Sunday, March 09, 2008

The Wire: David Simon Q & A

This interview with “The Wire” creator David Simon was conducted over two different days shortly before the 9th episode of the final season aired. (But after I had already seen the series finale.) We discuss several characters’ final fates in detail, so if you haven’t already seen “-30-,” what are you doing reading this? (Also, if you're looking for my review, click here.)

Because the interview was conducted in pieces and we bounced back and forth between topics, I’ve deleted certain sections that were redundant and moved others around so that, for instance, all the discussion of the Baltimore Sun storyline is together. I haven’t given this the full Templeton, though; all the answers are exactly as Simon gave them, and if I have to rephrase a question here for continuity’s sake (say, because it originally involved a transition between two topics that are no longer back-to-back in this version), I’ll put it in parentheses.

Also, since this is long -- David indulged me with a lot of time, and as you should realize by now, the man is not short on opinions or the words with which to express them -- I'll also try to put up subject headers where possible so if, say, you're more interested in discussion of the characters instead of the problems the show is about, you can do so. And if it's still too long for you to read, I'll have an abbreviated version up first thing tomorrow morning, duplicating what will be in The Star-Ledger.

SYMBOLISM (and my inability to find out about it)

I’ll start with the obvious one. The show's ending, this is your last chance to do this: What the hell do the train tracks mean? (NOTE: Simon has in the past expressed surprise that no critic has ever correctly interpreted the symbolism of why McNulty and Bunk’s drunken bull sessions usually take place beside train tracks.)

No shot. You're not getting it out of me.

Oh, come on!

To talk about symbolism, if people get it, they get it. if they don't, telling it to them ruins it. You know that.

You're talking to the man who couldn't get David Chase to explain the Sopranos finale.

Well, I totally agree with David Chase. He's got that right. If you like it, you like it. My sister was an abstract painter. If you asked her what the painting was of, she would look at you and say, “It's whatever you think it's of.”

(A day later, I try to slip this one in) This is one about themes but also because I make the damn typo six, seven times each week: Marlo and Omar L. as anagrams. Intentional? Accidental?

Now you're getting into symbolism again. You've got to let people argue about something. It's not fair if I explain everything.

THE BALTIMORE SUN / GOOD GUYS AND BAD GUYS

What else did we miss, besides the train tracks?

What do you think the main thing that happens in the newspaper story? What is the most dramatic consequence depicted? I'm going Socratic on your Jersey ass.

They're covering a story that doesn't exist and they're devoting all their resources to it.

Ehh! Try again.

They're demoting the one guy in the newsroom who knows what he's doing?

(Disappointed sigh) Oh, Alan, Alan, Alan. “The Wire” is always about subtext. What isn't happening?

They're not writing about the stuff that matters.

Ding ding ding! We know that they mayor is cooking the stats so he can become governor. We know that he's taking apart the Marlo task force. We know that he's backing No Child Left Behind, and hyping a dubious gain in the 3rd grade test scores though the schools remain an unmitigated disaster. We know that these politically charged prosecutions of Clay Davis are being undercut behind the scenes by a variety of conflicting interests, that there's turf wars that result in complete lapses of any anti-corruption effort. We know that Prop Joe is the biggest drug dealer in the city with the main connect, and when he's killed, it's a brief. We know who Omar is -- and, listen, you'd need a really good police reporter to write a story about Omar, but it could happen, but it certainly isn't going to happen at that paper.

The main theme is not the fabulist and what he is perpetrating. That's the overt plot. The main theme is that, with the exception of the bookends -- at the beginning, the excellent effort at adversarial journalism that begins the piece in episode one and the genuine piece of narrative journalism that concludes it, with Bubbles -- it's a newspaper that is so eviscerated, so worn, so devoid of veterans, so consumed by the wrong things, and so denied the ability to replenish itself that it singularly misses every single story in the season.

What I'm loving, it makes me warm all over, is that a lot of the obsession of journalists in the evaluating -- I think (Brian) Lowry mentioned it, you mentioned, a couple of others mentioned it as being fundamental to the story -- (isn't that theme) but whether Whiting is as big an asshole as Valchek, “Is Gus more of a hero than Colvin?," “Do they have to put suspenders on that guy?,” “I can't believe any editor would say that,” “Why would Alma drive all the way over there?” I'm loving it. It's this onanistic, self-obsessed world of journalism -- which is the problem. In their heart of hearts, the guys who are running my newspaper and a lot of newspapers, they now cede the territory, the moral and essential territory, of whether we're asserting for our society, our city, our community.

This was a story about a newspaper that now -- on some fundamental basis -- fails to cover its city substantively, and guess what -- between out-of-town ownership, carpetbagging editors, the emphasis on impact journalism or Prize-culture journalism and, of course, the economic preamble that is the arrival of the internet and the resulting loss of revenue and staff, there are a fuck of a lot of newspapers that are failing to cover their cities substantively. That is the last piece in the Wire puzzle: If you think anyone will be paying attention to anything you encountered in the first four seasons of this show, think again.

(We get sidetracked by something unrelated, and then Simon continues…)

If you would allow politicians and school administrators and police officials and union leaders to blog and to write, you would be pilloried every season. And maybe we deserve to be. Because you know what? We're a television drama. Life is anti-drama. On some level, all we are is storytellers. We believe in our stories, we believe they have resonance and meaning. We did it for four years, and in each of the four years, our allegiances were with middle management and with labor, and they always are. The Valcheks and Rawls of the world are the Whitings and Klebanows of the world are the Royces and Clay Davises of the world. That's how we do.

