The Wire: Slapstick (S3:E9)

"Bang Bang I hit the ground / Bang Bang that awful sound"

            This is my second time making it through “The Wire,” and rewatching a piece of entertainment really changes how one thinks about it. It’s like the second time watching “Fight Club,” when you’re looking for all the proof that Tyler Durden is the Narrator. You know what’s coming, and you’re looking for the lead-up to the developments. I forgot, however, that this was the episode where Prez accidentally kills a fellow cop, up until the point when he and Jimmy go out to get chinese food. It’s not a twist that is hinted at the whole time: it just happens, randomly in the moment.

            It’s a crushing moment where just about everything goes wrong. He made a mistake, indulged his violent instinct (we saw it before in Season One) and didn’t do good policework. Prez is, I think, a fundamentally good person (and there is a lot of evidence of that coming next season), but he has a dark side. That side may or may not be racist, as he admits, but it’s there, and bad luck of the worst kind hits him right here. The whole police department thinks of Prez as a screw-up, when in fact he’s become damn good at his very behind-the-desk investigations. That difference between what “is” and what ends up being important in the bureaucracy is a constant theme of the show, with the real horror coming from real issues being glossed over by political concerns.

            A similar event occurs in Hamsterdam. Carver finds a dead body in the free-zone, and realizes that if homicide comes to the area the experiment will be over. He decides, in the moment, to move the body out of the territory, tampering a crime scene by the generally grotesque act of altering a corpse. It may be for the greater good, but it’s still an inversion of the truth (a pretty solemn one, a murder) for the sake of political concerns. Institutions, goals, rules: they all matter. They matter when the federal government won’t concentrate on drug crime, they matter when a potential do-gooder can’t get permits to build a gym unless he knows someone (luckily, he does), and they matter in a racially-charged Baltimore Police Department. Even the benign rules have far-reaching impacts.

            Of course, sometimes a cover-up doesn’t require a big institutional rationale. In the case of D’Angelo Barksdale’s murder, it’s all about saving face. Stringer had him killed, Avon now knows, but both have to lie (although I think Avon might word his responses to avoid out-and-out lying) to Brianna about her son’s fate. Avon is clearly a mess about the thing, with his angry speech to Brianna about never having anything to do with “whatever happened to D” also indirectly a response to Stringer. But business is business, and they’re at war, so they get over what’s happened and proceed with their lives.

           

“…while you’re waiting for moments that never come.” –Freamon       

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  “Ed Burns” is thrown out by McNulty as an example of a good cop in the city. He is, of course, one of the show’s executive producers/primary writers, as well as a former Baltimore Cop. I’m sure the other names are references to things I don’t understand as well.

n  The cop is unfortunately the second victim of friendly fire, Omar’s female associate being the first. “The Wire’s” a pretty compelling narrative in that regard, in that its sprawling nature (Omar’s plot is almost wholly detached from Prez’s) can show just how easily mistakes happen. It provides a lot of political fodder (an argument for gun control?), but I just think it’s interesting to see the whole picture connected in odd ways.

n  Herc finally snaps and calls up the Baltimore Sun (we’ll see more of them in Season Five) to inform them about Hamsterdam.

n  Carcetti is clearly torn about how much he can betray Anthony Gray in his ambitions to run for mayor.

n  The Co-op is concerned about the violence between Barksdale and Marlo, but without any effective incentives to make Stringer stop (which only Prop Joe has, with his connection), they’re basically impotent.

n  Clay Davis, still playing Stringer. Stringer, still can’t build anything.

The Wire: Moral Midgetry (S3:E8)

“There’s a War on War”

            Let’s start with the ending. “The Wire” is often described as novelistic, as opposed to, say, episodic television, and you’ll find no better evidence than in the episode’s conclusion. This show is an investment, and although you might not find discrete episodes that are as fantastic as some standalone episodes of “The Sopranos,” moments like this are worth waiting for. It’s one of those great fights, almost like one between a married couple, where all the tensions that have gone unsaid in a violent, crushing exchange. It’s short, actually, but that doesn’t make it any less painless.

