In an earlier review of Life on Mars, I described the show as a Law And Order-style procedural with Mad Men retro cache.  The fifth episode, ”Things To Do In New York When You Think You’re Dead,” manages to channel both the old Bill Cosby vehicle I Spy and the ne plus ultra of network TV cheese, Touched By An Angel.

That ain’t an easy feat.

Sam Tyler, our lost-in-time protagonist, and the hard boiled detectives of the 125 arrive on the scene of an apparently racially motivated murder.  Angel, a Puerto Rican maintenance man, had been spotted by several witnesses throwing the victim, a cute little African-American girl that Sam had encountered when he happened upon his mother in the fourth (and best) episode, from a roof. Boss detective Gene Hunt (Harvey Keitel) really hates child killers, so he gives his detectives a free hand to hunt down and kill the Puerto Rican. Plus some Black Panther-esque thugs mount their own hunt for Angel, and a race to find the hapless Angel ensues.

Here’s where the writers pour on the Touched By An Angel syrup:

First, Sam entreats Gene to do the right thing and bring Angel in for due process. Brutal, hard-boiled Gene collegially brushes off Sam’s concerns and goes ahead with his manhunt, with no negative consequences for Sam.

Then, Sam teams up with Clams, a likable but tough black detective in the mold of Bill Cosby.  Sam instantly recognizes Clams as his 21st century mentor.  When Sam affects a familiar, “great to see ya” manner, Clams is wary of the seemingly delusional Sam for about two or three seconds of screen time, then becomes his best friend for the remainder of the episode.

(Indeed, most everyone who encounters Sam in this episode seems to quietly accept his insistence that he is lost in time, and just goes along with his delusions, without ostracizing him or taking away his badge or gun.)

Most of the remaining episode proceeds like a Saturday Night Live spoof of I Spy or a Lethal Weapon-ish black cop/white cop buddy movie, complete with overwrought smart-alecky banter and a contrived captivity scene. Then there’s the obligatory moment of awkward white appropriation of black pop culture: Sam starts rapping a Vanilla Ice song–a white guy badly imitating a white guy who badly imitates hip-hop, a style of music that hadn’t yet been invented in 1973. Did I mention that Whoopi Goldberg showed up on this episode to help facilitate the schlockiness?

The episode’s action ends with a steaming hot slice of sticky sweet Touched By An Angel cheesy cheesecake, smothered under several gallons of Touched By An Angel super-concentrated ultra-sweet syrup, and washed down with a tall, frothing glass of extra-sweetened, double-shot Touched By An Angel-flavored Italian soda.  Angel’s story of love and butterfly chasing wins over the hard-as-nails Gene, who stages Angel’s fake death so as to avert all-out race war.  Everybody wins, and after Gene delivers a surprise gut punch to Sam, everybody ends up friends, just like at the beginning of the episode.

An epilogue provides the only redeeming moment of this abominable Life on Mars installment.  Sam ends up wandering into the funeral for the 21st century Clams.  He hears his girlfriend, Maya (Lisa Bonet), say that it is too bad Sam could not be conscious to know that Clams had died.  This final scene advances the mystery of Sam’s dislocation in time, suggesting that Sam exists in both the 21st century and 1973, or at least momentarily straddles the two time periods.  Is Sam in an altered state of consciousness? Dislocated between timestreams? In a coma?

Back to my negative tear:  Harvey Keitel looked as ill-coifed and costumed for 1973 as ever.  I’m starting to think that Sam doesn’t look era-appropriate, either, but at least he has an excuse because he’s dislocated in time.  I admit, I’m a stickler for those period details, and have been for as long as I can remember. When I saw Patton for the first time before I was 10, I condemned the movie because both the Americans and the Germans were driving the same Spanish M47 tanks, which everybody knows were manufactured years after WWII and were, uh, Spanish.  Later, I was distracted by a 90s era railroad car that passed the grassy knoll in JFK–Oliver Stone had so many things wrong in that movie. But bad TV hair has been bugging me just as long as Rommel’s and Patton’s bogus tanks.  Potsy on friggin’ Happy Days had longer hair than the Beatles, which would have been scandalous in 1950s Milwaukee.  That just screamed fake, fake, fake to my pre-teen sensibilities back then, and it still does now that I’m in embittered middle age.

The music in this episode was a disappointment in comparison to past episodes.  With its emphasis on the black power movement and black street culture, I was expecting to hear a little psychedelic funk, maybe some George Clinton or Sly and the Family Stone. But alas, we got some stock loops of 70s soul-like mood music–emblematic of this disappointing Life on Mars episode.

Unfortunately, it was TV as usual. I sure hope next week is better.

I give this episode one and a half Harvey Keitel fists of fury, just cuz I’m in a good mood.