The film template in my head -- the dramatic template were the Greek plays -- is what I regard as the most important political film of the 20th century, which is “Paths of Glory.” If anyone wants to look at “Paths of Glory” and think it doesn't speak to the essential triumph of institutions over individuals and doesn't speak to the fundamental inhumanity of the 20th century and beyond, then they weren't watching the same film as the rest of us. That film is essential, and as meaningful today as the day it was made. If you look at George Macready and Adolph Menjou, I believe you have Rawls and Valchek.

One of the great overstatements was always made about "The Wire" is "There's no good guys or bad guys." I was always amazed by that. Marlo's not a bad guy? Do characters acquire a bit of nuance as you live with them longer? Of course. The more time you live with them on screen, the more chance you have to add nuance. And I know I said good and evil bored me, but the notion that all characters are treated equally is sort of a misunderstanding of point of view.

It doesn't matter whether Adolph Menjou and George Macready show you their warm fuzzy side and assert that they have puppies at home. They serve their role in the story. That story, the point of view is with Kirk Douglas, and it is the point of view of middle management. Always in storytelling, choices are made about what is the center of a picture and what is the frame. Every season of "The Wire," that choice is made. I've been amused by the notion that the editors are any more venal than anybody else who has been in command of an institution on The Wire.

And we've both worked with guys like Templeton at certain points in our careers.

I've had three people at the Sun make up stuff. The one that is obviously Templeton -- I'm not saying Templeton is any of those guys, but I am saying one of them had a severe case of it, and a couple of other guys who made up the most marginal, inconsequential things. It was almost like a cry for help; it was heartbreaking. One of them was fired, one was chastised but not fired because his wife was an (editor). And the third one was protected and had his stuff, even after the scandal, submitted for a Pulitzer. I think the vast majority of reporters are utterly conscientious, but if you're suggesting to me that all these guys -- Kelley, Blair, Bragg, Cooke, the guys in Boston who got fired, the guy in Baltimore -- everyone I know who's worked in journalism 6, 8, 10 years at a major paper knows a guy like this, and it is the great unspoken thing. To discuss it openly in journalism as if it's a commonality is to be the guy who farted on a crowded elevator. What else can I say? I can't put it more poignantly than that.

Even Gus, who's been accused of being too perfect, misses a lot of things.

Yeah. He knew Ricardo Hendrix but he didn't know Prop Joe, Prop Joe was quieter about a lot of things. Part of that is a testament to Joe and how Joe did business, but part of it is you don't have Twigg around anymore, and when a murder comes in, it's a twentysomething who's doing the best job she can, and she's conscientious, but you bought out your veteran.

As far as the fabricator goes, I don't think that needs any defense for including. I saw Tim Franklin, who's the editor of the Baltimore Sun -- I have absolutely nothing against him, I think he's a good guy presiding over a horrible moment in terms of the paper's history in terms of these cutbacks and buyouts, but I've had lunch with the guy, he's a nice guy -- and at one point, he said he thought the usage of this was a cliche. I thought it was an awful word. Something's only a cliche if it keeps happening over and over. I guess in that sense, it's a cliche all right, and it's a little wearying.

But you know what? Last poll I saw, 60 percent of Americans believe there are reporters who routinely make stuff up. I don't believe there are many of them, but I believe there are enough that there's a reason 60 percent of Americans believe that. And as the pond shrinks and as people's ambitions are more and more dependent on the strength of their resumes, some people with less conscience than others are going to go down that road. And man, the pond is shrinking. Today, it was the LA Daily News I heard about.

The other thing I would say is that it sounds as if the journalists en masse have been pounding on the show, and that's not really true. Most of our reviews from the TV guys have been really strong. The exceptions were Baltimore, tellingly, and LA, where John Carroll was. But off the entertainment pages, I just did a viewing at NCTA the night before last in Washington that was attended solely by journalists. The rank and file, the same thing happened that always happens: the bosses say, "That's not our police department," and the sergeants and detectives and uniforms, they seem to be loving it for the most part. I don't know if that's your experience. And people who don't like it aren't going to send me an e-mail saying I think you're full of shit. But my e-mailbox has been full of, not only old Sun veterans, but some names of people in journalism that anybody would recognize saying, "This is the nightmare I feel like I'm living." And I got a lot of those.

A SHORT SEASON, AND SEQUELS AND PREQUELS (or the lack thereof)

Are you satisfied with how the final season came together? Is there anything that didn't live up to your expectations now that the product is finished?

No. I'm satisfied with all my films. Does that mean it's a perfect film? No. Films are always abandoned, they're never finished, you do the best you can, there are parameters of time and space and budget and personnel that require certain priorities. Would I have done some things over differently? Sure.

In terms of priorities, how was the storytelling different, did any stories have to be abandoned when it wound up being a 10-episode season as opposed to 12 or 13?

The main stories were told exactly as they would have been. By the way, I was given 10 and a half. When I realized I needed more than 10, they asked if I wanted 11, and I said, "No, I need 10 and a half." If I said I needed 12 halfway through the season, from Carolyn (Strauss) at that point, I could have gotten it. They came to me early on, I asked for an extra episode, a 13th, for season four, because we had to add some elements of the political spin-off that didn't get made, so we had to deal with the election and the schools in one season. So I asked for 13, and they gave it to me, and then when we came back for the last season, they said, "School story's over, election's over, you have this one remaining theme, can you do it in less?" And I said, "I think I probably can."