            Avon finally calls out Stringer for performing the role of businessman, while not living either that part or the part of a true druglord. It’s a totally valid criticism, but I think the episode also shows us that Avon might not be quick enough for the game anymore. Face it: he’s not as brutal as Marlo (and we’ll see evidence of that next week), he doesn’t have soldiers as talented (“Would you rather…meet Chris Partlow or Snoop in a dark alley”), and he’s missing as much of the picture as Stringer is. Stringer’s the more scummy of the two, absolutely. But, more than anything, Stringer and Avon share the same fatal flaw: a lack of recognition that together they are far more than the sum of their parts. This makes it all the more crushing when Stringer reveals to Avon he killed D’Angelo in a fit of jealousy (Avon fights back, but “loses” due to his shoulder gunshot wound. It’s easy to dismiss Stringer as cheap in the fight, but based on the actor’s muscle tone, I wouldn’t doubt Idris Elba’s fighting ability). The violence is relatively tame, but the crushing part is the silence afterwards, with only the two men’s heavy breathing in the air. It’s an excruciating minute of television, seeing a friendship, a lifetime partnership really, broken up in one moment. Even if String is still an ass.

            How did Avon get wounded, you may ask? I’ll tell you. Marlo may not seem human, but he does seem to enjoy the, um, basest of human pleasures, at a club one night. Avon has set him up, in a way, using the girl as a way to draw Marlo into the open. The plan backfires, however: Chris Partlow is always around, ominous (he gets minimal dialogue this season, but his presence is that of the Grim Reaper’s), and when Snoop catches a guy bringing four sandwiches to a car outside Marlo’s motel, he makes his move. He only clips Avon, but he takes out Sandwich Man. In essence, Avon learned that not only is he not dealing with a fool here, but he’s dealing with an organization even more wildly cautious than his own.

            And Avon would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for someone insisting on working within the construction business and not playing everything in the drug game cautiously. Stringer gets played so obviously by Clay Davis, giving him God knows how much money as a bribe (I always use “Dodgeball” when trying to figure out how much money is in a briefcase), and doesn’t realize he isn’t ready for the “big leagues.” He’s a known murderer, thug, etc., and that reputation doesn’t work well even in the businesses of Baltimore.

            On another note: how much of an ass is McNulty? Making passes at Kima (KIMA!), pretending to be racist because he assumes someone in Virginia whose a cop must be racist (which ends with the great reveal that he’s married to his black deputy), and then just absolutely ruining Brianna Barksdale with guilt. McNulty insinuates that only Donnette cared about D’Angelo (but she didn’t, BECAUSE SHES SLEEPING WITH STRINGER!) when only D’s family, she and Avon, really gave a shit. McNulty’s tactics work, somehow, but he’s due for a rude awakening. He’s just not as good at police as he thinks he is, and one of these days his cocky side should get the best of him. Or maybe not: difficult to tell in Baltimore.

“Crawl, walk, and then run” –Clay Davis

           

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  THIS IS 2004: No Usher this week, but we do hear J-Kwon’s stone cold classic “Tipsy.”

n  Marlo even has sex creepily, although I must admit that “It worked for me” is a beautiful post-coital sentiment.

n  Carcetti looks longingly at footage of himself speaking in the council, like a teenager watching “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” for the first time.

n  “I see a man without a country. Not hard enough for this right here, and maybe, just maybe not smart enough for them out there”

n  If you’re a Springsteen fanatic, like me, you’ll notice an impressive thing standing in the background of the gym Cutty visits: Clarence Clemons, “The Big Man” saxophonist of The E Street Band. I don’t know why they casted him, but it was an awesome decision.

The Wire: Back Burners (S3:E7)

“Where do we go / where do we go now”

            This might be because I’m writing this the morning that I witness my last move-in of freshmen into my lovely university, but isn’t change brutal? It can be great, exciting, don’t get me wrong (e.g. when I moved in), but it seems so random, yet obviously inescapable. You might be able to adapt, as the unit does to the burners. Alternately, something random might pop up to ruin your day, like when they realize that Avon Barksdale is back on the street. Change is going to come: the only thing that remains unknown is what it brings.

            Hamsterdam, of course, is messing with a lot of things right now. We hear the statistics about the reduced crime in most of the district, and we’ve previously seen people out watering their lawn (because that’s what counts as progress in Baltimore), but there are huge costs. “Known Unknowns” and “Unknown Unknowns,” to borrow a War on Terror description. Major Colvin knew that eventually another cop would come upon Hamsterdam, he just didn’t know when. He was lucky enough here for it to be McNulty et al., cops who will probably keep mum on the experiment. I doubt, however, he could have anticipated the anarchy that would descend upon the children of the Drug War.

