As a rule, I reckon Australian police and crime dramas have a way to go to fully mature (making an exception for East West 101 of course).
Maybe it’s just me. But we seem to struggle to produce anything with the kind of grit and reality of Law and Order — and its various franchises — even as we shy away from the ridiculous-but-uber-cool stylishness of something like Life.
So, last week, when I caught the promo for the imminent season return of Rush, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Rush always strikes me as overwrought.
Every episode I’ve seen features fairly pedestrian, run-of-the-mill urban Aussie crimes hyped up beyond all recognition.
My impression is that it’d be fairly typical to see something like a bag snatcher at Docklands being chased down by officers on foot — set to a dramatic, tension-filled soundtrack more appropriate if the fate of the entire world hung in the balance.
But it doesn’t.
So it’s just stupid.
And yet as full of scorn as I am for television like this, I have to admit that I often fall victim to the Rush Effect myself. I have a pronounced tendency to inflate everything that happens in my personal life to cosmic proportions.
So my weekly peak-hour commute across Melbourne (against the flow of traffic no less) becomes a titanic struggle, where everyone’s out to get me.
Or I get so wrapped up in my frustration with myself that I’m still pretty crap at soccer — even after a lifetime of playing it — that I often give in to the temptation to whinge and blame others (since it can’t possibly be my fault I’m not fitter than I am).
Sure, Paul tells us Christians are in a pitched battle against the devil and the spiritual forces of darkness in the heavenly places.
But come on. A bit of proportion wouldn’t go astray, would it?
I think I need to go and re-read Alexander Pope’s melodramatic mock-epic poem, The Rape of the Lock, for a dose of reality…