But it was an open question. They said, "Can you do it in 8?" I said, "No fucking way." They said, "How many do you need?" I said, "I don't know. Maybe 10. Maybe 11." So they said, "Okay, beat it out, see what you need." I told them 10 after I beat it out with Ed -- and, by the way, this is also in a year when they're giving me 7 hours of "Generation Kill," so they're not being parsimonious -- and then as we started making it and got towards the end, I realized I might need more story and I said, "Can I go to 10 and a half? Can I do a 90-minute episode if I have to?" And they said, "Sure. Tell us which one you need." At that point, I'm one hour away.

If they gave me 12, and said you have to take 12, then the truth is, certain storylines that were branches on the three that couldn't be serviced in 10, like Prez and Cutty would have had storylines. The main storylines would have had no more or no less work done on them. We said what we wanted to say on them. We would have had more time to service characters who at that point had become peripheral but were favorites of the writers. But at the same time, we talked about it, the writers, and we realized Prez has reached his stasis, as has Cutty. What redemption there has been for them has been achieved, and that's where we want to leave them anyway, so all we're doing there is gilding the story a little bit. A decision was made that that's not really what needs to happen here with the story.

But the truth is, if I'd have gone to Carolyn and said ‘Look, I'm too tight,' then she would've fixed it. She would've helped me fix it. And in fact when I did go to her and said, 'I'm too tight. I may need 11, I may need 10 and a half,' it was like, 'Do what you gotta do.'

Were there stories, more over the run of the series than this season, that you wanted to tell about certain characters that you never got to?

Baltimore's a big world, as any city is. The thing is very much a picture in a frame. At any given moment, regardless of where you focus and regardless of what your intentions are directed to, there are things on the fringes of the frame at the boundaries of the story that could be stories themselves. But at a certain point, the thematic intention and content of the show starts to feel redundant. We made our point about where we think urban America finds itself and why, and to continually demonstrate that point by pursuing additional characters or additional arguments using other institutions becomes artistically redundant.You can always make more characters, you can always make more story.

I was talking more about more stories with these particular characters. There's clearly, at least based on the last names and the bios on the HBO website, a connection between Randy and Cheese (NOTE: the bios essentially state that Cheese is Randy’s dad, a fact Simon would publicly confirm a few days after we spoke), and that's something you never really got into on the show.

Actually, that is something that we were going to play a little bit of that and reference that in season five if we had had a little bit more room. But ultimately it would have been incremental. It would not have added to the overall theme or to either of those characterizations of Cheese or Randy. It would not have resolved in any unique way that would have revealed anything more about the character than we otherwise revealed. It would have just been more story and more scenes. So at a certain point, on a practical basis, you have to ask what you're accomplishing if you go further.

Did we lay other groundwork? We did. We could have cannibalized Rawls' moment in the gay bar and advanced that moment, but I'm not sure we would have created any more theme, and on some level it was very satisfying just to grant the notion of a closeted gay man's sexuality a moment on screen and then move on. There was something very compelling and real about just acknowledging that but not making it into grist for a storyline that didn't add anything to our portrayal of Rawls. We were always laying pipe that could be picked up later. It doesn't mean that you should pick it up.

So it sounds like you're done with this, like there are no plans for books or movies or other continuations of this world in your future.

I would never say never, but I don't have a story idea for a movie. I think the thing doesn't lend itself easily to a movie. Some of the actors have come to me and expressed a desire, and have gone out of their way to try to get funding for it. While I think that's heroic and dedicated, I would have to hear a story that warranted potential return. I have no interest in doing it just to do it, and I don't have a story. Job one is the story. I've got nothing in the tank.

I think a prequel is problematic in terms of the age of our cast at this point. Not that they've done anything but age gracefully, but we are about 6-7 years down the road from when we all started doing this project. We've really genuinely ended the stories where we wanted them to end. I'm not sure a sequel is practical for other reasons. I certainly admired the effort and intention of some of the cast members to figure out a way to proceed. I just got nothing on it right now.

ENDINGS

You gave everyone their endings, but is there a part of you that, as you were writing these endings, was thinking about what comes next? How does McNulty deal with life as a civilian? What is Marlo going to do given that he's risking prosecution if he's back on a corner again, etc.?

I don't think we were making anything certain by that moment with Marlo’s return to the corner. I think we were speaking to a hole in the center of his soul that has to do with who he believes he is and was and what is now being denied to him by events. Going up to the corner and basically asserting for your standing and your manhood, I don't know if that's the return to the corner to which Pearlman was referring.

But it's kind of a parallel thing: what does Marlo do with his life if he's not on a corner, and what does Jimmy do with his life if he doesn't have a badge?

Obviously, that was the intent of those scenes: it was two men without their respective countries and tribes, and what do they do? Don't you think that's a good question to leave with viewers? I'm not sure I want that question answered definitively. I have my opinions, but you'll never get them out of me. I think that's a good argument to have if anyone feels like having it.

(Another digression about another critic wishing he could have watched Cheese's death scene in a crowded movie theater filled with enthusiastic "Wire" fans leads to...) How did you decide that Cheese would take a bullet to the head, where Chris and Marlo are more okay to varying degrees?

Well, Chris is in jail for the rest of his life and Marlo is cut off from the source of his power, desperate to rescue his name. To me, the great irony is that Marlo ends up being granted what Stringer wanted -- and he has no use for it. To me, to a guy like Marlo Stanfield, hell is a business meeting with a bunch of developers. For Stringer, it was all he wanted.