            Carver’s solution remains one of the more interesting parts of the season. “The Wire” is not a documentary, even if it does aim for realism, and I think there’s cause to doubt the plausibility of the whole welfare system arising in West Baltimore. But the Hamsterdam experience is as much thought-experiment as anything else. “Deadwood’s” true genius was in how it explored, through the Western genre, the way societies come to be, how the governments, economies etc. organize themselves in new communities. In many ways, that’s what Hamsterdam is (“West” Baltimore, after all), an assortment of cops and criminals tentatively cooperating to improve everyone’s lot. On both shows, and as it is in life, there are a ton of setbacks.

            The kids themselves, of course, are the main issue arising out of Hamsterdam. All laws create the demand for bureaucrats to deal with them, and for citizens to try and get around them, and the runners and lookouts of the drug game are no different than, say, lawyers and “political consultants” (borrowing Clay Davis’ title for a second). If the law vanishes, their job does too, and West Baltimore doesn’t have the type of community that could support them. Carver, the socialist pig, realizes that Hamsterdam’s value is great enough that he can tax the dealers with little threat of them leaving (ECONOMIC GEOGRAPHY), and so decides to set up a welfare system of quasi-afterschool programs for the kids…only the kids are already not going to school. It’s a start, but the broken basketball hoop shows that there’s a ton more work to be done.

            Meanwhile, Marlo fires his first shot in the war with the Barksdale Organization, enlisting Snoop to take out Poot’s corner. Among the many drive-by shootings in “The Wire,” this one sticks out for two reasons. One, Snoop looks so absurdly childish on the motorcycle before she shoots at Poot. It’s why she’s so effective as a character, a stone-cold murderer at age 12. Two, the way Poot plays possum is a great fake-out, and also a logical one. He’s clearly reeling from shock at the shooting, and gets up with his associate’s blood covering his shirt. It all happens so fast, no one knows how to react.

            One final thought: it’s no secret that David Simon, Ed Burns and the staff of “The Wire” are largely anti-War on Drugs, but credit to them for showing the horrors of drug legalization in Hamsterdam throughout the episode. Bubbles’ walk through Hamsterdam is beyond nightmarish. The audio mix is slightly off, with only Bubbles being fully intelligible, and the dope fiends are horrible. It makes even non-sober Bubbles seem downright responsible by comparison, but it also shows a ring of hell the show could very well have ignored. Keeping drugs concentrated in one area may allow for “regular” people to have a safer home, yet that of course has a cost. As does everything.

           

“Conscience do cost” – Butchie

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  THIS IS 2004 ALERT: Remember how big Confessions was as an album? If not, “The Wire” is there to help, as this is the second straight episode with an Usher song, “Burn.” And I’m sure “Yeah” is going to show up soon.

n  It’s interesting how Colvin’s tactical deployment argument is similar to how Obama functionally legalized the Dream Act by declining to deport qualifying illegal immigrants. Both men are certainly in the right, but the argument does ring kind of hollow.

n  A nice little fade-to-black off of Kima throwing the file-holder thing at the camera.  Also, does anyone do better angry eyes than Lance Reddick?

n  I really thought that Dozerman would have a breakdown on stage judging from how nervous he was.

n  Yes, I overuse Caps Lock for mock humorous effect. I’m aware, and I have no intention of changing it.

n  Omar, meanwhile, gets a relatively dry subplot intended to wrap up a few loose ends. He’s still in shock from Bunk’s dressing down, and decides to do a favor for the man by finding Dozerman’s gun. It frees up Bunk and Omar to do more interesting things, but is itself relatively dry (although Butchie gets, as always, a good monologue out of the thing, about the futility of focusing on sorrow).

n  How many times does the show dip into the “Butchie’s blind, but he sees more than everyone” well? It’d be irritating if it weren’t such a well-written role.

n  As always, props to the writing staff for the will to make McNulty so unlikeable. Making you feel for the bosses, Daniels in this case, is difficult, but McNulty is so clearly a selfish ass about the policework, and the show resists any temptation to make him the loveable rogue here. His pursuit of Theresa seems more like delusional stalking than flirting, and everyone’s face when he shows up to work demonstrates what little respect the unit has for him.

n  I think the reason I like Cutty so much as a character is how well he portrays a sort of inability to express himself. Writers tend to write eloquent characters because they (hopefully) are, but it takes real skill to write some who actually can’t say how he’s feeling. 

