Radar’s departure signaled the show’s endgame was on the horizon. At eight seasons, it had already outlasted the Korean War more than twice over and the 1980s were soon to be upon this show that had been such a staple of the 70s. The first episode after Radar left was called “Period of Adjustment” and that was very much where the show was. Its’ central direction and thesis remained the same, but there was space for even more commitment to dramatic stories and new statements. There would be no more cast changes to the show, and even just the shift of Klinger into Radar’s role in the company, doing away with both his drag and desperation to get out of the army was a sure sign that the kinds of gags and satire prominent when the show started would no longer be such a signature part of it -in fact some of these would even be challenged. There was still that flavour of late-60s counterculture when the show began, but it made less sense by the dawn of Reagan’s America.
In this last era of M*A*S*H, you notice a few more direct message episodes, moralizers that are more blunt than the series used to be. Single issue episodes came about every so often that could resort to some simplifications around issues of sexism, racism, ableism, immigration, suicide (and at least one episode attempts to discuss, unwisely, the politics around mixed-race children and Korean notions of racial purity) -as well-intentioned as they are. I wonder if this is not an effect of as Harry Morgan admitted, the series beginning to run out of ideas at this point -the writers having mostly exhausted the stories drawn from real MASH veterans that had been a prominent source of inspiration earlier. Certainly it’s noticeable when an episode is repeating a premise from earlier in the run. There’s maybe more space between the great episodes but they are still there, and some are still particularly impressive in their ambition.
I think of season eight’s “Dreams” or season ten’s “Follies of the Living -Concerns of the Dead” which are more surreal in breaking with the shows’ typical reality. I think of the episodes that tackle mental health or trauma in upfront ways, such as “Heal Thyself” in which a competent visiting surgeon breaks under pressure, or “Pressure Points”, wherein Potter suffers a psychological crisis of confidence when he accidentally makes a mistake in surgery. The show had settled into a groove at this point, though not a lethargic one. Indeed this era for me really defines M*A*S*H as a comfort show -one with fully realized, genuine characters who you just like to spend a half hour with. Not every episode impresses, but every episode has a warmth to it.
One of the things I like most is the level of character that comes out of this portion of the show. Indeed some of its’ strongest episodes are just drama-infused character pieces where we get a better sense of the personalities, psychologies, and insecurities of the remaining centralized cast. A major tenet of B.J.’s character becomes more fully his concern and longing for his family back home, sometimes to the detriment of his work and attitude at the 4077th. It is touched on in several episodes such as “Period of Adjustment”, “Oh, How We Danced”, and “Wheelers and Dealers”. Charles continues to grow into a richer character, empathetic in ways Frank Burns never could have been. He encourages a disabled pianists’ continued pursuit of music (“Morale Victory”), stands up for Margaret against his own self-interest (“No Laughing Matter”), ardently defends a patients’ stammer against bullies (“Run for the Money”), and mentors a Chinese band in the series finale.
Klinger, granted more responsibility as company clerk, actually matures into someone who cares about his duties and reputation. In a two-parter from season ten, his career is on the line with genuine stakes felt. And after a marriage that began and ended while away in Korea, in the penultimate episode Klinger finds a new love interest Soon-Lee (Rosalind Chao) whom he marries in the series finale. Father Mulcahy finds more purpose than ever in the shows’ ensemble as a moral leader, as well as a spiritual one, capable of introspection as to his own faults as demonstrated in “Blood Brothers”, and standing strong in the face of a gunman in “A Holy Mess”. Potter slips into the revered beloved elder statesman role more pertinently than before, a sense of sadness permeating a lot of his character but also a grandfatherly enthusiasm. Morgan was one of the actors who got the most emotionally out of the show, and it’s palpable. He’s even allowed his own near-romance or two in this period.