Why does Cheese take it? It was a betrayal too far and Slim had some feeling for one of his old bosses. We weren't trying to gratify anybody more than the moment would allow, but it seemed like that was a forced move if you're Slim Charles.

By the way, I thought Method Man played the hell out of that scene. I should say something, because there's always been this crowd of rappers who wanted to be on The Wire, and this was the only guy who walked into a casting office and read and said, 'Okay, tell me about the part.' We didn't take him because he was Method, we took him because he was the best read for Cheese. I'm glad we did.

The last couple of episodes have a couple of moments like that. There have been these people who refuse to accept that Jamie Hector is a really good actor and is not just playing himself or being stiff, and then he gives the 'My name is my name' speech, and you realize this is what he's been holding in all this time.

It's been a singular act of gorgeous restraint to play Marlo Stanfield. The film we found him in, we found him in a short film by Seith Mann, and that's how we found Seith Mann, called "Five Deep Breaths." Bob (Colesberry) noticed him right away, noticed the direction and Jamie as the lead, and he's the presumptive hero of that piece, the kid with heart and the kid with a conscience and we cast him as Marlo Stanfield! Right away we knew his range. It wasn't a surprise to us. We knew what he could do. But part of that character required a willful restraint, and the only place where it made sense for him to lose control was in that precise moment.

It's interesting, that moment when he does go to the corner -- for most of the series, people have been assuming a lot of his power comes from Chris and Snoop around him as the muscle -- and you see that, no, all this time, he's been perfectly capable of handling himself. He's just chosen to delegate it to other people.

Most of the guys who survive to get to Marlo's level, they come complete with their reputations. They did stuff on the street to get to the point where people would surround them. First you have to earn it, and after you've earned it, then comes the posse.

How far in advance were all of these various endings planned? When you introduced Sydnor, did you know that he would one day replace McNulty? With the kids, did you know all along that one of them would become Omar and one would become Bubbles?

We knew it would be cyclical. We knew that the ultimate star of the narrative was Baltimore, and by extension the American city, and by extension America. Whether it was going to be Greggs or Sydnor who walked into the judge's office was still something we were arguing about in season four and at the beginning of season five. Whether it was going to be Randy or Dukie who followed Bubbles down that path was an early debate, which of the four would have which outcomes. It became apparent in the start of season four as we started to talk through the characters. But we knew someone was following Bubbles and somebody was following Omar and someone was following McNulty, and ultimately the cyclical manner of the institutional prerogative was going to be asserted.

We knew where we were going; there's always an argument to be had in the writers room, and the arguments are the fun of it, in a way. The aggravation and the nightmare while we're having them, it sucks, but it's what makes it better.

I think if you had asked people a season, two seasons ago, they would have said that Kima would definitely be McNulty, but watching the way it played out, I thought it worked well, and I'm reminded of way back when when she got shot and refused to ID Wee-Bey, because she has to do things straight.

At a certain point, while she emulated McNulty in her willingness at points to lose herself in the job and to be indifferent if not oblivious to the psychic costs on her personal life, at the critical moment where she was presented with a fundamental choice, she made one based on who she was.

Getting back to the endings of the characters, were there any people whose final fates in the show you wound up softening or making tougher than originally intended, whether out of affection for the character or something else?

No. The guys who had a good ending earned it. Some of the guys who had a bad ending didn't earn it. And that just sucks.

Clay gets away with everything, Rawls is made head of the state cops...

(laughing) How could Clay not get away with everything?

Of course. A show where Clay went to jail would be betraying everything you've been saying for five seasons.

Here's where I softened it slightly: I didn't have Clay raising his arms in victory at the end with Carcetti on the stage. I didn't put him in background on the slimmest basis, which is he's kind of a backroom guy. He doesn't need to be on the stage. He'll get his later. I softened it that way, big softie that I am. I'm a giver, Alan. I give and I give and I give.

CURTAIN CALLS, DARK STORYTELLING AND OTHER BARRIERS TO MASS SUCCESS

You brought back almost every surviving character in the history of the show. Ziggy, Brother Mouzone, Horseface, maybe one or two others didn't come back. Was there anybody this season you wanted to bring back but just couldn't get it to work, either because of actor availability or because there was no way to fit into the story?

I didn't think those cameos were gratuitous. I thought they were each saying something about this world going on and where people end. We weren't putting them in to reprise moments but to advance moments. If we had a character we couldn't advance in any credible way -- like, for example, there was no point in advancing Ziggy. With Randy, there were open questions about what it meant to be in that group home. In a single scene, you could put the coda on that story. I'm not sure you need a coda on Ziggy. The end of season two with him in that prison uniform in that line of guys was the coda.

Who didn't come back? Mouzone didn't need a coda, he was a force of nature. If we needed it, if it added it to the film, we banged the last nail in, and if we didn't need it, we didn't pick up the hammer.

It was funny -- and again, it comes down to one of those things where people want the show to be something it isn't -- how throughout the Omar storyline, people kept saying, "Why doesn't he just call Brother Mouzone and have Mouzone come down and help him?"

It's a Greek tragedy, and everyone's trying to think Antigone or Medea or Oedipus out of the box. Which is understandable. When you go see those plays performed, if they're done well, you know the ending with absolute certainty -- and yet you can't help but think somewhere in act two that the fates are not the fates. And, listen, American entertainment does nothing but sell redemption and easy victories 24-7.

