![]() Everyone lands running at full shtick: Furillo, the beleaguered precinct commander, compassionate, but with credible limits to his patience (Daniel J. No one is new to the precinct, Hill Street, except the viewer. Handheld camera, Action News editing, and overlapping mutters on the soundtrack during the morning briefing that opens the show-manneristic bad signs for the jaundiced viewer, though they did seem to make for an appropriate grab-shot naturalism here. Thirteen series regulars identified up front, most of them unfamiliar and most of them frozen in slantwise TV grin. ![]() Who could say whether, if the numbers failed to materialize, Silverman wouldn’t replace it with a jiggle epic, or his successors ashcan it in a combined spirit of slate-cleaning and revenge? It was getting a modified miniseries sendoff as part of NBC president Fred Silverman’s last desperate bid to turn around his network’s ever-worsening ratings drift and save his job. ![]() But he knew I liked Lou Grant, and this show “from the producers of Lou Grant” (the hypesters’ phrase) was, on the basis of preview, similarly successful in “being funny when it wants to be funny, and dramatic when it wants to be dramatic” (his phrase), and maybe I should take a look. If my editor hadn’t called my attention to it, the premiere episode of Hill Street Blues would very probably have come and gone without my notice.
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