The Wire: Homecoming (S3:E6)

“War, children. It’s just a shot away.”

            What’s a little police brutality between old acquaintances? The opening montage demonstrates a really uncomfortable point about why cops are so often accused of harming criminals: they do it because it’s joyful. You have the full ability to abuse your enemy, and because you’re on the right side of the law and criminals can’t go to anyone else (complaining to cops about cops?), so you can normally get away with it, even if it isn’t in pursuit of a grandiose drug legalization program. But, more importantly, they just seem to enjoy doing it. Look at Detective Santangelo when he drops off the drug dealers somewhere in the middle of nowhere of North Maryland. Part of its revenge, surely, but part of it’s a sad fact: humans generally love exerting dominion over others, cops and criminals alike. Violence is, all too often, as potent an intoxicant as any drug being slung on the streets of Baltimore.

            However, the cops are nothing compared to Marlo and Avon. They’re brutal, and normally efficient, and both are looking for war. Unfortunately, in the “Who ya got” category, Avon is suffering. His underlings are woefully incompetent, as they ruin literally every part of Slim Charles and Cutty’s plan (approaching from the driver’s side, being only two blocks away, not waiting for a phone call) and, subsequently, lose two people in what was supposed to be a simple ambush. Marlo is, for now, a presence on the sideline, not acting against Avon quite yet, but we can see he’s confident, he’s ruthless, and he’s got the better muscle on his side because, well, how could he have worse?

            Stringer has always been averse to violence, businessman that he is, and it’s starting to bite him on both sides. Seeing him rendered impotent by the random suits in the construction business feels so wrong, yet simultaneously, it’s the only way it could be. The drug world has implicit agreements, fucked as they may be, and they don’t translate to the highly codified, semi-legitimate world of condo-building. He’s thinking like an academic version of a businessman, not like an actual one, and his pie-in-the-sky dreaming (because academia must always be pie-in-the-sky) has disconnected him from both the streets and the real world.

            This is, at its core, Cutty’s episode. We see both sides of the man: who he once was, and who he is now. He’s brutally efficient with his first plan, even if it isn’t executed, and looks all the part of a hitman riding around in black with Slim Charles. But once he sees Fruit, a man he has every reason to shoot, he can’t pull the trigger. He’s, borrowing from Butchie, seen too much, and simply can’t do this anymore. He’s not a murderer, even though he’s certainly murdered before.

            His scene with Avon works wonderfully for that very reason. We have, in the room, three different people trying to “be a man” and own up to their own flaws (It’s probably why we respect all three so much, even though they have a net body count that’s best left unmeasured). Slim Charles covers for Cutty, understanding the solemnity of what happened in Cutty’s mind, but Cutty refuses to let that happen. He confronts Avon, saying “The game ain’t in me no more,” and says it with a conviction we rarely see from the relatively aloof parolee. It’s Avon, however, who realizes the inherent, um, let’s say “Truth” of what Cutty is saying. He’s not casting judgment, he’s not afraid. Cutty is, to Avon, an inspiration, a “man” who gets out of the game. It’s odd that the show makes us love guys like Avon, Omar, Cutty, but there’s more to men than their job, even more than their worst sins. They’ve all done unspeakable ill, but there’s more to the human comedy than that.

“Just a gangster, I suppose” – Avon Barksdale

Observation and What-Have-You’s

n  SHIIIIIIIIIT! Oh, Larry Whitlock Jr. and your oddly elongated pronunciation of that word. It’s great to see you in your full-on glory.

n  How the Emmys couldn’t nominate Wendell Peirce for his scene dressing down Omar is beyond me. Then again, they only nominated the show twice, because they’re terrible.

n  The hardest part of being a cop, according to McNulty: “explaining to your wife why she needs to take antibiotics for your kidney infection.”

n  McNulty’s other killer one-liner: “What kind of detective would I be if I couldn’t track a white woman in Baltimore?”

n  THIS IS 2004 ALERT: Confessions Part II (because who ever listened to Part I) plays out on the streets of Baltimore

n  Confusing meta-television: Omar is shown watching “Law And Order: SVU.” On that show, Detective Richard Munch is a main character, as he also was on David Simon’s other show “Homicide.” Confusingly, he also makes a cameo appearance on “The Wire,” meaning that Omar is watching a show that has a fictional character who is also a real person in his own universe.

