Many shows never make it past their first series, but Miracles was something special, and was plagued by circumstance and a lack of network faith to the point where it was pulled before it could make any sort of lasting impact.
Hitting screens in a time period when US television was keen to cover the war in Iraq in as much detail as possible, an unsettled schedule and disrupted running-order meant that few saw Miracles when it originally aired, and low ratings couldn't justify more than six episodes. The DVD box-set contains all 13 filmed instalments of the series, and the impressive collection really makes a case for bringing it back in some form. After almost a decade, however, this is as much of a lost cause as other programmes that have faded into obscurity, but Miracles was a surprising and different show featuring themes and ideas that haven't really been recreated since.
The premise of the show combines issues of faith and religion with a procedural structure and overriding mythology. Creator Richard Hatem calls the series a "spiritual X-Files" and that's as good a nutshell description as any. What separates Miracles from its various paranormal investigation predecessors is its guts to delve into the delicate area of Catholicism, and following a leading man who, in the pilot, is alienated by corporate thinking deep in the structure of the church. Paul Callan (Skeet Ulrich) is that man, and he goes through a helluva spiritual journey over 13 weeks.
When we meet Paul, he's working at proving or disproving (which is more often the case) alleged miracles across the country. Tired of never witnessing the hand of God for himself, Paul is alienated and frustrated, until he meets a young boy named Tommy (Jacob Smith). Tommy can apparently heal people, but is slowly dying from a rare disease. When Paul is hit by a train, dangerously close to death, Tommy chooses to save him, ending his own life. From this point on, Paul is haunted by his guilt over the event, and the apparition of the boy himself, and continues to wrestle with his faith from week to week.
He is eventually tracked down by the mysterious Alva Keel (Angus MacFadyen), an independent investigator who's been following Paul for some time. Questioning him over his experience at the crash, we learn that the words he saw spelled out in his own blood - "God is now here" - are a variation on others' experiences where they saw the words "God is nowhere". This forms the ongoing mythology for Paul's character and the show overall, and, though we never get these questions fully answered, it's a delightfully evocative seed to plant in the audience's mind. Where this would have gone, we'll never know, but we're encouraged to bring our own experiences to absolutely everything.
Paul joins Alva's organisation, and works with him and Evelyn (Marisa Ramirez) looking into strange goings-on and searching for his own answers. Skeet Ulrich is perfect for the show as, looking and performing like a movie star, he has the ability to carry a show from week to week. Paul is a deeply troubled and broken figure throughout, and never truly recovers his faith in God or peace with the many losses he's suffered. He and Tommy are set up as equals in the pilot, mainly for the stock they put in others' expectations, and Ulrich portrays the crippling effect of this character trait so comfortably.
Despite the interesting, or not so (every series has some mundane filler episodes), things going on elsewhere, we always want to watch him, and the writers do a great job in sprinkling little nuggets of the overriding story throughout every episode. As part of the three-part team, he is by far the strongest, with MacFadyen in particular coming across a little uneven at times. Closed-off and mysterious figures are hard to pull off without becoming detached or humorously hammy and, for every moment of insight into the character of Alva, there's a moment in which he is archetypal just to serve the story at hand.
Further problems occur with the only female character, Evelyn, who is missing from far too much of the series. Not cast for the pilot episode (in which she only appears in the final shot, played by a different actress), Ramirez dithers almost every week with the bare minimum to do. When the trio are investigating, she serves the purpose of covering more ground, but she's never really given her own meaty storyline, and the popular brotherly relationship between Paul and Alva may have contributed to her sidelining. What we did see was interesting, as a single mother and ex-policewoman, but the series didn't have time to delve into her past in any substantial way.
As previously stated, Miracles was essentially a procedural series with a paranormal twist, and it really shone in its standalone instalments. Certain episodes are simply magnificent in their storytelling, performances, and sheer guts, and still stand up today as fresh and inventive examples of television. The Ferguson Syndrome, though not the best episode it produced, is a great example of how to properly set up a show while still being able to stand alone; Hand of God was the most mythology-rich instalment of the run, and managed to combine it with the episodic structure and character development, and Mother's Daughter dealt with ideas of re-incarnation within a living host, set through the prism of a mother's undying attachment.
But the best example of Miracles was almost certainly The Friendly Skies, which is breathtaking in its execution of a story's inherent emotional drama. Following a group of passengers who all experienced a phenomenon when their plane temporarily disappeared, Paul, Alva and Evelyn are enlisted to investigate. Every single story, detailed through admirably mundane interviews, is fascinating and heartbreaking in its own specific way, and the episode is a rollercoaster of experiences even on multiple viewings. As with the rest of the series, the statement was less interested in why the incident happened, and much more concerned with how it affected the people involved.
With shades of Stephen King, The Exorcist, The X-Files, The Twilight Zone, and many other examples of horror cinema and television, Miracles was a special blip in ABC's 2003 schedule, and the potential for a fascinating and influential genre series was ripped away with its cancellation. Though it reached a small and vocal audience during its time on the air, their tireless campaigning wasn't enough to save the show, and it faded away with little fanfare. Still, unlike other cancelled series before and after, Miracles works perfectly well as a standalone mini-series and, for those interesting in horror or fantasy television, or just darn good storytelling, it's essential viewing.
