“If the rules are against you, I’ll change them.

If the odds are against you, I’ll even them.”

No doubt some of you are aware that a new take on the show has just dropped, starring Queen Latifah in the lead role. You can read a review on that here too. But a conversation took place as we were discussing that one and some inevitable comparing notes occurred. Which led this review of the original.

The first episode of the 1985 series starts by quickly establishing Robert McCall. A CIA agent, calculating and in control of the subway station hostage situation – well, almost. Just as he starts to win the dangerous Cristolldes over, things go wrong very quickly; the final straw persuading him enough is enough with his current employment. Control happens to be the primary thematic struggle of the episode, and not just the name of a character ironically wrestling for dominance of his prize asset, who himself is trying to take his life back.

The crisis of faith; this lack of… well, control (small ‘c’) prompts a different way forward. Although not haunted by the past, he is still subject to an old detective show trope in that McCall’s most successful marriage to date has been the one to his job. Divorced from his wife, we soon meet their son, Scott, for whom McCall has clearly has not been around much. Another fracture in the controlled existence he has. You may recognise Scott – played by William Zabka, of Karate Kid and Cobra Kai fame –who shows up an aspect of life he doesn’t entirely have a handle on.

Speaking of which, the retirement plan isn’t quite going to schedule either. He was never going to quietly enjoy a life of golf and long trips to the beach, otherwise we’d find ourselves with no show. And so we see the famous advertisement that McCall had already placed. The new path is an immediate choice, not one he has to find the way contemporary McCall does.

In another comparative difference, the episode sets up not just one of his future clients, but two. Single mother Carlene and her daughter Sarah find themselves harassed by Steve, a particularly creepy and increasingly dangerous stalker. Meanwhile, Brad Hamilton, telecommunications techie, stumbles upon something his employers would have preferred he hadn’t. Like McCall, Hamilton finds himself in a retirement situation, though the difference here is that his is far less voluntarily offered. He rapidly finds the stakes raising to a lethal level, and calls the famous ad…

Hamilton and McCall have another thing in common; neither of them get to just walk away. ‘Control’, the character, makes a hard-nosed attempt to ensure McCall knows his place with this one. “You are the most dangerous man I have ever known,” Control affirms, after being reminded who he was messing with, yet finds a way to keep McCall on at least a loose leash. And that’s a core strand of the show, the consummate professional who can’t quite get out for a peaceful retirement, not just because the Agency won’t let him go, but also because he won’t let himself. This applies directly both to 1985 Robert McCall and 2021 Robyn McCall. And, for that matter, 2014 Robert McCall, as played by Denzel Washington.

For a man who works alone, he has a strong network of contacts to cover the particular sets of skills outside his own set. This introduces us to Lt. Jefferson Burnett, a known police contact and a voice of reason. As well as Burnett there is Brahms, who has known McCall for long enough to have given him his legendary nickname. Hamilton’s problem is bigger than he realises, and even when he’s safe, McCall continues to investigate the case. This effectively leads to a third client, the heavily compromised Senator Jim Blanding, which ups the stakes enough for McCall to find a way to change the terms with his unwanted leash. Changing the rules. Taking Control, you see.

In a parallel beat to its contemporary show, Carlene can be seen again, pleading to the cops fruitlessly. With the stalker situation escalating, she finally calls the Equalizer too, and their paths cross properly. Steve is a psychological threat to both Carlene and in fact McCall, being a mirror through which we see the mistakes McCall perceives himself to have made and is haunted by. This is clear enough by the perilous conclusion, though serves perfectly to show you the lead character’s growth. His knightly nobility with Carlene also gives us his more human, big-hearted side, a direct contrast to his far colder approach with his first case.

One key note of show comparison here is that though Scott bemoans his father’s absence, he knows McCall’s occupation and says as much; a huge difference from the secret 2021 McCall keeps from her daughter, Delilah, very much his subplot counterpart. Although there is friction, Scott recognises a certain heroism in his father, which earns him a degree of credit we haven’t yet seen in the reboot. Interestingly, Scott only refers to his mother as McCall’s ex-wife here; it’s all remarkably measured for such latent anger. The Carlene plot provides an important tie back into his personal life, as the balance of reconciling with Scott relies on our ability to believe there is a good, genuinely changed man behind the immense threat he carries.

The show carries one of my favourite ever music scores, thanks to composer Stewart Copeland, and the iconic theme is a pulsing, synth-tastic pipe-organ-like (perhaps even saintly?) melody which immediately sets the tone. The title sequence introduces the seedy side of New York City, ending in the iconic image of Woodward’s McCall stood in the darkness and shadow, illuminated only by the headlights of his signature Jaguar XJ6.

It’s amazing what can be done with seven minutes on a TV show, which in US TV commercial break scheduling times, is a considerable percentage. This is how much extra time the 1985 show has over its 2021 counterpart, which also goes some way to nailing how we are able to essentially follow two seemingly unlinked plot strands as opposed to one. However McCall’s relationship, and continuing obligations to the CIA differ between shows. Robyn looks like she might do some favours to old friends, but Bishop, even in name, is not Control, and thus doesn’t have any over her either. It’s subtle, but the relationship dynamic appears to be very different already and whilst I’m uncertain of any deliberate decision to avoid the politics of a woman of colour subservient to a white male governmental contact, it does take that question right off the table.

The shows are the same in spirit; different by nature in execution and potential direction. Where things I suspect are going to diverge, and indeed have already, are on matters of differences of privilege. I cite the example of a scene in which McCall is brandishing a firearm in broad daylight with clear bystanders and nobody bats an eyelid other than the chap he’s waving it at. And the interactions with Scott and Delilah respectively are notably different too, though one to see how develops.

There are narrative places Robyn can go where neither of her predecessors could, really. There are many discussions to be had about privilege, inequalities and fighting the good fight for fairness, which most of us will know well from recent years, which is what the show and films have always had going for them.

One thing is for sure though, and that is that if you consider The Equalizer as an urban myth, there’s something both timeless, and absolutely timely, about McCall. All of them.

Russell Smith