n  War on Terror Reference: Bubbles, wearing an oddly turban-like towel on his head, says its “about to be all Baghdad” in West Baltimore.

n  Thomas Carcetti, politician, watches videos of himself at home. Remember, he’s a politician, and he’s a politician…politician.

n  We get the first glimpse of Snoop in this episode, perhaps the show’s most horrifying character. She’s the little girl standing with Chris Partlow.

n  Fun fact, that probably has no business in this specific recap: Glynn Turman, who plays Mayor Royce, once was married to ARETHA FRANKLIN. Respect, indeed. Even more impressively, he was quite, quite nearly cast as Han Solo, but wasn’t due to the concerns of the interracial relationship he’d have with Princess Leia (which is, obviously, terrible, but such was America at that time). The more you know. 

The Wire: Straight and True (S3:E5)

“But if this everchanging world in which you live in / makes you give in and cry…”  

            If we allow for some odd meta-turning whereby a character of a show were allowed to watch that same show and choose his favorite episode, I think “Straight and True” might be Stringer’s favorite. Stringer, a student of economics, would love just how damned rational everyone is in this episode. Economics tells us that, under the right circumstances, people’s own rational self-interest will maximize utility (actually, it’s reach a Pareto optimal solution, but forget that for now). Important to this is cooperation, the creation of institutions that will benefit all and that all contribute to. It’s why Stringer dreams of creating the New Day Co-op: less violence and more money for all.

            Mr. Bell could not have predicted, however, that one of his biggest restraints, the police, would also act in such a cooperative spirit. They want less crime: Stringer, Bodie et al. want to deal drugs. Therefore, we have Bunny’s officially established territory of “Hamsterdam.” Libertarian paradise, as it is: legal drugs, and free-market competition. It feels odd (I don’t think we’ve seen Johnny as out of sorts as he is here, in spite of the fact that he’s normally on heroin), but it may work. We begin to see its flaws, the unaccounted for occupied homes, but nonetheless its worth a shot to Major Colvin…AS IT SHOULD BE TO THE GOVERNMENT OF THE USA cough cough.

            Jimmy McNulty would probably be a big fan of this episode as well. He gets to sleep with a beautiful woman (“Wait, we have an attractive, straight, smart female character on the political side of things, but we don’t want any romantic entanglements,” asked a hypothetical David Simon. “…Well, something McNulty’s kids something something school meeting something sex”), and gets back on Stringer’s tail (yeah, yeah “tail”). Of course, he only sees Omar meeting with Marlo: he doesn’t see the seeds sown for a new war between the two men. Marlo and Chris Partlow (his right-hand man) are mostly ciphers at this point, but they’re clearly malicious ciphers, and episodes this untragic are usually just prologue to future ones of a different nature.

             But this is a happy episode, so let the rejoicing continue. Bubbles realizes he can “do” better by working with the cops. It’s nice to see him rid himself, at least partially of unlucky Johnny, the character who easily wins the “Holy Crap, he’s not dead” award each time I see him. It’s also nice to see Avon released, given his own apartment, his own car, and generally being more active than in the past. Avon is a great character, much more than the gangster half of the Bell/Barksdale combo, but he needs to roam free to do it. He’s the definition of “street-smart,” calling out the two idiot soldiers for getting high at the club and remaining wary of Clay Davis etc.’s overtures. Welcome home, Avon, but stay weary. As Brianna reminds him, the real stuff comes tomorrow.

“I had such fucking hopes for us” – McNulty

Observation and What-Have-You’s

n  Prop Joe’s fade looks awesome. Stringer Bell’s tuxedo looks foolish. Just sayin.

n  “The Wire” learned something well in the casting department: when in doubt about an intimidating character, always, always opt for facial scars. It worked for Omar, and it sure as shit works for Marlo too.

n  Clay Davis: says “shiiiiiiiiiit” a whole lot less than you remember he does, for better or for worse.

n  The biggest perk of being a drug dealer is that they sure now how to find you women when you get out of prison. First Cutty, now Avon. The great thing about it is that it seems like the scene is going to just highlight Stringer’s detachment from the game…and then the escorts come in.

n  Yes, “Live and Let Die” uses “in” three times in one sentence.