I'm not saying that "The Wire's" unique in that respect -- there's a lot of other high-end television that is dark and continues to be dark -- but I agree with Chase in one respect. I read an interview with him where he said what American television gets wrong relentlessly is that life is really tragic. Not a lot of people want to tune their living room box to that channel. It's an escapist form. There are people who are willing to look at it for something else. It's not a mass audience, but possibly some portion of that mass audience finds its way to something else, and then they expect to be treated as they've always been treated. There's nothing the writers can do about that, other than twist themselves into hacks trying to please people with what they want. What are you gonna do? We weren't doing it to be mean, we were doing it cause this is the story we cared about.

Do you think the fact you're telling stories in different ways than is traditional, and it has this darkness to it, was that the big barrier to the show becoming more popular than it was? Would you say it was the racial makeup of the cast?

There were a lot of barriers. The racial makeup of the cast was problematic and we knew that going in. The complexity of the serial itself -- the fact that you couldn't miss a couple of episodes and feel comfortable watching it. Though I think that HBO was a wonderful vehicle for that with the multiple viewings, the DVDs and ultimately with On Demand. It was less of a problem as the show went on.

It was also less of a problem as people who watched the show got used to its rhythms. The first season was on some level training the audience to watch television a little bit differently, and reducing the expectations in terms of pacing, in terms of cliffhangers, in terms of the requirement to absorb detail or even to look for symbolism. Those were problems.

The other problem is, no easy gratifications, other than some real effort at careful characterization and humor. That was it. Without the humor, it would have been unbearable. Without an acknowledgement of the humanity of the characters, despite all their flaws, their vanities, their absurdities -- if on some level, you can't make people care about the characters, you've got a problem no matter what you're doing. We had some obligations to people if they wanted to watch, but a happy ending was not among the list of obligations.

There were small happy endings throughout the series. They were rare, but they did happen. When I was rewatching "Late Editions" to work on my blog entry of it, when Namond shows up at the debate, I swear to God I'm not sure I've ever been as emotionally affected by the show as that -- just from knowing what had happened to the other three boys.

But it was earned. And nothing is more earned in the history of a happy ending than Bubbles, at least in this medium. We laid the groundwork for that, and we tried to bring him to a point where he's standing up at that meeting or going up the steps felt like it was entirely earned. There are a lot of cheap victories in TV. When we had a victory, we really relished it. I think The Wire is affirming of people's basic humanity, and an argument that even though it may be futile to rebel, it's the only alternative if you want to salvage anything that remotely resembles human dignity. I'm butchering Camus there, but somewhere in there is a quote that I'm stealing -- or trying to.

Some people have called it a cynical show. I don't know that I would agree. I doubt you would.

I think it's a misuse of the word "cynical." I think it's a dark show. I think it has a great deal of sentiment to it. I just don't think it's sentimental. I think it's intensely political. I think if you want to suggest that it's cynical about institutions and their capacity to reform themselves or be reformed, I would have to plead guilty to that. The only thing I would cite is to say that, given where we're at as a culture right now, cynicism therefore becomes another word for "pragmatically realistic."

I don't think it's cynical about human beings. I think that's why viewers were so committed and loyal, because the human beings that were traversing this rigged game were entirely worth the time spent following them.

OMAR, KENARD & OTHER LONG-TERM PLANS

Was Omar originally going to die in the shoot-out with Wee-Bey in season one, or is that an urban legend?

It's an urban legend. It came from some early interviews that Michael (K. Williams) did. I've never corrected him, because he wasn't saying it (out of bad intentions). I think he got a little confused in this regard: In the first season we told him he's only doing seven episodes. That's as many as we needed. We said, it was seven and we didn't know if there was work to be had next year, because we didn't know if we'd be renewed. And I think he took that to believe he was going to be killed after seven.

If the show continued, Omar was going to return. No, he was not going to die in that shoot-out. There was nothing to suggest that we didn't have some fundamental plan for him. Nor did we write more to the character because of how well Michael played him. Omar was going to have to exist for narrative purposes throughout. Did we write the lines a little differently? Did we enjoy a moment or two that Michael could give us that another actor couldn't? Absolutely. That's what you do. that's the biofeedback that goes on when the dailies come back and you see what you have. The idea that he was going to be killed off and he marched his way back in the show, I think he just misunderstood when we told him, 'You only have seven this year.'

So when you introduced Kenard in season three when they're playing outside the stash house shoot-out, even back then you were planning, "Okay, this little kid is going to kill Omar a few seasons from now"?

With one caveat. We did introduce him, and I had it in my mind that I wanted a moment like "The Shootist" or the buried moment in the gunfight at the end of "Wild Bunch." The character that was most in the Western archetype -- and George had a lot of fun with this -- was Omar. The inner city is now the Wild West, the new frontier in terms of American storytelling, it has been for several decades now. We played a lot of our Western film themes and archetypes through Omar's story. I always had that in my mind. There were arguments to be had in the writers room -- there were guys who didn't want to kill Omar, there were some guys who did, some guys who didn't but came around. Everyone gets a say when you argue it down on the merits. I definitely wanted to plant the beginnings of that story if we wanted to go that way.

We took the best kids for that part, but at that point, these actors are so young and there's no guaranteeing that they'll stay either in the business or that when they age out they're going to be able to handle more dialogue and if they're going to have the chops to get there. If it didn't work out, it was going to be another kid. As it turned out, Thuliso turned out to be a pretty good kid actor, and he got better and better as he aged into the role. And so it became a practical opportunity. But sometimes you bury something like that and it just doesn't work and you go another way.