Margaret, as much a series-long staple as Hawkeye, is drawn in a more sympathetic light than ever. We finally meet her career officer dad in “Father’s Day” in season nine, where we see how much she had had to work all her life for his approval, and still struggles. She has to contend with her authority as an officer in her relationship with an old friend in “Bottoms Up”. And in “The Birthday Girls”, she opens up about her childhood as an army brat and lack of relationships she formed because of it -to Klinger of all people. Each instance, Loretta Swit is giving some of the best material she’s had to work with on this show. It’s delightful to see her come into her own from where she started.
Hawkeye remained front and centre these final years, as did Alan Alda behind the scenes, showrunner in all but official title. The more war drama becomes an integral part of the show’s DNA, the more Hawkeye is defined by his steadfast principles, and most “Hawkeye episodes” deal with that in some way or another. His exhaustion with the war plays a part too -you more consciously feel how long he’s been there, much as the show’s time frame is in constant flux. As a tangent, the temporal inconsistency is more apparent in this era of the show than ever, where at one point Hawkeye and B.J. are asked directly how long they’ve been there and they skirt about it. They still occasionally make specific references -”A War for All Seasons” is very emphatically set between New Years’ 1950 and 1951. But more often the early 50s becomes a non-specific sludge at least until the finale which depicts the end of the war. Building up to that in the last couple seasons, Hawkeye is particularly anxious -the shows’ longevity really reflecting now how arduous the war is for the people over there. There are a few deep dives into Hawkeye, the most notable being a repressed childhood trauma as the cause of a sneezing fit in “Bless You, Hawkeye” that Friedman diagnoses -a beat that’s famously played much better in the finale. There are also a few challenges to his long-standing character: he is made to give up drinking and joking in respective episodes as seemingly a narrative experiment that does betray a bit a lack of ideas on the writers’ part. But he also faces a few more substantial reckonings, as with his sexual shallowness in “Hey, Look Me Over” or his mortality in “Where There’s a Will, There’s a War”. Most frequently though, he butts heads with authority figures -which may be what Hawkeye has always been best at: army brass, bigoted commanders, bureaucrats, fraudulent war correspondents, irate patients, and even a visiting a expert surgeon played by Alda’s father (his brother also appears in that same episode).
Both Hawkeye and Alda’s biggest moment of the late years though would come in the finale, a two and a half hour TV movie. Ahead of that though, one more time, I’ll run through some particular highlight episodes from the final years of M*A*S*H -starting with “Period of Adjustment” in which Klinger struggles with taking on Radar’s responsibilities and B.J. struggles with his daughter mistaking Radar for himself. “Life Time” is an episode set in real-time as the doctors rush to operate on a patient with severe wounds. In “Old Soldiers”, Potter realizes he is the last of his World War I platoon and bonds with his new family. “Dreams” allows a brief glimpse into the subconscious of each character, one of the boldest and most provocative outings as it delves deep into metaphor and surreality. “Back Pay” sees Hawkeye raise a stink about not being paid well by the U.S. military compared to surgeons stateside, while the season eight finale “April Fools” features a ton of great pranks, an irate general played by Pat Hingle, and a very fun twist.
Season nine’s “Blood Brothers” brings together beautifully Father Mulcahy’s stress over a visiting Cardinal with the situation of a terminal patient played by, of all people, Patrick Swayze. “The Life You Save” is one of the best Charles episodes, and maybe David Ogden Stiers’ acting highlight of the show, as he copes with a near fatal sniper attack by pondering an afterlife and going to the front. Though the concept of “Follies of the Living -Concerns of the Dead” in season ten seems pretty outlandish and can occasionally feel awkward, it has some interesting perspective and an unusually haunting ending. In “A Holy Mess”, Father Mulcahy grants sanctuary in the mess tent for an angry AWOL soldier dealing with bad news from home. “Where There’s a Will, There’s a War”, also concerned with mortality, finds Hawkeye writing his will while at Battalion in expectation he may die there. “Sons and Bowlers” is a sweet episode where Hawkeye and Charles bond while the elder Pierce lies in hospital back in Maine.
