Television Review: Partners and Other Strangers (Homicide: Life on the Street, S5X21, 1997)

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(source:imdb.com)

Partners and Other Strangers (S05E21)

Airdate: 9 May 1997

Written by: Paul Attanasio, Anya Epstein & Julie Martin
Directed by: Leslie Libman & Larry Williams

Running Time: 45 minutes

As Homicide: Life on the Street edged closer to its eventual conclusion, the series’ once-unwavering commitment to gritty, unvarnished realism began to fray under the weight of network pressures. By Season 5, the show’s producers increasingly prioritized sensationalist storytelling and glossy casting decisions over the nuanced, character-driven narratives that had defined its earlier seasons. Nowhere is this shift more evident than in the two-part Season 5 finale, beginning with “Partners and Other Strangers,” a symbolic crossroads that exposed the tension between the show’s auteurist roots and its commercial recalibration. This episode, while retaining traces of the series’ signature moral complexity, leans heavily on soap-operatic twists and nostalgic callbacks, marking a departure from the documentary-style authenticity that once set Homicide apart.

The plot opens with Detective Frank Pembleton (Andre Braugher) investigating what appears to be a routine suicide—a man found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The revelation that the victim is Beau Felton (Daniel Baldwin), a disgraced former member of the Homicide Unit, sends shockwaves through the precinct. Felton’s downfall—a spiral into alcoholism and resignation from the force—resonates deeply with his former colleagues, particularly Detective Steve Crosetti’s surviving partner, Meldrick Lewis (Clark Johnson), who had already grappled with his colleague’s suicide years earlier, and Sergeant Kay Howard (Melissa Leo), whose bond with Felton was forged in the crucible of shared trauma. The discovery that Felton has been allegedly involved a car-theft ring adds insult to injury. Yet the narrative takes a sharp turn when Dr. Cox (Peter Gerety) uncovers evidence of murder, exposing Felton’s covert role as an informant in an Internal Affairs investigation into police corruption. This twist, while dramatically explosive, feels oddly contrived—a narrative device more suited to daytime drama than the show’s traditionally grounded procedural format.

The episode’s secondary subplots further illustrate the series’ evolving identity. The reverberations of Luther Mahoney’s death—memorialized by hundreds of mourners, to the fury of Detective Mike Kellerman (Reed Diamond)—highlight the show’s enduring ability to interrogate systemic injustice. Meanwhile, Giardello’s clashes with Captain Gaffney over his role in ousting the corrupt Deputy Commissioner Harris underscore the political minefield of police bureaucracy. For Bayliss, the episode delves into his fraught history with his abusive, now-demented Uncle George, a subplot that deepens his character’s emotional landscape but risks melodrama in its depiction of familial duty. These threads, while competently woven into the main narrative, often feel like narrative scaffolding, prioritising continuity over the raw, vérité energy of earlier seasons.

A particularly jarring element is the handling of Felton’s absence. Baldwin’s real-life struggles with addiction had apparently rendered him unavailable for a guest appearance, forcing the writers to resort to extensive flashbacks from earlier seasons. The decision to depict Felton’s suicide via an offscreen shotgun blast into the face—a literal and metaphorical erasure—lends the storyline a disjointed, retrospective quality. This reliance on archival footage, while pragmatic, transforms “Partners and Other Strangers” into a de facto clip show, diluting the urgency of its present-tense drama. The script’s attempt to retroactively recast Felton as a tragic hero—sacrificed for exposing corruption—reads less as a profound character revelation and more as a contrived plot twist designed to shock rather than illuminate.

The introduction of future regular characters Detective Paul Falsone (Jon Seda) and Detective Stuart Gharty (Peter Gerety) further underscores the show’s tonal recalibration. Falsone, with his chiseled good looks and swaggering charm, embodies the network’s apparent pivot toward youth-obsessed casting—a stark contrast to the show’s earlier preference for character actors. His immediate entanglement in Felton’s case feels less organic than opportunistic, positioning him as a fresh face for viewers who may have tuned out the show’s more austere early seasons. Gharty’s elevation from a controversial patrolman to a key player in Internal Affairs stretches credulity, yet his dry wit and bureaucratic savvy inject a sardonic edge into the ensemble. Still, both characters feel like concessions to a broader rebranding effort, their introductions prioritizing long-term narrative arcs over the intimate, case-by-case storytelling that once defined Homicide.

Despite these missteps, the episode retains flickers of the series’ former brilliance. The performances, particularly Braugher’s tightly coiled anguish. The show’s technical craftsmanship—its stark lighting, handheld camerawork, and diegetic soundscapes—remains peerless, even as the script leans on contrivances. Yet the tonal whiplash of Felton’s posthumous redemption and the contrived “gotcha” moments of the corruption plotline underscore the growing influence of network executives demanding higher stakes and serialized intrigue.

In the end, Partners and Other Strangers epitomises the contradictions of Homicide’s twilight years. It is an episode torn between honoring its legacy and chasing the ephemeral allure of mainstream appeal. While its exploration of loyalty, betrayal, and institutional rot remains compelling, the reliance on sensational reveals and nostalgia-baiting callbacks dilutes the show’s once-unshakable integrity. For longtime viewers, it serves as a bittersweet elegy for a show that once redefined the police procedural—yet its concessions to commercialism render it a pale shadow of its former self. As a bridge between eras, it is a flawed but fascinating artifact, revealing the cost of compromise in the unforgiving terrain of network television.

RATING: 5/10 (++)

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