Where there other instances of you planting things very early on that would pay off much later, like that Kenard scene in season three?

We knew that if we got a long enough run, all three of the chess players would be out of the game, so to speak. Prison or dead. We did not chart all of their fates to a specific outcome, but we knew that the Pit crew would be subject to an exacting attrition.

We knew, for example, that when Carcetti declares that he wants no more stat games in his new administration that the arc would end with his subordinates going into Daniels' office and demanding yet another stat game. Or that McNulty would end up on the pool table felt like Cole, albeit quitting rather than dead. Or that Carver's long arc toward maturity and leadership would begin with him making rank under ugly pretenses and then being lectured by Daniels about what you can and can't live with. (It's at that point that Carver slowly begins to change, not merely when he encounters Colvin's integrity.) We knew that the FBI file that Burrell would not be put into play in season one would eventually be used to deny Daniels the prize.

Is it true that Donnie (Andrews, the inspiration for Omar) in real life jumped off a balcony the same height that Omar did?

Actually, two floors higher.

Two floors higher?

The Murphy Homes. He also jumped off the rail bridge at Poplar Grove, onto the rail bed. That was probably about three stories. And he hurt his ankle. It's just true. Those jumps, by an athletic person, can actually be made and are made, routinely. By a non-athletic person? if I made it, I'd be all over the pavement and they'd pick me up with a spoon. If you made it, they'd pick you up with a spoon. When 28-year-old Donnie Andrews makes that jump because he has to, sometimes he makes it. It's funny: I'm doing this thing now with recon Marines, "Generation Kill." And some of them had no problem with the jump. They just started telling stories about recon training. I don't know whether to believe them or not, but I do believe Donnie.

It was a story I actually used, I wrote about the first time back in 1990. That story was all through the ghetto: "They had him cornered, and motherfucker jumped off the railroad bridge and kept running. Did not want to die that day." But we did want it to feel a little bit mythic, and "What the fuck?" because it fit with the general arc of Greek tragedy.

Do you think that, much like the humor, the larger-than-life aspect of Omar and the things he does, helps make the more brutal moments on the show bearable?

Yes. There is a desire to lean towards the heroic and to hope for the highest aspirations human beings can have, for what they might achieve as heroes. That's in all of us. It's why people have had such a problem with McNulty this year. He's the center of the show, and he's been the shit-stirrer, and we've shown you his faults and we've shown you his rage and his arrogance and his self-destructiveness and the way in which alcohol, for him, acts as a trigger. We spent four years giving you all the evidence for why he'd be driven to something as confrontational and as outrageous as season five. And yet, for all we've shown you, the fact that he's trying to do something that society would regard as heroic at least in its intent -- catch a brutal, murdering drug trafficker -- when he fails you as a person and as a hero, there's a great deal of fury that goes along with that.

I remember -- and this was on a much smaller scale -- when I was a kid, couldn't have been more than 10, I saw "Bridge on the River Kwai" on TV, and I finally realized that Bill Holden really didn't want to go back. He did not want to go back to that bridge, and he was fucked and he had to go back because he'd lied. He had no interest in going back. He didn't care about the bridge. He just wanted to stay on the beach with the girl. That isn't as far adrift as McNulty making up the serial killer, but by the standards of 1970 and what was in the ether in terms of American heroes and film iconography, that was unbelievable. Hey, this guy's not the hero. He may act heroically and he may even be martyred, but he's not the hero. I saw that, and it was like a kick in the head.

It happened again with my son, when my son was about 8, we watched "Kelly's Heroes," which was the direct antecedent to "Three Kings." There came a moment when he realized these Americans were just robbing banks. And it was Clint Eastwood! Ethan looked at me and said, "Dad, they're really not doing the right thing." 'Yep." He goes, "They're Americans." I go, "Yep. Just preparing you for the 21st century, son."

It was a funny moment, but I think on some level, that's what we were offering up for season five. We sort of expected people to be pissed. They're right to be pissed off. It is a disappointment. You thought the guy could do better.

FAKE SERIAL KILLERS

I know some people have wondered whether you thought Jimmy and Lester were justified in what they did, and it sounds like you don't think so.

I don't think it matters whether they're justified or not. They're playing a rigged game. It's hard to say that what they did was any more irrational than continuing to play the game. I can argue it from both sides. It was certainly self-destructive. As it turned out, Lester had his 20 years and for reasons of a lie turning out to have political import, as a like like that would have, he's allowed to walk with his pension. Jimmy doesn't get his pension because he's only got 13 years, but in some ways, I think Jimmy was ready to walk anyway. I actually think getting out -- I actually have some hope for Jimmy. He was doing something that was killing him.

He seems oddly at peace there in those final scenes.

Absolutely. I think so. Not that anyone has to have my opinion. Dominic West might feel differently, Ed Burns might feel differently. I'm not sure I know. But I do think that, just as he said a fever had passed at the end of season three, at some sense he did walk away from the fever, I think he's now recognizing the fever for what it is. Maybe a little self-awareness crept in. Certainly, when you see him kneeling over the body of the homeless guy and realizing he's the proximate cause of another death, I think that was a hard lesson. I think on some level, he knows he didn't deserve to be a cop anymore.

When people have complained about the serial killer fraud, I said that this is a show that spent season three legalizing drugs in West Baltimore. Do you think what McNulty does here is any more extreme than what Bunny did?

