Television the Terrorizer

Expressions of terror.

You see them tonight in “The Trial of Bernhard Goetz” on PBS.

And you saw them personified Monday in mass murderer Charles Manson when he was interviewed by Geraldo Rivera. Charlie to Geraldo: “I can send for your head and put it in a box, if I wanted.” To help viewers catch the creepy drift, Manson’s threat was followed by Halloween-type music.

Tonight’s “American Playhouse” production concerning the Goetz case (at 8 p.m. on Channel 28 and at 9 p.m. on Channel 15) is an honest effort to dramatically and faithfully present selected portions of the trial of a man claiming he was driven by self-defensive fear to commit an act of violence.

Rivera’s use of his syndicated talk show (on KCBS-TV Channel 2) to “probe the mind” of Manson--following his recent “Murder: Live From Death Row” special that utilized segments of the same Manson interview--was disgustingly gratuitous and mutually exploitative.

Both programs, however, tap society’s dichotomous attitude toward violence: We’re terrified and we’re captivated.

You watch the mesmerizing 2 1/2-hour micro-version of Goetz’s 1987 trial sometimes understanding the panicking fright and rage that Goetz (Peter Crombie) says he felt on a New York subway in 1984, when he pulled a gun and fired at four young thugs he was convinced were going to rob him. He was acquitted of attempted murder, but convicted of a weapons charge that is still under appeal.

Included here is a 25-minute depiction of Goetz’s rambling, two-hour videotaped confession that was shown to the jury. It declares war on the American system of justice and defines the morality debate concerning the Goetz case, where victim and victimizer blur as one.

Like the rest of the program, it is lifted verbatim from the trial transcript and is so convincingly realistic that it’s unthinkable that Crombie is not actually Goetz--raw, throbbing, spontaneous, explosive and disturbed, speaking in frantic stutters and gasps as he angrily rationalizes his admitted “vicious” and “cold-blooded” action as that of an urban victim striking back.

We also hear from two blacks shot by the white Goetz (the case’s racial implications are unspoken, but evident) and other witnesses implying that his action was premeditated and unprovoked.

“The Trial of Bernhard Goetz” is the kind of severe, contained, interior drama that’s ideal for the small screen, brilliantly directed by co-producer Harry Moses (a former “60 Minutes” producer) and staged in a courtroom setting marked by austere impressionism.

In reducing 4,600 pages of trial transcript to a TV script, Moses has included part of an electrifying clash between defense attorney Barry Slotnick (Richard Libertini) and defiant James Ramseur (Larry B. Scott), one of the youths shot by Goetz. As Judge Stephen Crane (Dann Florek) virtually begs Ramseur to complete his testimony, meanwhile, prosecutor Gregory Waples (Andrew Robinson) looks on stoically.

The sequence is too long and out of balance with the rest of the trial, yet it’s also extraordinary--splendidly performed and a geyser of smoldering, seething emotions from a member of the underclass whose rage is as powerful as Goetz’s.

Goetz does not testify, and we aren’t told why. If “The Trial of Bernhard Goetz” has a major failing, however, it’s a lack of breadth. Almost exclusively, Moses has chosen the role of journalist over dramatist, narrowly focusing on the trial transcript while omitting the kind of dramatic interpretation that adds clarity and meaning. He provides enthralling TV while adding little to our scanty understanding of human behavior.

Although Goetz said that he had been attacked in New York prior to the subway incident, relatively few of us become victims of violence. It just seems that that a lot do.

Some years ago, researchers at the University of Pennsylvania began describing something they called the “mean world syndrome:” TV--by presenting violence in entertainment and news programs at a level far in excess of its real-life frequency--has convinced us that the world outside our front door is flat-out “mean.”

In other words, TV is scaring us to death.

Enter TV bogeyman Geraldo Rivera, reliving that 1968 murderous rampage by the Manson gang.

“Its gruesomeness was a kick in the nation’s gut,” Rivera said on his talk show Monday, where he intercut numerous clips of his Manson interview with a studio discussion and his own bold revelations. “My diagnosis: He’s evil!”

Locked away for life in San Quentin (technically, he can be paroled, but won’t be), Manson has only one power these days: the power to frighten people. And he can’t even do that without a stage. Rivera delivered the stage--a stage built for two.

There they were on tape, Charlie and Geraldo, goblin to goblin, actor to actor, performing for the cameras, Charlie with a swastika on his forehead, Geraldo with his shirt sleeves rolled up in preparation for this nose-to-nose duel.

“There’s people who say you’re the devil!” Rivera charged.

“OK, I’ll play,” Manson replied. “I’ll be the devil.”

Later, they both crouched near the floor as Manson explained his hold on his followers. The two continued to argue.

“You’re a murderer and a dog, Charlie,” Rivera snarled. “A murderer and a dog,” Manson repeated. “You’re a mass murderer and a dog,” Rivera added. Nyeh, nyeh, nyeh-nyeh nyeh.

And much later, Rivera clearly could take no more. How dare this brutal, incoherent criminal Manson act like a brutal, incoherent criminal in front of Geraldo Rivera, who had come to San Quentin hoping that Manson would act like a brutal, incoherent criminal.

Geraldo to Charlie: “I get (angry), man! I can play, but I get (angry).”

About this time, you began wondering if the wrong man was locked up.

This entire episode was a vivid example of mutual back scratching, of using and being used. Manson was manipulating the camera and Rivera was manipulating Manson, and both knew what was going on and reveled in the process--the mutually beneficial partnership of crime biz and show biz.

Don’t shows like this “feed his ego?” one member of the audience wondered.

“After almost 20 years, why is society still obsessed with Charles Manson and the mass murders?” asked another.

For the same inexplicable reason that society is attracted to the very violence that it fears. Our fascination with evil--from Nazism to organized crime--is documented in the profit sheets of the publishing and entertainment industries and Rivera’s own specials.

At the same time, the public call for self-serving Manson retrospectives such as Rivera’s and the repulsive one on Fox’s “A Current Affair” Monday on KTTV Channel 11--featuring grisly, shadowy, slo-mo re-enactments of the Manson gang’s killings--has yet to be heard.

“He knows very well what he is doing, and he’s having a great time doing it,” sociologist Jack Levin said about Manson on Rivera’s show. So what possible good purpose can be served by giving someone like Manson a forum, by pleasing him? What lessons are to be learned that would justify giving him exposure?

The only lesson, unfortunately, is that some TV people will do anything for an audience.

“He’s so full of crap,” Geraldo said. In that regard, Manson was in good company.