The first episode of season eleven, “Hey, Look Me Over” at long last gives Nurse Kellye her due, with a focus on her self-esteem in relation to being left out of Hawkeye’s womanizing -really makes you wish she’d gotten more to do over the series. “Trick or Treatment” is notable for being the shows’ only Halloween episode and for featuring Cheers’ George Wendt as a patient with a pool ball stuck in his mouth. In “Who Knew”, a nurse Hawkeye slept with but whom nobody seemed to know is killed, and he is made to confront his guilt and casual philandering. “Bombshells” is named for a Marilyn Monroe plot, but more interestingly sees B.J.’s ethics tested when he is forced to leave a wounded soldier behind in a war zone. “The Moon is Not Blue”, a great episode for movie fans, follows Hawkeye and B.J. try to book a supposedly explicit movie. And the series’ penultimate episode, “As Time Goes By”, in addition to setting up the finale, serves as a sweet reminiscence as the gang plants a time capsule which includes among other things, one of Colonel Blake’s fishing lures and Radar’s teddy bear. The cast themselves actually planted a time capsule in honour of the series coming to an end -this being the final episode they filmed.
That at last brings us to “Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen”, the most successful narrative episode by a measurable metric in U.S. TV history. It was enormous! People who hadn’t tuned into the show in years watched M*A*S*H’s final episode aired on February 28th 1983. It’s a piece of television history, but I think it’s gone underwritten for that fact alone -because it is indeed on its’ own merits one of the best series finales. Directed by Alan Alda with no laugh track and written by virtually the entire writing staff, it features several plotlines for most of the main cast, but principally in its’ early goings focuses on Hawkeye and one last war trauma he is forced to endure. He’s in a psychiatric hospital with Freedman at the start being diagnosed for a nervous breakdown stemming from a recently repressed episode -I won’t reveal it, but it has it’s own pop culture infamy and may stand as the darkest moment in M*A*S*H. Meanwhile, the 4077th is flooded with refugees as B.J. receives his repatriation orders, Charles teaches music to a band of Chinese POWs, Klinger gets closer to Soon-Lee, the refugee whom he had met the previous episode, Margaret is appointed to an administrative post, Father Mulcahy saves some prisoners from mortar shelling at the cost of most of his hearing, and Colonel Potter oversees what’s sure to be a new status quo for the 4077th.
Shortly after Hawkeye comes back, the ceasefire is formally declared. And for the back half of the finale, the camp is packed up for the last time, surgery performed for the last time, and everyone goes their separate ways. There’s also a wedding! Klinger gets married, becomes ironically the one person to stay in Korea to search for Soon-Lee’s family -he being the one who most ardently wanted out. Touching goodbyes are had all around as like in the best finales, each character exits one by one. And it is very emotional -the cast genuinely getting choked up. Potter and Margaret break into tears, and in the end Hawkeye and B.J. have the most heartfelt farewell.
The episode’s undercurrent is about their friendship, B.J. being determined not to leave until Hawkeye comes back, them having a temporary falling out, before bidding each goodbye at the landing pad with a sweet hug and a kiss (this was the early 80s so that kind of male affection was quietly revolutionary). Hawkeye takes off in the chopper, B.J. on a motorcycle that he had acquired during the episode -his interest in them having been laid in the previous couple seasons- with a message spelt out in stones where the Swamp used to be “GOODBYE”. It’s a stunning moment of television, Alda’s direction on another level for this extended TV movie affair, and most importantly it feels earned, both in the depths of its’ drama and its’ sentimentality. It’s the end of a long journey and really feels that way in terms of its’ growth, how it has both changed and stayed the same -the best outcome for any good series.
It’s such a perfect finale that it makes me irritated by the mere existence of AfterMASH, a two-season spin-off that I’ve never seen following Potter, Klinger, Soon-Lee, and Father Mulcahy in civilian life that I’m reliably told is one of the worst TV shows of that decade. Radar also got a spin-off pilot called W*A*L*T*E*R in 1984 that didn’t go anywhere, and though not directly tied to the show, a series called Trapper John M.D. utilized the character from Hookers’ original novel, now played by Pernell Roberts for a medical drama that began airing in 1979. Wayne Rogers was apparently approached for it but declined. None of these were exactly Frasier, the magic of M*A*S*H couldn’t be replicated outside of the war zone. After 1986, when Trapper John ended, there was no more M*A*S*H content to be produced.
