally pushed off the bed as Cutler goes for Trapper. What can I say, I love loser Hawkeye.
Biggest laugh: Hawkeye to Trapper, Serious Face on: “You got a cute body.”
Parting thoughts: There are lots of good laughs here, but it just hasn’t got the substance or plot strength of the previous episode or even the pilot, something that might have been easily fixed by fleshing out Nurse Cutler’s competence and upping the stakes.
This is a tight episode that establishes some important recurring aspects of the series, namely the black market and idiocy, absurdity, and inefficiency of military bureaucracy and regulation. It is supremely ironic that Hawkeye and Trapper must scam to save lives; they must lie to the army in order to do the job the army expects and pays them to do--or at least, to do it well. Here is a further development on the theme established in the pilot, that the priority of these surgeons is saving lives, not merely ticking off boxes and following orders--doing things “the army way.” The episode provides a snapshot of how impossibly broken and corrupt the system they find themselves in is: black market and army both, each making the doctors’ jobs impossible, squeezing them from both sides.
The show never misses a chance to lampoon the brass: General Hammond won’t provide the hospital with more hydrocortisone, which will presumably save lives, because they’ve already received the allotted supply. Never mind if it was stolen; the box has been ticked off. And the General has more important things to do than talk to a lowly Lt. Colonel pleading for life-saving medicine; he has a meeting with MacArthur. Self-obsession, self-aggrandizement, and absurdly misplaced priorities are the hallmarks of the military and every antagonist on the show.
Crucially, the answer the characters provide to the problem of rampant theft is not stricter regulation and harsher discipline. If you can’t get rid of it, work with it. The solution to theft and the black market is: theft and the black market.
Charlie, the black market boss Hawkeye and Trapper go to see, is a stark contrast to General Hammond in many ways. First of all, check out his sweater and silk scarf. He looks relaxed and approachable. And the guy clearly cares about appearances, a fact Hawkeye picks up on and uses to his advantage. “For Charlie Lee, nothing but the best,” Charlie says with a winning smile and Midwestern accent. He’s personable, enjoys the finer things in life, and comes across as reasonable. No, he won’t help Hawk and Trap out of the goodness of his heart; he’s not running a charity. But he has real, concrete reasons for turning them down, unlike Hammond, who refused on empty, abstract principle. And when Hawkeye makes an offer that appeals to his vanity, he can’t refuse.
It’s also worth pointing out that Charlie and Hammond--who is simply the Brass of the Week--aren’t so different at their cores. There are plenty of instances over the course of the series wherein military men are shown to be equally susceptible to self-serving plans, even if they go against regulation. While not the focus of this episode, the hypocrisy of the brass and their “do as I say not as I do” attitude is often put in the spotlight. In this respect, the biggest difference between Charlie and Hammond is simply that Charlie never pretends to be anything he isn’t. The criminal world is like a fun house mirror to the military; it reflects back its human flaws, but wears them proudly on its sleeve.
You all know how it turns out; Henry’s oak desk, introduced as nothing but a gag about Henry’s own self-obsession, becomes the linchpin of the caper, the leverage that will allow Hawkweye and Trapper to get the hydrocortisone. Of course, stealing from one man overly concerned with appearances to give to another is presented as a morally correct action. Stealing from the rich, to give to the rich, and get what they need for the poor. Hawk and Trap are the Robin Hoods of the 4077. And while Henry is far more sympathetic and likable than either Hammond or Charlie, his fate is narratively sealed in his opening scene when he appears far more concerned with his shiny new toy than with the doctors’ dilemma. For the sake of ethics, he’s got to be taken down a peg.
(Seriously, Henry, why are you looking at your desk like that? While rubbing it and talking about solidity and strength?)
Other thoughts:
This episode was especially egregious with the use of “humorous” music cues and stingers: for instance, the “boing” sound when they open the back of the truck to find it empty. I assumed moments like that might be made slightly less awkward by a laugh track, but I checked and that’s a moment without the canned laughs!
I don’t think we ever hear again that weird “funky” version of Suicide is Painless that plays at the end as the helicopter flies off with the desk. Thank goodness.
Biggest laugh: Frank and Margaret’s exchange in Henry’s office in the dark while Hawkeye and Trapper hide behind the desk. Frank’s idea of seduction is truly something else. “Us, you, me... meeting like this... the way the flashlight catches your hair.” Cringe humor before cringe humor was a thing.
Parting thoughts: Overall, a solid follow up to the pilot. In fact, “To Market, to Market” is a classic caper that I was surprised came so early in the series, considering how that final gag of the helicopter flying off with Henry’s desk has stuck in my mind.
