For reasons too complex to easily unpack, the crack staff here at Mid Century Cinema have been catching up with re-runs of Kojak, the mid-70s TV policier. It has been an eye opening experience. There were easily a dozen decent cop shows in the late sixties and early seventies—but in retrospect, it is clear that Kojak towers above them all. Who knew? In fact, if anything, the show is better now than it was then (and, again, it was already pretty darn good).
Why is that you ask? Good question. The answer: because of two attributes, not salient then, but absolutely thrilling now. First, it is a time capsule of seventies New York City, with generous helpings of Just Spectacular location shooting)—including some eye catching night for night work. (If admittedly supplemented by el-lay studio work, increasingly and not coincidentally as the show limped through its fifth and final season.) Some of this footage is borderline priceless—face it, man, the city was just way more visually interesting then (ya know, before Disney bought Times Square and every cool neighborhood in town up and got gentrified). Second are the guest players: then, taken for granted or not-yet-known; today, little short of head turning. (As I type this, in the background Charles from MASH, well-playing against type as a gangster, just rubbed out Bernie Kopell.) Here’s a modest sample: Scatman Crothers, Richard Jordan, Nicolas Colosanto, Sally Kirkland, Jackie Cooper, Harris Yulin, John Ritter, Steven Keats, Dabney Coleman, Abe Vigoda, Daniel J. Travanti, Martin Balsam, Paul Anka, Leslie Nielson, Norman Lloyd, Robert Loggia, Ruth Gordon, Jerry Orbach, F. Murray Abraham, Sylvester Stallone, Eileen Brennan, Vincent Gardenia, Verna Bloom, Richard Gere, Geraldine Page, Mary Beth Hurt, Christopher Walken, Gloria Grahame, Murray Hamilton, Christina Raines, Shelly Winters, John Randolph, Dorothy Tristan. Put another way: one episode featured Lynn Redgrave, Walter McGuinn, Hurd Hatfield, Morgan Fairchild, Dan Hedaya, Dominick Chianese and Irene Cara.
None of this would matter (well, both would still probably matter to us) if the show was not so often of exceptional quality. Watching these re-runs, the old-timer on our staff would recall – vividly – many of the best moments from when he first saw an episode some fifty years ago. Kojak worked (and works) largely due to the charisma of its star player, Telly Savalas, and irresistibility of the titular character he played. Well supported by Captain McNeil and a crew of loyal detectives, most notably Crocker and Stavros (NB we propose a new drinking game involving the invocation of Crocka!), the show is called Kojak for good reason.
Lieutenant Kojak is a cop, and a tough one, and he’s not reluctant to lean on a suspect, or even a witness, or bend the rules—or even, when it seems necessary, break them. But he’s also a man of unquestionable integrity, and one who shows (more through his actions than his words) a sympathy for those scraping by at the margins of society—and a barely veiled contempt for those that abuse their power, often putting his career on the line to confront them.
Especially for the 1970s, both the show and the character, are surprisingly progressive on a variety of would-be controversial issues, including sex work and sexual differences. Ultimately, this straight as an arrow, third generation cop who venerates his ties to the ways of the old country (Greece), is a liberal humanist. I’m not just saying that. Kojak derives from a TV movie, The Marcus-Nelson Murders (1973), directed by Jesseph Sargent, co-written by series creator Abby Mann, and featuring Savalas along with Jose Ferrer and legendary New Hollywood character actors Allen Garfield and Ned Beatty. That New York production (ooooh), was in turn loosely based on (“suggested by”) the book Justice in the Back Room, written by Big Apple journalist Selwyn Rabb. That book detailed Rabb’s investigation into the notorious “Career Girl” murders on New York’s Upper East Side, in which police misconduct, including a coerced confession, led to the wrongful conviction and incarceration (and subsequent exoneration) of a nineteen year old black man. (Sidebar: that case was influential in the Supreme Court’s “Miranda” ruling designed to protect the accused—enjoy those rights while you still can.) Kojak’s character in Marcus-Nelson was inspired by Rabb.