And that’s just fine. M*A*S*H had a run that most series’ would envy and contrary to its’ decade-plus production and occasional creative lapses, I don’t think it overstayed its’ welcome -certainly not for me watching it decades later. Aspects of it may be dated, even on just the technical and writing side, but other aspects still feel remarkably fresh. You get the sense the people behind it, from Gelbart and Reynolds to Metcalf and Alda, all the writers, producers, and directors, that they cared about it a lot. They cared about what they were saying, how they were saying it, and perhaps even how to make the television space more compelling. There weren’t any other shows like it, even those that also tried to dance between comedy and drama, none did it better than M*A*S*H. It’s legacy has made so many shows that have come since possible.
I first discovered it in college, after completing my watch-throughs of classic shows Cheers and Frasier. And I’ve returned to it more often than those because it has an endearing character and premise and because it feels so much more modern in identity and outlook. I’ve seen war through this show depicted in a way that no other piece of media dealing directly with that theme has intimated. And few other shows ultimately encapsulate the found family motif so sought after in television -especially today. M*A*S*H is a very good show to watch today. I daresay that but for the issues I mentioned before, its’ themes and politics have aged greater than many a show that has succeeded it -certainly Friends, the most popular pre-twenty-first century sitcom in the streaming age. It even flirts with tenets of modern leftism on occasion -a rare thing for any show of any age.
M*A*S*H has left an imprint on me. To this day I still remember every hometown of its’ characters, each corner of the Swamp or the Colonel’s office -in Potter’s time decorated with all the paintings of his colleagues over the years. I still recall vividly those episodes that I think are high watermarks for the show, and could argue for “B.J.’s moustache” as an equivalent to “Riker’s beard”. And the further away from it we get the more I’m compelled to look it over again. It’s fifty years later; Gelbart, Reynolds, and most recently Metcalfe have passed away. So too has McLean Stevenson, Larry Linville, Harry Morgan, Wayne Rogers, William Christopher, and David Ogden Stiers. Alan Alda, now in his late eighties, still talks about the show sometimes on his podcast -I recently saw a snip of a reunion he had with Loretta Swit and Mike Farrell. They’re so old now, but the spark of their characters still lingers behind their eyes.
I wish there was more public recognition going on. It reminds me of how when Mary Tyler Moore died, it wasn’t much talked about beyond one half-hour Oprah special and some fleeting acknowledgement in the occasional newscast. This for a woman who changed television. M*A*S*H changed television as well, so many shows owe it a huge debt of gratitude, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any more than a Jamie Farr-hosted rerun playlist on an oldies cable channel.
So here I am doing my small part. A small part that amounts to more than 10,000 words on a series that ended almost a decade before I was born. But I can’t help it. I love M*A*S*H. It’s one of those shows I feel I’ll return to as long as I can, and which I hope others have the opportunity to as well. Disney+ (or Hulu in the States) has it there for new audiences to discover. But of course streaming is an impermanent thing, which is why it’s good that the show is also available in full on DVD (and hell if you’re curious, the movie is included in the boxset) -though no Blu-ray release as of yet. I hope it is allowed to be preserved. M*A*S*H was a unique and important show that broke new ground and redefined genre conventions for its’ medium -and it was a hell of a lot of fun as it did so!
Pouring a martini out to the 4077th, everyone who made it real, and everyone who found just a little joy at that sometimes wacky, sometimes moving, sometimes intense but always earnest little medical post somewhere in the vicinity of Uijeongbu, Korea -halfway to a hundred years ago.
“I can’t imagine what this place would have been like if I hadn’t found you here.”
-Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt, “Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen”
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