I think it's less extreme in this sense: it was easier to sell. I was in the morgue one day in 1988 when this exact thing came up. An Anne Arundel County detective was telling the story that the Baltimore County detectives tell in episode two. I don't know if you caught that, but those were two of the characters from Laura (Lippman)'s novels, Nancy Porter and Kevin Infante. I had to get permission from her publishers to use them. I gave it to Baltimore County detectives, but it was an Anne Arundel detective who had a guy who overdosed, did a header caught between the toilet and there was post-mortem bruising, and that is the one way in which a pathologist can mistake a murder. I remember interviewing the then-chief medical examiner of Maryland, and he said 'This one catches us now and then, especially if the body is descending.' If you raise up the body so that the blood flows to the head, it creates the bruising dramatically. In 1988, I put that in my back pocket. You can actually make a murder? That one I loved.

The second thing is, you would only need to fool the medical examiner and you only need to let a certain number of people in on the true nature of the secret. To an extent, they cheated, the guys who were doing the surveillances for them didn't know there was not a serial killer. It was a couple of guys was all you'd need on that one. (With Bunny), the Western District has 150 cops in it. Every cop who drives into that district, they answer calls from other districts, you're talking about 3-400 cops, all these detectives from CID who may find themselves over there, and that thing went on for weeks. It's interesting how people are credulous when they want to be, and when they don't want to be, they're not. I didn't have any problem with that, in terms of showing it to myself. You should have heard that Anne Arundel detective, he was screaming at the guy, 'What the fuck am I gonna charge? A paramedic?'

THE GREEK AND GREEK TRAGEDY

Let me ask you about The Greek and Marlo working together. Given that Joe was such a reliable business partner and fit the quiet, uncomplicated modus operandi that they had, why was The Greek willing to throw him under the bus and give Marlo his blessing to kill him?

I think he realized, much as Joe did not, that Marlo was going to kill him anyway. Marlo would have killed him and taken lesser dope in order to be the top guy. Getting the connection would be icing on the cake and would allow him to wholesale to the co-op, to co-opt the co-op. But if the Greek had said no way, he would have killed Joe and then come back. The way we felt about it was this is pure power and pure power is inexorable, there's no mitigating it. Pure capitalism recognized pure power -- takes one to know one. The way he said 'He kept coming back with money and wouldn't take no for an answer.' They both didn't exchange the 'I am that I am' moment with each other, but they did in their eyes. And he says it to Vondas: 'He would keep coming back.'

For The Greek to choose this guy, it's not so much of a choice except it establishes a different dynamic for the supplier, on a practical level, if you have given the guy the wink and said, 'Do what you're gonna do and we'll talk later.' You're now in a position where there is some degree of gratitude, as opposed to Marlo coming back into the diner saying, 'Well, Joe's dead, I killed him, here are my terms if you want to keep wholesaling in Baltimore.' That whole thing was Aesop's Fable of the turtle and the scorpion and Joe didn't recognize the scorpion. The Greek did.

It's interesting, then, that pure power winds up, if not imprisoned then taken away from his power, where pure capitalism in the end continues on exactly as it always has.

Right. Right. Change governments... That's exactly right.

This one I'm paraphrasing from a reader: Given the show's roots in Greek tragedy, how different are modern institutions from ancient institutions?

Well, no one's tried to feed Ed Burns any hemlock lately. I don't know what to say to that. I think there are some core dynamics in terms of how humans govern themselves and how they route power and wealth and authority that are eternal. And the notion of democracy goes back to the city-states, and Athens in particular. Obviously, the contradictions and complexities of democracy have been a source of struggle ever since the form was suggested and practiced. It was his relationship to the democratic ideals and the problems inherent in the democratic ideals that got Socrates the hemlock. It has always been a point of intense conflict as to how people are going to be allowed to govern.

I just think at this point the institutions in America -- and by that I mean the manner in which power and money are actually routing themselves and controlling the political infrastructure -- I live in a state where 9 times out of 10 my vote will not matter. My vote will not matter in this coming election. Why does it not matter? Because the voting structure of this country has been set up since the birth of this country in a manner that is anti-democratic. It is oligarchal. When 40 percent of the people elect 60 percent of the senators, as is true in America, you cannot call it a democracy. You can say it has some democratic principals, it has some democratic roots. You can mitigate it however you want. But if 40 percent of the people elect 60 percent of the higher house of a bi-cameral legislature, it's an oligarchy. We're being led by the rich and the powerful, and I don't know about you, but I sure wish they were doing a better fucking job.

THE CANDIDATE FOR CHANGE

Do you see any hope in America? People right now are looking to Obama the way people in the fictional Baltimore looked to Carcetti, and we know what happens when Carcetti starts running up against the machine.

Not that I'm announcing my support for anybody, but I'm impressed that Obama got this close to being a nominee just being part African-American. There's a part of me that looks at that and says, "Damn, we're getting healthier on some things." Now, is Obama any more able to address the fact that we're a money-obsessed oligarchy and not a democracy? I don't think so.

I think for change to happen on a level that actually affects the structure of that oligarchy, a lot of distressing things will have to happen, and more people are going to have to suffer a great deal more. More struggle for the working class, and the middle-class is going to have to be marginalized. Wages will have to go a lot lower, the recession will have to go a lot deeper -- and I think we're in a recession and headed for some bad economic times. I think it's going to have to go a lot deeper.

