given O.J. Simpson's killer ratings on the afternoon and early evening of June 17, 1994, it's a wonder it took almost three years for the normally quick Fox Network to jump on the latest cash cow: the police chase.

Now the network is making up for lost time. "The World's Scariest Police Chases" first aired on Feb. 2; it scored so well in the Nielsens that Fox reran it just a month later. And when this second showing earned Fox's highest ratings for the week, besting even "The X-Files," the network knew it was onto something. Hence, "The World's Scariest Police Chases II," which aired last Sunday, and, if history is any indication, will be airing again real soon.

The World's Scariest shows share a Sunday night time slot on Fox with similar programming: The last few months have brought us "World's Most Incredible Animal Rescues," "World's Funniest Kids Outtakes," "World's Funniest Party Disasters," "World's Funniest Outtakes No. 5" and "TV's Funniest News Outtakes," among others. Assembled from sound stage and newsroom leftovers, with the occasional contribution from the at-home video chef, these shows are a textbook example of late-'90s media repurposing -- they even manage to appropriate material from each other on a regular basis. They're perfect programs for an age of media overload: cheap, appealing to camcorder buffs, fragmentary and non-linear, offering the illusion of channel-surfing without actually requiring anyone to change the channel. It's no coincidence that Fox positions the "World's Whateverest Whatevers" series against Mike Wallace and company: it's the post-MTV challenger to the standard-bearer of old-fashioned linear television. It's "60 Seconds" vs. "60 Minutes."

Even among its low-budget brethren, however, "World's Scariest Police Chases" stands out as a triumph of economy. While the "Funniest" shows employ a celebrity host and a studio audience to generate laughs and "awwws" and applause on cue, "Police Chases" requires no such trappings. All that's needed are a few clips of Oregon Sheriff and "Cops" alumnus John Bunnell in front of a patrol car, a few sound bites from various other officers and the car chase clips themselves. An audience and a set would make it only too obvious that the show is selling cheap, voyeuristic thrills, rather than -- as its producers like to pretend by having narrator Bunnell mouth vague moral platitudes -- providing some form of "public service."

One of the more entertaining aspects of "Police Chases" is the live commentary from reporters in TV news helicopters. With sweeping aerial shots revealing potential paths of escape and imminent obstacles, the reporters approach the situation as if doing play-by-play for a new extreme sport. Gearing up for their version of the home run call -- "Oh, he just broadsided a white Buick!" -- they describe various car-chase techniques and subtleties that would otherwise escape the casual viewer. Upon hearing them smoothly toss off obscure car-chase jargon like the "hit maneuver" and "spike strips," you can't help but wonder how often these reporters document this sort of thing.

The main attraction, of course, is the car chases themselves. Almost every clip has its own small-scale quirk or innovation -- a driver going the wrong way down a highway at 70 mph; frustrated New Zealand cops throwing their night sticks at a car that keeps managing to elude them. And of course there's the added frisson of their stranger-than-fiction reality: Yes, some kid in a stolen 40-foot motor home actually thought he could outrun the police (and the news copters, which are, in fact, far more tenacious pursuers) by going off-road into the Southern California desert. Where exactly did he think he was going to hide?

Despite their winning singularities, the chases all follow the same inevitable plot: Out-of-control driver endangers pedestrians and other motorists; police officers, often out of control themselves, attempt to run the driver off the road; driver continues his flight even as his tires blow out and his car showers sparks in its wake; driver hits another car, or a tree, or a lamp post; car comes to a violent halt; driver tumbles out of it and continues his improbable escape on foot; a dozen screaming cops jump on him and get in as many subtle whacks as the video cameras will permit. After a dozen scenes like this (the show is an hour long, and the clips run anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes), the dramatic tension begins to fade. Monotony at 100 mph is as boring as monotony at half that speed.

On occasion, however, "Police Chases" takes a more personal look at the captured drivers, and these moments are always fascinating. A man who stole a $100,000 Bentley from a showroom and led a convoy of cops on a long, low-speed chase calmly asks, "Why all the trouble? I was just minding my own business, only going 30 miles per hour." Another man, who kidnapped a woman and then led the police on a long, dangerous chase, yells out a jury-rigged justification: "Everything I do I treat people with love!" As anyone who's ever fled from the cops knows, you've got to change speeds now and then to keep things interesting.
May 2, 1997

G. Beato is a regular contributor to Salon.