Friday December 5, 1997
604
A man falls between the cars of a subway train in front of horrified witnesses. Was he pushed? While the man is still alive, the prognosis is he will be dead the moment they extract from the position he currently occupies: pinned between the train and platform. Homicide is called in light of this condition and the fact he may have been pushed. Pembleton questions the victim, and Bayliss questions the witnesses, especially a strange one named Larry Biedron. The victim has no relatives in the Baltimore area. He does have a girlfriend who is supposed to be jogging in the area; Lewis and Falsone try to find her to bring her to the scene.
A landmark moment in television hide show
Perhaps because the producers of Homicide thought that they were being viewed by the executives at NBC as a ‘dead letter’, they would feature in season 6 a sizable number of stories that highlight living people who had been ‘murdered’--- just not cold yet. And not in the same way Sean Garrabrek in ‘A Doll’s Eyes’ was either--- these people were still fighting and alive. Many of these episodes would be moving, but few would be as powerful as the first one written but was ultimately shown out of order --- ‘The Subway’. Indeed, this show is not only one of the most compelling of the season, but one of the best episodes in series history.
In the previous five seasons, it seemed that Homicide had looked at grief and shock of murder from every angle imaginable. Turns out they left one out--- the victim. John Lange leaves for his job one Friday morning, kisses his girlfriend goodbye, enters the subway, walks down the platform--- and falls in front of an oncoming train. He gets pinned between the train and the platform. The pressure of the subway is the only thing keeping his insides from falling out. The instant the pressure is eased, he will die. Without it, he’ll live maybe an hour. Everyone--- the paramedics, the police, and Detective Frank Pembleton--- knows that he’s going to die.
So does John Lange. He is still conscious, and because his spinal cord has been severed, he doesn’t feel any pain. It therefore comes as a huge shock when Pembleton tries to talk to him about getting his girlfriend down to the subway to say goodbye. We watch him as he realizes what is going to happen, and it is stunning. This is a huge shock, not only for the viewer but for Frank. Like all detectives, he sees the dead, not the death. He may speak for the dead, but he doesn’t speak with the dead. And that’s what Frank does for an hour--- he asks him about next of kin, getting his account of what happened, and finally contemplating the fate of a man who is dying because he chose to ride the subway into work instead of driving in like he does every other day.
It is not easy to watch a man die. Our relief from this agony comes from the comparatively less grim efforts to find out why Lange fell and trying to reach next of kin. Bayliss spends the hour learning about the man who pushed him is a lunatic who had spent time in an institution for pushing another man in front of a train. Falsone and Lewis get called in on what is ultimately a futile search for Lange’s girlfriend who is jogging by the river and every few minutes we get some release as the detectives make the effort. The only relief that Lange gets is the ‘one-in-a-million’ chance from the paramedic that he will somehow survive the removal.
But there are no miracles---or relief. This is Homicide. Lange’s death is random and arbitrary. Falsone and Meldrick never locate his girlfriend, so he never gets to say goodbye. Lange succumbs on the platform. For everyone else--- even the rattled Frank Pembleton--- life must go on. The train starts running. And Lange’s girlfriend jogs by just in time to see the firemen and the paramedics pull away from the station---- leaving with only a cursory look. It is the ultimate ironic twist.
To merely summarize this episode robs it of its power. It is essentially a static scene, yet the emotion and anguish that we see is absolutely unforgettable. This may be Andre Braugher’s finest hour, and considering his body of work, that’s saying a lot. For once, his role is not that of grand inquisitor, but that of caregiver and confessor. He will be the last person that John Lange will ever talk to, and he must keep the victim calm, relate to this man, while keeping his own emotions in check. It is an extraordinary work. Braugher would win his only Emmy this season, and while I don’t know if this was the episode that he submitted for consideration, its hard to imagine a better example of his range and ability.
Just as brilliant is the work of Vincent D’Onofrio as John Lange. The range and power of his performance is astonishing--- he shows more human emotion in this one hour than he has ever done in five-plus years as the lead on Law & Order: Criminal Intent. His work is riveting and absolutely unforgettable. Watching a ‘dead man’ go through the five stages of grief is not something that is easily forgotten and D’Onofrio pulls it out without a hint of overacting. This is the work of an astonishing performer.
‘The Subway’ may be the most famous episode of a remarkable series. The praise from critics bordered on the extraordinary. It received two Emmy nominations--- Best Guest Actor for D’Onofrio and Best Teleplay, plus probably Braugher’s. It would win an unprecedented third Peabody award for the series and an Edgar nomination for best teleplay. It would later be featured on a PBS episode of ‘Frontline’. But its force and performance are among the greatest of any episode of television that I’ve ever seen. Never has it been more clear that a murder means that a man is dead. For those reasons I consider ‘The Subway’ one of the best episodes of television--- ever. And even then, it’s only one of five episodes of the series that I consider the highlights of the series. That’s how high the writers and actors of Homicide set the bar.
My score: 10
Rank by Fans: 5th
DennisKytasaari
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