"I've played probably 800 cops in my acting career," he told a transfixed Stewart. "I've had like 801 jobs, and 800 of them were cops."
Yeah, right. And just because Anne Hathaway can look sickly and hit a high note, she should win an Oscar for Les Miserables. (Oh, wait. That did happen.) What's more, Wahlberg maintained, his respect for the men and women who serve and protect the hometown he loves so much defined exactly the type of show he needed to make.
"We can't do it on one of these rowdy networks with billy clubs smashing over people's heads," he said. "It's Boston. I have to represent my city the right way."
Oh, how I wanted to dislike this series so wicked hard. One, it's yet another reality series, and someday soon we will be force-fed one too many of them and all our brains will implode. Between those Dish commercials for "The Hopper," the foulmouthed wacky impressions by SVP & Russillo on ESPN and every other cop movie made these days, Boston and its accent have become the chic media premise of the moment. And, quite honestly, it'd be a nice change to see Wahlberg fail at something: he's had the right stuff seemingly ever since he emerged from puberty, attaining extraordinary success at almost everything except finding a really good tailor.
Wanted to. Couldn't. Boston's Finest is what reality TV was supposed to be all along. Insightful. Absorbing. Quietly fascinating. Even a little educational, without smashing us over the head with a billy club. From the network that gives us the best scripted police saga on television, Southland, this is what we should have every reason to expect: Reality done the TNT way. Cops with a Harvard education.
|The Wicked Finest. Photo courtesy: TNT|
However, as Wahlberg and his fellow producers were getting the mayor, police commissioner and chief of police to sign off on the concept, he told Stewart, "they all said the same thing: It's up to the officers. If they don't feel safe with you in the car, you're getting out of the car, you take your camera and you go home."
Obviously, it was safety first. I looked hard for any sign of uneasiness, insincerity or acting on the part of the officers. Nada. To their credit, these cops accepted the cameras without playing to them. And, in a distinctive difference from most police-focused reality shows, Boston's Finest will, in time, touch upon every segment of the Boston Police Department – street patrol officers, the detective squad, special task forces, the SWAT team, the Fugitive Unit and the city's highly decorated, danger-filled Gang Unit. Layered alongside that, the show impresses in the way it integrates the personal storylines of its principal players with their main focus of snatching bad guys off the street.
For example, in the opening episode I think you will very quickly grow to like Jennifer Penton. A small, compact steel coil of a woman, Penton served her country in Afghanistan before joining the force and now patrols the Hyde Park district with her partner and "best friend," Pat Rogers. They're close enough to correct each other's English on camera without triggering dirty looks.
"This is probably one of the badder areas we're going into," Rogers announces.
"Worst," counters Penton. "I don't think 'badder' is a word."
"What if I say, 'I'm the baddest?'"
"You can be the baddest," says Penton. "But not badder."
By the time the hour is over you will meet her mother, her nephew and her twin sister Melissa, whose lousy life decisions and descent into drug abuse have left her unrecognizable as Penton's sibling. Melissa's existence drives her passion to take drugs off the streets and eventually get into the narcotics unit.
You also see Penton sweating hard in the boxing ring, training to overcome any assumptions criminals – or peers – may make based on her gender and stature. "I'm 5-foot-3, a hundred-and-something pounds," she explains. "With that comes a fear that I'm going to be faced with a 6-foot-2, 250-pound muscular guy who doesn't want to go to jail that day. I have to stay on top of my game. It could save my life. It could save my partner's life."
By the second episode, she's inviting Rogers to her apartment for an after-shift dinner. Ooh, is something more than a patrol partnership developing here? Well, that's why it's a series, silly. Tune in next week.
You'll become acquainted with the Gang Unit, spending a rare night off to meet at a member's house for dinner and care for their combined passel of kids so their wives and girlfriends can enjoy a "Ladies' Night Out." And the wily, devoted Fugitive Unit officer Greg Dankers, husband to a fellow Boston cop and father to twin 4-year-old boys, who sets a trap to catch a violent drug dealer nicknamed (I love this), "DropRock." You'll meet a dozen more before the season's said and done.
Every episode shrewdly ends with a surge of action, a little adrenalin rush to make you consider coming back again for more satisfying visual chowdah. The show's theme song, performed by the Irish punk-rock band Dropkick Murphys, ends with the line, "the roof is on fire and it's ready to blow." That may be an apt description of Boston's Finest as well. It's wicked good.
On a scale of 1-10 remotes, I give Boston's Finest an 8.