Jawnts: No superhero, just a guy who aims for good

Elmore Leonard never had a Philip Marlowe or an "Easy" Rawlins. A few of his characters popped up here and there, but there was never a recurring hero, anti or otherwise. The closest he ever got (to my knowledge) is U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens, who got to star in one short story, two novels, and a third he kind of hijacks partway through. He's a laconic lawman, good with a quip, and complete with a Stetson and a love of ice cream: In 1993's

Pronto

, you can feel Leonard liking the guy better and better the longer he writes.

Leonard died in August, at 87, but Raylan carries on in FX's Justified, which began its fifth season this month. Timothy Olyphant is the embodiment of cowboy cool in the lead. Leonard himself sang the man's praises, and even wrote Raylan: A Novel, his last book, based on the show's version of his own characters. And that from an author who openly scorned most of the TV or Hollywood adaptations of his work (and justly so).

Justified is a cops-and-robbers show with the deadpan dialogue of the original material. Missing are the rote plots and clichéd characters of whatever iterations of Law and Order are still on. In a refreshing change from cop shows set in New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago, the action goes down in Harlan County, Ky.

Justified follows the twin trajectories of Raylan and his old coal-mining comrade Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins), who has gone from neo-Nazi militant to born-again preacher to miner, again, to a backwoods kingpin of sorts. (The show makes clear the precariousness of that position, more a balancing act than a cushy fiefdom.) As in Leonard's novels, the criminal life doesn't seem particularly easy or fun, although Goggins does an excellent job of playing a guy who is really good at making it look that way.

In contrast with Boyd's chameleon identity, Raylan is steadfast to an almost monomaniacal degree. You don't doubt your humanity for liking him, as you might with a Walter White or Tony Soprano, but he probably wouldn't make a great adult presence in the average household. His apartment above a college bar gives a hint of his arrested development, frozen in amber as a white-hatted, quick-drawing, embodiment of law (he drinks a lot of whiskey, but looks askance at weed).

The title of the show refers to his utter belief in himself and the righteousness of his actions. "I'll kill four of you before you even clear your weapons, and I'll take my chances with the other two," he calmly threatens in this season's second episode. "And you see this star? That's gonna make it legal." Not really the attitude one looks for in a law enforcement professional.

Justified is very much a part of the TV renaissance, and while it lacks the gravity of The Wire or Mad Men, it isn't a dumb excuse for sex and gore. (See or, preferably, don't: True Blood and Dexter.) That's not to say the show isn't violent. This season's first episode has a numbing body count. Although our marshal is responsible for only one of those deaths, it's still an unflatteringly lurid beginning.

When he first appeared in Pronto, Raylan had never killed anyone and the threat of violence was actually threatening. The show is at its best when it treats gunplay with that same respect. The fun of Justified, like any good western, is in the buildup - sometimes episodes long - to a climactic showdown, as different players maneuver for position, and the occasional decades-old family feud is rekindled. We actually know and care about the people - criminal, cop, and civilian - so it means something when they pull a trigger or catch a bullet.

Driven by the imperatives of a network like FX (Slogan: "Fearless"), Justified no doubt felt the need to let the squib splatter fly. But Leonard didn't generally treat violence casually, and his characters aren't death-dealing machines. Most are like the literary Raylan: They've seen a lot of movies, and aren't shy about aping them. They aren't super-cops or evil masterminds; no one is hyper-competent (Raylan loses a guy in Pronto because he ducks into a Baskin-Robbins to get a cone). But even if the bad guys aren't geniuses or psychopaths, they are still armed, and anyone with a gun is dangerous, especially if they're stupid.

Leonard didn't have too many recurring characters, so there was no guarantee that anyone would make it to the last page. Leonard's final novel, Raylan, lacks punch because you know the titular character, and Boyd, are going to be just fine. By this point there's also little question of that on the show, but the answer isn't to just feed extras into the grinder.

This season's second episode was far stronger - and less reflexively brutal - than the opener, but by the third (which airs Tuesday at 10 p.m.), it's still not clear whether the show has righted its course. Even if Season 5 isn't Justified at its peak, it's still fun to watch, the dialogue is still a joy, and next season will be the last. So enjoy Leonard's Philip Marlowe while you can.

To get properly hooked, begin with the pilot episode, which is based almost line-for-line on the short story "Fire in the Hole" (2001). The rest of the first season is pretty good, but scattershot. You can sense the writers trying to choose between a strong story arc and a case-of-the-week format. The second season is inarguably Justified's best, and the only time the show won any Emmys. It's got matronly pot farmers, mountaintop-removal mining, and moonshine everyone swears tastes like apple pie. It's as good as any show on TV.