When the history of of the US production of Life On Mars is written, I fully expect a tale of visionary writers, directors, and actors in pitched battle against old-guard network execs and ad sales sycophants who “know” what works on TV because they’ve been running shows since M*A*S*H and Hill Street Blues. Or it will turn out that there was leftover material from the earlier, abortive Life On Mars helmed by overrated TV dramameister David E. Kelley that had to be worked into the re-tooled Life On Mars that is currently airing for reasons of contractual obligation. 

Actually, I’m desperately thinking of possible explanations for the see-sawing quality of Life On Mars episodes.  Or, to put it in the vernacular of my Rust Belt youth:  Why are the Life on Mars people pulling my chain?

Last week’s Life on Mars left a bad taste in my mouth, with its reliance on tired old TV/movie formulas and its static set up.

“Tuesday’s Dead” plunges the viewer into the murky depths of Sam Tyler’s time-dislocation angst by way of a hostage standoff at a mental hospital. The setting is a disturbing reminder of the primitiveness and brutality of 60s- and 70s-era mental health care; there is graphic discussion and imagery of lobotomies, a once-common treatment for psychotic or incorrigible psychiatric patients.  Coming face to face with actual madness causes Sam to question his own grasp on reality.

Sam has his clearest contact or channel to his (evidently) comatose 2008 self as the episode unfolds.  He sees himself and his loved ones on television several times; Sam, his 2008 mother, and 2008 girlfriend, Maya, appear on a 70s General Hospital-style soap opera.  Maya is even coifed with an era-appropriate beachball-sized Afro.

(Note to the Life On Mars makeup and wardrobe crew–can you work some of this period magic on Mr. Keitel, perhaps? [That concludes this week's obligatory dig on Keitel's anachronistic appearance])

Sam learns from his television hallucinations that his 2008 comatose self is soon to be unplugged from life support.  When Sam realizes that his 1973 hostage deadline coincides with his 2008 date with death, his time dislocation problem is thrust to the center of the episode’s action.  His 2008 life becomes linked to his 1973 life, with potentially fatal consequences for his 125 detective squad colleagues.

This episode also demonstrates the tension and distrust that Sam’s time dislocation engenders among his co-workers.  In past episodes, boss detective Gene Hunt and the other detectives treated Sam as merely quirky, which rang a little wrong to me, because this bunch of hard-boiled cops would view Sam’s “I’m from the future” schtick and his sensitive 21st ways as weakness, or worse.  But in ”Tuesday’s Dead,” even the sympathetic and open-minded Annie becomes suspicious of Sam and his claims. He is truly isolated, in a realistically pathetic way–the episode engaged me emotionally as no other had.

One disappointment in this episode was the music.  I think there was only one 1973-era pop song and a lot of stock scoring.  On the upside: no Simon and Garfunkel.

We’re six episodes into Life On Mars‘ first season.  So what does Life On Mars want to be?

In a recent Television Zombies podcast, TVZ’s Boston bureau chief Jonah noted that quirky central characters are the new trend in cop shows.  Is Life On Mars just a procedural with a little existential twist? 

Or is Life On Mars a serial mystery/thriller in the vein of Lost or X-Files?  Life On Mars is a little weak on the engaging mystery, but there is potential for new developments.  Television appears to be Sam’s favored “channel” for receiving clues from 2008–these segments have been done well. The coma narrative seems to have obtained some permanence, but that danged robot has my attention. What’s that about?

Maybe Life on Mars is attempting social commentary via period drama, a la Mad Men.  Each episode has succeeded in painting a picture about the 70s: police brutality, the hippie scene, homophobia, Black Power, primitive mental health care, and women’s rights are just some of the issues that have been visited effectively (more or less) by this show.

The last couple of episodes of Life On Mars seem almost to suggest that one creative objective is homage to “classic” ’70s detective shows.  The detectives wear 70s fashion and drive muscle cars.  More than once, I’ve found myself thinking, “That looks like something from Baretta or Starsky and Hutch. Or maybe Police Woman.” 

No matter what Life On Mars wants to be, I hope that coming episodes are as cleverly crafted as ”Tuesday’s Dead.”