The Wire: Hamsterdam (S3:E4)

“Cause both black and white / are smoking crack tonight”

            “Does race matter” is, all things considered, a pretty foolish question. Of course it matters: the real question is “to what degree?” “The Wire” doesn’t put forward the notion that race is irrelevant, that racism is nonexistent, or anything of the sort. It does, however, seem to support the idea that race is truly skin-deep: it matters for appearance’s sake, but little else. Carcetti can’t be mayor of Baltimore because he’s white, regardless of what policies he puts forward. Daniels is less outward about his relationship with Rhonda, at least in part because of race. Race doesn’t affect the core of their relationship, nor does it shade Carcetti as any different than Royce. But just because it doesn’t matter, doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.

            *(I don’t necessarily buy this viewpoint, by the way. One of the great contrasts between the two shows I’m studying, this and “The Sopranos,” is this very issue. Culture, with its racial elements, traditions, gender roles, etc. is so fundamental to the mechanics of crime on “The Sopranos,” but completely absent here. I don’t think either depiction is “right” or, even worse, “true,” but I do think it’s important to wonder whether or not the cultural expectations of race play a larger role than we see here.)

            However, that doesn’t mean that there still aren’t ingrained traits that define who these people are. Stringer Bell is still Stringer Bell, regardless of who he’s having lunch with. As the show reminds us, he’s still the guy who killed D’Angelo just because (reminded, yet again, by the camera shifting focus from him seducing Donnette to a family picture of D’Angelo. It’s not quite “Mad Men’s” “Your tooth isn’t the only thing that’s rotting, Don” moment, but it sure isn’t subtle). McNulty still shows up drunk on Rhonda’s porch, only another policeman has taken his place indoors (Rhonda may be making better decisions about which police, but still). Cutty will get back in the game, Lester and Prez will follow the paper, Kima and Jimmy will go out on the trail, and that crazy old fox Bunny will keep trying to legalize drugs.

            Speaking of Bunny, we begin to see the pitfalls of his “Hamsterdam” idea. As it turns out, criminals are not easily convinced by cops, especially when they come bearing gifts. The scene in the schoolroom is just great. It shows, for one, that Bunny has almost no control over the grander situation, even if he puts all the drug dealers in one place. As well, it establishes who the foot soldiers in the War on Drugs really are: kids. And not in the Kurt Vonnegut, sending 18 year olds to war sense: I mean actual kids, usually under the age of 16, who learn how to use a gun before they learn to read. It’s great foreshadowing for the next season, probably “The Wire’s” pinnacle.

            This, however, is not that season: it’s the season about fixing what’s already there, not ruining those who are just coming up. Cutty, the most emblematic character of this season, seemingly gives up on his quest to reform himself. It’s difficult finding good work as an ex-con, reminds his particularly bitter yardwork boss, and so Cutty goes out in search of Slim Charles to get back into the life he knows best. And we see why: he’s good at it. He’s can pick out the reasons a guy might not be giving money up to Avon. He also enjoys the perks of, uh, drugs and sex too. It’s an intoxicating life, as the particularly hazy party Bodie hosts demonstrates. There’s a reason people become drug dealers, after all.

“Why you got to go fuck with the program” – Fruit

           

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  Yeah, I really hate the cut to D’Angelo’s picture, sorry about that (it previously happened in Season 2, so the redundancy makes it worse). I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: D’ANGELO WAS IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE WHO WASN’T DONNETTE FOR ALMOST ALL OF SEASON ONE. Stringer is a backstabbing ass, certainly, but seducing D’Angelo’s baby mama isn’t as horrible of a crime as the show seems to make it.

n  I wonder why the Parole Committee wouldn’t call Rhonda about Avon’s parole. It feels like they should do a little more research before letting out a drug kingpin…but that’s just me.

n  The Adventures of Jimmy McNulty, sad Irish alcoholic: we see him piss drunk in 3 different bars this episode, impressive considering it takes place over, at my calculations, 4 workdays.

n  …And I just got that “B&B,” Stringer’s company, stands for “Barksdale and Bell.” I should probably work on my observation skills.

