You may have a cultural osmosis picture of Miami Vice in your mind. Mine was that it was a typical procedural cop show which was positively dripping with 80's signifiers. Neon pastels, fun in the sun from its Florida setting, big hair and bright and tacky fashion. All of this is basically present, but there's so much more under the surface to this show. In the first place, Miami Vice didn't just reflect the style at the time: it made the style of the time. After a slow start in its first season, Miami Vice became a cultural juggernaut in the mid-80's and that popularity reflected in real life. The neon, the white suits, the cool cars, all of it. This is part of the lasting legacy of Miami Vice, and this is the kind of thing I expected going into it. Then I actually watched the show, and the truth revealed itself to me. It set my early 2024 ablaze, and only now have I reconstructed myself enough and gotten enough procrastination to finally get off my ass and put some coherent thoughts about it together.
Right away, from episode 1, I was not hit with as much 80's as cultural osmosis would have me believe. Those bright pastels I was anticipating? They're present, but muted and dimmed just enough to give the proceedings this layer of grime coating the whole thing. Then you actually watch the show, and you realize that the grim and grimy mess isn't coming out. It's caked on to the entire proceedings, and not just aesthetically but thematically. As I put it on Letterboxd on Jan. 2nd, what I delved into was "A world of betrayal, loss, and just struggling to make a difference because otherwise, what was it all for?" Hold onto that question. It shall be our police-issued 9mm, signed and authorized for use by Lt. Chekov himself. For now, let's grapple with what this show actually is. Far from being a joyous buddy cop adventure every week with lots of exciting action and so much 80's it'll make your nose bleed. Miami Vice is a nightmarish procession of bittersweet tragedy and pyrrhic victory.
Seriously. Every week you don't get a fun adventure. You get series leads Crockett and Tubbs and their law enforcement buddies trying to stem the flood of drugs and violence and sex overrunning Miami circa 198X and make this tropical tempest a better place. Sometimes they get their man, and sometimes they don't... but just about every time something bad will happen in the course of their case. Someone who needs help might end up dead, some innocent bystander might have their life ruined, or maybe the justice system will fail to do what it's set out to do. Being a vice cop is a harrowing affair, and every week you can feel just a little more faith in humanity slip away at the sad end to another case, until our boys have to dust themselves off and dry their tears and go after the next scumbag of the week.
Wait a minute. Haven't we talked about something like this before? Yes, it's finally time to reveal the full scope of this resonance. I started watching Miami Vice at the beginning of the year, in January. At the same time that I was throwing on two episodes a day, I was battling my way through the hell that was Final Fantasy II. In some cases I would finish an episode of Miami Vice and then immediately jump into an hour or two session with that game. If you recall the massive Final Fantasy II writeup (and this writeup may very well rival its length when all is said and done), at one point my friend linked me some tweets from another person doing a playthrough, which I will now reiterate for you all:
At the time I could only hint at the full extent of this melancholy mix of mirroring, but now you have the whole picture. Miami Vice is like watching a Final Fantasy II plotline every week. Replace "dungeon" in that second tweet with "drug bust" and you have a clear idea of what the vibe of Miami Vice is. There is no joy in being a vice cop, other than clinging to the notion that you are doing the right thing and making the world a better place. Even over the first six episodes which loosely form what we'll call the "Calderone Arc", which is about going after just one drug kingpin, we are slammed over and over with misery. Crockett's estranged wife moving away and filing for divorce after a hitman targets him and his family. Tubbs' brother killed by Calderone. The Vice cop in charge, Lt. Rodriguez, getting killed by the aforementioned hit man. Tubbs sparking a relationship with a woman who turns out to be Calderone's daughter, who has no idea her father is a monster. It all ends with her finding out her dad's true colors and watching him get shot in front of her as her heart breaks over and over. Half the world is gone six episodes in. What else is there for these men to do but to keep fighting with what they have left?
How did something so bleak become both a ratings and aesthetic juggernaut which defined the look of the latter 80's? It isn't just the fast cars and fashions and colors, but another of Miami Vice's strengths is a cutting edge aesthetic choice. Paired with this melancholy misery, like a fine wine, is the fact that Miami Vice is a pioneer in music television. Keep in mind that this is the era of the music video, and MTV is its own aesthetic juggernaut defining the tastes of the 1980s. This sense of cutting edge cool is baked into the very DNA of Miami Vice: legend has it that the initial concept pitch was someone hastily scribbling the phrase "MTV COPS" onto a napkin. Regardless of how true that is, it is undeniable that Miami Vice uses the language of the music video to enhance dramatic television. I will tell you about it, but I also want to show it to you, and there's no better example than perhaps the iconic scene from the show's very first episode.