Anyway, if you’re still with me, the point is, Kojak was both a tough cop and a good guy. And here are a dozen of our favorite episodes:
Siege of Terror (S1/E1) A very young, and very unknown Harvey Keitel (this episode aired two weeks before Mean Streets debuted at the New York Film Festival) orchestrates an armored car robbery. Things go wrong. Hostages are taken. Kojak walks in, negotiates, and ultimately bluffs his way out, carrying a mortally wounded cop over his shoulder. Gripping stuff.
The Chinatown Murders, Part 1 (S2/E1) A mob turf war is complicated by a kidnapping, which is further complicated by the fact that those handed the ransom note might be just fine leaving well enough alone. With Michael Constantine, and the always irresistible Sheree North (Huge H/T to the wardrobe department in that regard, BTW).
Queen of the Gypsies (S2/E18) An especially clever series of bank robberies; an accomplice with her own agenda. Rarely is Kojak outsmarted—but he is here; like Theo, we didn’t see that coming.
Night of the Pieresis (S2/E19) One of the most clever criminal schemes ever seen on TV (and I’ve seen a lot of them), and it involves . . . stamp collecting. Lots of nifty moving parts here, and I double dare you to try to guess the brilliant twist at the end.
Elegy in an Asphalt Graveyard (S2/E20) Three great episodes in a row make the case for season two as peak Kojak. The apparent suicide of a prostitute is unacceptable to our hero, who suspects murder, possibly because he helped the woman in question scrape herself off the streets (and off heroin) five years earlier. Along the way Theo risks his badge taking on the brass and some well-connected businessmen. Smart finish, moving coda; maybe our favorite episode.
No Immunity For Murder (S3/E10) The feds are interfering with Kojak’s murder investigation. Why? Because the killer (Robert Alda) is someone they’re looking to protect. More or less. Good clue with the Social Security cards, with a nice turn by Ron Rifkin, and another strong ending, in which Kojak, as often, short of setting things right has to settle for a measure of poetic justice.
Both Sides of the Law (S3/E23) This one is almost as clever as the one with the stamps. In this case the loot is five rare Rembrandt sketches. As with the best of them, it is suspenseful throughout, and boasts an especially nifty denouement.
A Need to Know (S4/E5) Hector Elizando in a gusty performance as a child molester (sounds yucky but it’s done with real restraint). No doubt he’s the guy, but he also has diplomatic immunity—another opportunity for Kojak to ignore the brass in pursuit of what’s right.
Black Thorn (S4/E12) Rosey Grier returns as the irresistible bounty hunter Salathiel Harms (first seen in S3/E18, Bad Dude), who often works at cross purposes with Kojak, but they share a mutual admiration. We give the edge to this one, with Danny Aiello and Swoozie Kutrz.
Kojak’s Days (S4/E19-S4/E20) Kojak’s days are full, and there’s a ton going on here, with multiple plot lines intersecting—no wonder they needed two parts. It starts with a body found in the trunk of a Rolls Royce, and gets a little complicated from there. With Kitty Winn, Michael Tolan, Maud Adams, and William Hurt in his first credited role (um, don’t get too attached).
Tears For all who Knew Her (S5E/8) Kojak’s ex-girlfriend may or may not be a murderer. So the lieutenant recuses himself, sort of, because, to quote Lou Reed, “everybody knows/she’s a femme fatale.” A decent clue with the light switch doesn’t prove the case—but it ends all doubt. With peak seventies Jennifer Warren, and the great Sam Jaffe.
Chain of Custody (S5/E15) Going out with classic stuff – A District Attorney botches a case, and Kojak thinks he was beyond incompetent, or did it on purpose. Thoughts he shares loudly and in public. He’s told to apologize. That doesn’t go well, so he gets suspended. Off official duty, Kojak still manages to bring down the DA—and for good measure (and surprise, sorry, we don’t do spoiler alerts, are you new here?) a judge along the way. But it’s still very seventies out there—there’s a nice kicker at the end about some powerful string-pullers who get away with it.