The Wire: Dead Soldiers (S3:E3)

“We turned and shook as we had a look / In the room where the dead men lay”

            Has there ever been a show that lets protagonists be as fundamentally wrong as “The Wire”? I’m not talking about letting their characters do evil things: “The Sopranos” and “Breaking Bad” are much more concerned with the idea of “evil” than “The Wire” ever will be. Nor am I talking about the obvious heels in the department, guys like Herc who are designed that way. I’m talking about McNulty, the closest thing the show has to a lead character, and his dissatisfaction with the shift in Major Crimes’ focus. The show is indicating, convincingly, that Bell and Prop Joe’s reign as kingpins is a peaceful one, a best-case of the worst-cases (searching for the least of all evils is a common thread in this, the most obviously anti-War-on-Drugs season of the show). McNulty, and even Greggs, however, want “real” policework, which means targeting the best criminals, and letting the more harmful ones go about their business. It’s wrongheaded, but it’s true to the characters, which makes it all the more impressive.

            Even myths make mistakes, and Omar makes one of his biggest ones in this episode. He goes after another Barksdale target, knowing it’s a dangerous one, and forgets to mind the guards out back (the episode already demonstrated that he knew where the guards were). And he would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for Dante shooting blindly behind him, taking out Tosha. It’s a great, harrowing sequence, more reminiscent of a way movie than anything else (David Simon notes that the season is supposed to function largely as a allegory for the War on Terror. I don’t know how true that is, but the scene surely feels like something out of “Black Hawk Down” or another modern war film, from the shaky camerawork to the closeups on Omar and Kimmy). It requires a little bit more suspension of disbelief than most scenes, but Omar always has played that sort of role in the drama of the show. It also gives Omar something to do for the rest of the season, presumably, and that is always a welcome thing. Any episode that closes on an ominous shot of Michael K. Williams’ face in smoke ought to leave you wanting more.

            Meanwhile, Bunny Colvin’s long-run plan takes more of a shape in this episode. “I was thinking I might legalize drugs,” he quips after being dressed down for handing in clean statistics, but it becomes less of a joke and more of a mission statement as the episode progresses. Lieutenant Not Jay Landsman but Jay Landsman (the character is named Dennis Mello, but he’s actually played by the real-life Jay Landsman, hence the lengthy sobriquet I will refer to him by) stands by skeptically, and even offers jokes to help with the district rank-and-file, but it becomes clear that Colvin is going to do something radical. Do I buy it, you ask? Difficult to say: it’s not something that seems like it could happen, but the show takes pains to bring us to this point, starting from last season. I like it, however, even as hypothetical, because it allows the writing staff to examine what would happen if their solution (its presumptuous, but also correct) to the war on drugs were to be implemented.

            Of course, the real problem is that it would take a politician to implement a solution like this, and judging from the machinations of this episode, they’re all a little too concerned with reelection (unlike, say, a retiring policeman) to take such a risk. Carcetti is fighting something vaguely similar to the good fight, or at the very least an okay fight, but he only does it by leaking info to the press about the suspended academy class. Royce even does something vaguely moral, standing by Burrell, although his view of loyalty seems to be more of a well-evolved trick of the trade instead of an intrinsic belief. Of course, they’re both still scumbags in their way: Royce forces Burrell to fall on a sword he’s already fallen on with the suspended class, and Carcetti cheats on his loyal wife (and yes, we get it, hes  narcissistic. We don’t need to see him getting off to his own reflection). The streets may be rough, but I’ll be damned if the political scene isn’t…oh you know where that cliché is going.

“The gods will not save you” – Burrell.

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  I wish I had mentioned the wake scene above (although I cheated a bit by quoting the Pogues song as the epigraph), but its absolutely splendid. Among many great traits, it shows just how Irish’d the policeforce is, an idea that is clearly a relic in predominantly Black Baltimore, but is passed down in both the songs and alcohol we see men like McNulty, Bunk, Landsman and Freamon enjoy. It’s an interesting type of cultural inheritance, and like all good Irish celebrations, also laden with clear signs of alcoholism.

n  The wake is also perhaps the most meta-moment on a show that usually stays away from such commentary. Det. Cole was played by Robert F. Colesberry, the executive producer of “The Wire” who died soon after branching out into direction with the fantastic finale of Season 2. Jay Landsman’s (the real fake one) speech is laden with references to his actual work in Hollywood (Mississippi Burning is an “Mississippi arson extradition case,” “After Hours” is references as well).

n  One of the most impressive thing about “The Wire” is how well they cast seemingly minor characters. The kids imitating Omar Little, for example, recur later with the same actors, and that sort of continuity really give “The Wire” a novelistic feel, at the risk of heading back into cliché.

n  Also, the wealth of the writing staff reaches absurdity here, with Dennis Lehane, Boston-novelist extraordinaire writing his first episode. He’s most famous for Shutter Island and two other books made into Academy Award-nominated films (“Mystic River” and “Gone Baby Gone,” the latter of which was nominated for Amy Ryan’s unbelievable turn as the world’s worst mom. Ms. Ryan, of course, plays Beadie Russell on “The Wire,” and the world keeps on spinning).