This is as peak as can be, folks. The haunting synth chords of In The Air Tonight pairing perfectly with the lonely shots of Crockett's car driving through the Miami streets by night, the solemn determination on Crockett and Tubb's faces, the way things are edited so the verse comes in as Crockett calls his estranged wife just to know if he had some joy in his life before they go to get their drug lord. How Phil Collins' echoing "I remember" matches spot on with Caroline affirming that it was real between her and Crockett, and then him driving off perfectly in time to the drums kicking in on the song. I am only scratching the surface of how this scene is immaculately paired with this song, and on some level you can't write it down and explain it away. It's just pure vibes, and I really hope you can watch the linked video because you need to let those vibes wash over you just to understand how the melancholy misery of being a vice cop pairs with this song to produce something which gets deep into your soul and stirs something within you.
And so, that's the baseline for which Miami Vice begins telling its story. Over time and through other episodes we get to meet more of the gang: Trudy and Gina, whose case work involves the red light district and the seedier aspects of sex work in Miami's underworld. Stan Switek and Larry Zito, more of a comic relief duo who work surveillance but nonetheless lighten the mood a little when it's desperately needed by offering their assistance. Last but not least is the new boss who replaces Rodriguez after he was killed in the Calderone arc, Lt. Martin Castillo. Played immaculately by Edward James Olmos, he offers stability and support to the team while also not shying away from being firm. Episodes like "Golden Triangle" or "Bushido" delve into Castillo and his backstory as well (the latter of which featuring Dean Stockwell in a supporting role, how's that for a synchronicity?).
I wanted to highlight the folks around Crockett and Tubbs because this show is not just their story. With over 100 episodes, everyone gets a crack at being the star. It isn't just about the themes, but how they affect the people. I could go on, but I did not structure this out like a capsule review blog where I talk about every episode. There's a big shift of sorts coming, but before we hit it I want to highlight some specific episodes from the first two seasons, just to give some praise to the certain way the show can tell these little tragic tales. This is not an exhaustive list of every episode I liked in those first two seasons, but just ones I want to touch on briefly. So, let's roll.
"No Exit" features a young Bruce Willis playing an absolute abusive monster and criminal, features another great Phil Collins needle drop (Phil later plays a sleazy con man himself in "Phil The Shill"), and has a true shock of a downer ending. "Evan", from late in season 1, is not only a harrowing tale about old bitterness and wanton life-risking behavior, but a shockingly progressive for 1985 take on homosexuality where Crockett regrets not being a better ally to an old coworker of his who came out of the closet. Between this and that Dirty Pair episode from the same year that had the girls say trans rights, there was something in the water in 1985. (For a real kick, check out the Dirty Pair two parter about the missing spaceship, think about what its missing pilots are named, and connect the dots.) "Junk Love" from the second season is like an echo of what would become Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me, with all the horrifying implications that sentence threatens. It has a bleak ending, but compared to that movie it's an optimistic one; imagine if Laura Palmer got to take out her killer, with all the agency and tragedy that implies. "Bought And Paid For" and "Little Miss Dangerous" also flirt with some of those same particular horrors, the former being a strong Gina-focused episode. Finally, so I haven't suggested nothing but bleak sex work episodes, "Definitely Miami" is an iconic example of tragic and bittersweet romance. It's tainted a little by one of its guest stars being Ted Nugent, but as you'll soon see the show can get a lot fucking worse with its guest stars.
Having spotlighted all of that, it's time to delve into what happened with this show, a bit of careful archaeology. A change is about to occur. It is not a sudden and stark one, it's more akin to someone slowly turning a knob and fiddling with contrasts. Several someones, in fact, but it does begin with one man coming onto the picture to work on the show. I want to stress that I am fully rejecting auteur theory in this writeup. Miami Vice is not the singular vision of one guy, but of multiple creatives. This person that enters the picture does not cackle and lay down decree after decree to change the show, but his arrival does mark the beginning of a sea change among the many who work on Miami Vice. Buckle up, dear reader, because the blue seas of Miami harbor are about to get choppy.
Enter... Dick Wolf.
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