Have you seen?: Magnum, P.I.?

Honestly, it’s almost impossible for me to describe my love for Magnum, P.I. using mere words. And even then, the word ‘love’ does not really do justice to my emotions. A closer descriptor would be ‘all-consuming admiration’, but even that falls short. (This overwhelming enthusiasm found recent expression in my blasphemous attempt to grow a moustache on a par with Tom Selleck’s – an attempt which, I should add, was an embarrassing and entirely predictable failure on my part.)

So, just why is it that I am worryingly obsessed with this campy detective show from the ‘80s, the production of which is risible by today’s standards? The answer is ridiculously obvious, and you hardly need to own a Ferrari and a moustache to work it out – Magnum, P.I. is one of the greatest television series ever made.

Spanning eight years of television history, Magnum, P.I. chronicles the adventures of the incredibly cool Thomas Magnum (Selleck) in his career as a private investigator based on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. Magnum’s main occupancy is the guest house of The Robin’s Nest – the Hawaiian residence of the seldom-seen but widely praised and disgustingly-rich novelist, Robin Masters. In return for his use of the facilities, Magnum acts as a kind of security chief, although he is hardly ever seen doing any work to maintain the grounds. That task falls instead to the irascible Higgins, a former British Army officer and the estates’ Major-domo, who loves telling old war stories, firing miniature cannons, and building model spitfires. He also sees it as his duty to playfully harass Magnum at every turn.

Higgins and “the lads” – twin Dobermans named Zeus and Apollo – are forever engaged in a domestic power struggle with Magnum to curtail his use of the estates’ facilities, notably the trademark red Ferrari and tidal pool. Magnum also often recruits his best friends and comrades from the war in Vietnam, Rick, who manages a private members’ club on the island, and T.C., a helicopter pilot who organises sightseeing trips for tourists, to help him in his adventures – both of whom seem to be able to drop whatever they are doing at a moment’s notice to aid Magnum in whatever high-risk intrigue he has embarked upon, usually involving a beautiful woman. So far, so ‘80s. What, then, sets Magnum, P.I. apart from its contemporaries and makes it one of the greatest productions to grace the medium of television?

For one thing, it boldly resisted categorisation. What could have so easily descended into a formulaic detective show instead broke out of the confines of its inceptive premise and ran the gamut of emotional projection and storytelling genres. Magnum’s casework could take any form whatsoever – he could have an engagement to help an elderly Jewish couple evade paramilitary neo-Nazis one week, and commence an investigation to find a kidnapped prize-winning show-dog the next. The variation of storytelling devices means that there is no episodic formula – although most episodes do usually begin with a voiceover from Magnum himself, helpfully relating to the viewer the seemingly mundane incidents which lead to his involvement in whatever mad-cap escapade he is currently embroiled in. And just when we assumed the series had grown too dark and sombre for its own good, a hilariously trite remark from Higgins and a comically-timed raise of Magnum’s eyebrows would skilfully return us to earth.

Narrative dynamism aside, the series was also notable in its moments of breaking the ‘fourth wall’ between characters and viewers – a brief look of comic exasperation from Magnum directed at the camera made us believe that we were a party to the joke, and so we became invested in the character’s welfare; a directorial move which, it should be noted, would never be approved of in today’s culture of heavy-handed imaginative removal. It was also celebrated that the series was the first major production in film and television to portray veterans of the Vietnam War in a positive light; Magnum and his friends had the occasional flashback to a horrific war which may have left its mark, but had failed to destroy their humanity and only enhanced their desire to live life to the full. It’s enough to make you want to pull on a pair of snug-fitting short-shorts, grow a moustache and test-drive a Ferrari.

The series’ soaring theme (composed by the legendary Mike Post) can be listened to here:

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