The Wire: All Due Respect (S3:E2)

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The Wire: Time After Time (S3:E1)

“Don’t it always seem to go / That you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone”

            And like that, they’re gone. The Towers, that is, and with it, a new era opens for the Barksdale Organization. Like all seasons of “The Wire,” there is a ton going on here (it would be unfair to characterize Season 2 as just being about “industrial decay,” instead of being about “familial bonds,” or whatever else you could come up with), but this season seems more to be heavily invested in connecting the past with the future, looking at what changes, and what doesn’t, in a city like Baltimore.

            The cold open, by the way, is a thing of beauty, even by “The Wire’s” lofty standards. Bodie and Poot ranting about the good times (Poot, at the old age of 17, reminisces about losing his virginity in the Towers), as Mayor Royce celebrates the collapse of the Towers. Is it a little unbelievable that no one would have heard about this project beforehand? Probably, but it’s worth it for the moment where the applause for The Tower’s destruction is cut short by the dust from the explosion. In a quite literal sense, Mayor Royce chokes on his own words. It’s on point, but it sets up the season like gangbusters.

            As with the show itself, the first few reviews of the season have to do a bit of housekeeping to set up the show’s plot. Something something “the show’s an investment” something “tablesetting.” Therefore, we’re introduced to a few vital players in this episode, too, so it’s important to understand where they’re coming from. We met Bunny Colvin briefly in Season Two, and he spends most of this episode just looking pissed at the inadequacy of the police’s efforts. Once you see where he’s going, the buildup is worth it (I love his storyline, but my impression is that it’s a divisive one), but for now he’s just the old Major who’s got nothing to lose when he retires. Tommy Carcetti (you may know him best as the CIA agent who is the victim of Bane’s violence and shitty one-liners in the opening scene of “The Dark Knight Rises”) is an upstart politician, and a deft one at that, maneuvering Burrell into a PR fiasco over Baltimore’s crime escalation. In essence, this is merely a warning: keep an eye on them. Both are forward-looking leaders who are trying to do right, although their actions could probably not be more dissimilar this season

            The last character, Dennis “Cutty” Wise, is the one who struck me the most on the rewatch of this episode. For a season that largely ignores the events of the past one to return us, functionally, to the status quo of Season One, introducing Cutty into the mix works wonders to keep us off our game. The viewer really is as out of place in Baltimore as Cutty is after 15 years, and his random wandering and nervous nature shows us that, even in the time we spent on the docks (a time that comes up, but rarely, as the show progresses), things have changed. 

            Of course, this isn’t just a show that looks to set up plotlines. It’s establishing its messages, slowly but surely, and I think Daniels collapsed relationship with his wife shows that as well as any. His marriage is no longer the shell it once was: it's now fully gone, at best keeping up appearances. Baltimore is a wreck, too, in almost every way: how it can pick up the pieces and change is now the more important topic of discussion. (Note: I had some trouble with Blogger the last week, so apologies on A. The unfinished nature of this post originally, and B. The lack of updates. I will try to do better as well)

"Don't matter how many times you get burnt, you just keep doin' the same" -- Bodie

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  New season, new version of “Down in the Hole,” and unfortunately, I think this is the worst one the show would ever do. It’s flashy, which is sort of the point for this political season, but it just sounds…soulless? It’s certainly the most different, but unlike with most of the risks the show takes, playing it safe might have been a better call.

n  Also, I’m reformatting the way I’ll handle epigraphs for the season. I still sort of like the dual epigraph format, but I’m going to try and use song lyrics to open up the reviews, with the episode’s actual epigraph closing out the episode.

n  Herc, Carver, and (shockingly) Omar are finally billed in the opening credits. Although that sounds ridiculous, seeing how many actors are listed as starring explains why it is so difficult.