“Fuck”
The Wire
is, more so than any piece of filmed popular culture I can think of (TV,
Movies, Short Film) an investment. It
takes thought, patience, and all those other things we would normally associate
with, say, books (although I’m of the school of thought that successful books
should be entertainment as well as food for thought. Still, you get the
point). The unfortunate thing about
saving money and investing it is that you can’t go out to a bar three days a
week. The great thing about it is that you can own a bar when you get older.
I would say
that right around this episode, you begin to be rewarded, for the first of many
times, on your decision to watch “The Wire.” Plotwise, the episode is
relatively unspectacular: Lester Freamon’s backstory is revealed, McNulty and
Bunk make some headway on an unsolved murder, and it seems like the cops might
be able to get some electronic trackers on the Barksdale crew. On the criminal
side of the show, Bodie breaks out of juvie, D’Angelo confesses to the murder
of a superior’s girlfriend, and a contract is put out on the
(revealed-to-be-gay) Omar. It seems, at first glance, to be an placesetting
episode, shuffling the pieces for some big dramatic reveal as the season
reaches its mid-point.
But, and
this is my subjective viewpoint, it very much isn’t. Take the show’s clear
centerpiece: the “Fuck” scene. In it, McNulty and Bunk recreate a murder scene,
and the only dialogue uttered is the F-word and variations thereof. To understand why it works, take a look at this clip:
See, the scene above works because of the utter commitment
to repetition. It’s mildly funny, then annoying, and then brilliant, because
it’s so bold. In the same way (except in the context of a police drama instead
of comedy), McNulty and Bunk cursing for 30 seconds would merely be the act of
two cops showing disgust at a horrific murder. But the delivery (and what great
delivery it is) tells the story of two men who know exactly what is being said
without words. They’re not just cops: they’re “natural police,” the phrase Bunk
uses to describe Det. Freamon. They also happen to be two cops who complement
each other as well as lamb and tunafish.
This is an
episode of small moments, all of which work anywhere from quite well to
brilliantly. Herc has an oddly humanizing moment, apologizing for his use of
profanity while searching Bodie’s grandmother house. I think the real brilliant
coup of the scene is the editing: Bodie’s grandma mentions that he came to her
when he was 4 years old, after his mom died. We cut away briefly, and then see
the end of the conversation, and what works so well is that the viewer has
already filled in the details. Drug use,
dropping out of school, whatever is in the viewers head: we just know its bad,
and that’s why Bodie is selling drugs. It’s an act of editing that puts the
inevitability of the cycle of poverty (in this world of utterly failed institutions)
into the viewer’s head. “Of course Bodie was going to be a drug dealer” given
the world he grew up in.
Det.
Freamon’s backstory is also great, setting up again the callousness with which
the police department discards good men who “cause trouble.” Omar gets one
small scene, but it’s a beauty, again anchored by a brilliant actor named
Michael K. Williams. The warmth in his eyes when he sees a young child in need
of food, and the way he holds his boyfriend, says everything that needs to be
said. Andre Royo is almost as impressive in the scene where McNulty brings
Bubbles to his son’s soccer game (with Bubbles’ confused “soccer” in the
running for funniest line of the first season). Greggs’s scenes are effective,
but not quite as spectacular.
I’ll end
with a rant of sorts. One thing that many fans of “The Wire” use to argue its
position in the television pantheon is the claim that it’s “hyper-realistic,”
or something to that effect. I hate that term. “Realism” is used far too often
to describe cynicism, and people assume the obvious resentment “The Wire” has
for the failings of modern society is what makes it a great show. But it’s not
realism that makes it great. It’s scenes like the F-word scene. That scene
could never “happen,” but TV is, like all art, a representation. Scenes are not
just filmed, but watched, and heard. And somewhere in the space between the
screen and the viewer, the greater, grander truth of Bunk and McNulty comes
out.
Thin line
'tween heaven and here. – Bubbles
Big Miss
n
Difficult
to say, but I’ll point to the subplot about Polk (one of the two “humps” who
don’t do any work on the Barksdale case) contemplating self-inflicted injuries
to retire. It’s not that the point is poorly taken, and I could totally buy
that a lazy cop would do something that foolish to avoid work. But it seems
more a use of exaggeration to prove a point instead of the actual actions of a
character
Big Hit
n
You really need me to tell you…Motherfucker?
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