At some point, the Sunis that we paid out with money and guns are going to have to wait until we fashion whatever escape we have from that war and start ripping the country up and reducing it to a civil war. I think we've built a Lebanon, and once it becomes clear that we've built a Lebanon and condemned that region to generations of internecine violence, and it cost us 4000 troops and a veritable treasure -- I hope we get out of there before it's more -- I think people are going to be angrier.

Right now we have the illusion that we're fixing things. I don't know for sure; I'm not there on the ground. But I'm sitting here in a room with Even Wright, who just was in Baghdad and spent weeks there interviewing everybody there and talking to Petraeus and to people on the ground, and his take on it is we've built another Lebanon. Right now, we're paying people not to shoot at each other, and we're giving people guns and saying, 'Please don't use these.' At some point, somebody's going to assert for power there, probably after we're gone, and we'll realize that this was over nothing, over absolutely nothing.

When that happens, maybe the next war gets harder, and when the economic structure fails to a point where people begin to realize en masse that they've been cheated and that their future has been marginalized, at that point maybe there's another New Deal coming, maybe there's another reckoning. But short of that, as long as it's just some people in places like Baltimore, and it's only 10 percent or 15 percent of the population we don't need, I'm sorry, I think there's a lot of money to be spent by a lot of people in order to keep people pacified.

You know why I like talking to you? You always make me feel so optimistic.

It's my job, man. By the way, if you want to not focus on what the fuck's going on, read the newspapers. Suffer the journalism, and don't worry: the big picture will elude you nicely.

MISCELLANY

How closely do you follow fan reaction to the show, on-line or elsewhere?

I generally check in from time to time to see what people are talking about. But it's not a Talmudic assessment. It's always interesting to find out (what people think), especially on certain websites where the level of discussion is at least more substantive. There's places that I don't go. And by the way, some of the places I go where the critique might be quite harsh at times, and some of the places I don't go are places where it's sort of fawning. When websites critique your show in a way that's silly, it's hard to go back. But that's what the Internet is, right? Your colleague's site, I read it for the other film criticism. Never mind 'The Wire,' I'm reading it just because I don't know some of this stuff. That's a place to learn stuff you don't know.

I imagine one of the places you don't go back to too often are the HBO.com boards.

I get a little tired of the "more gangster than thou" stuff, yeah. I'm not particularly interested in that.

This season, more so than any others, it seemed you used more people either playing themselves or people similar to themselves, instead of trained actors.

I think it's about the same as every other season. You just don't know 'em. You don't know how many gangsters and ex-gangsters were layered through the first four seasons, how many school officials were in season four, how many police officials. It's just that a lot of the media people are known for exactly who they are. But the guy cutting Avon's hair is Jim Hart, and I know who Jim Hart is, and everyone in West Baltimore knows who Jim Hart is.

There have been some people who, for one reason or another, feel like a Melvin Williams or a Snoop Pearson doesn't deserve to be on a TV show given what they've done in their life.

To quote Snoop Pearson, quoting Clint Eastwood, deserve's got nothing to do with it. You come in, you read, if the portrayal is worthwhile, if you're the right actor for the right moment. Certain roles were going to be cast out of Baltimore, we didn't have the money to bring in actors from NY for every part. We were just looking for interesting people, and we weren't going to preclude people who had trouble with the law and had served their time, and having served time were on the street looking for something different. I'm not sure that's our role, to make that judgment.

Having said that, I find it sort of remarkable that that would be uttered in a country, that right now, today, if you looked at the New York Times, seems content to put 1 out of every 100 of its adults behind bars. There's a fundamental illness in this country when it comes to incarceration, how it's used and who it's used on. If people choose not to recognize it, that they marginalize people, if they exclude them from the economy because they have previously been incarcerated, I don't know what to do with that. Should we have left Snoop in East Baltimore to fend for herself? She showed up to read. She's an interesting character, she committed to it wholly, she took acting classes, took voice classes.

Certainly, it's better that she's playing a killer than to be out on the street where she might have opportunities to be one.

I hope so. I hope people see the distinction.

And you've shown on your show that people like Cutty who have done bad things can be returned to being useful members of society.

And Donnie. I mean, I don't have a hero bigger than Fran Boyd.

Is the New Orleans show (a proposed HBO drama about musicians in the Big Easy) definitely a go?

I have to put finishing touches on the pilot before I turn it in. If I could get two days off in a row from post production on "Generation Kill," if I could get a decent weekend, I could turn it in. I've been going six days a week between New York, Los Angeles and London and stopping in Baltimore to change dirty laundry for clean. That's not an exaggeration. I just don't have the time to take the last notes for people and clean up a couple of storylines and turn it in. I think my first week off is in the middle of March.

Do you think you could have gotten The Wire on HBO today, or was it the halo effect of "Sopranos" and other shows at the time that made it possible?

They signed the deal with me to write it, and "Sopranos" wasn't on the air yet. Obviously, Sopranos was on the way. But I was coming at it after "Oz." "Oz" was, to me, the groundbreaker and the one that made me believe that "The Corner" could be on HBO, and "The Corner" gave me entree to talk to Carolyn about a continuing show. When "Sopranos" came out, we were already working on "The Wire," I believe.

Having said that, there was a notion that they could almost put anything over, that if it was good enough they could sell it to everybody. And I think there was a little hubris in that, because "Check me out, dog. My cast is 60 percent black and my story is all this dysfunction and I'm filmed in Baltimore and nothing makes sense until episode 4. Come get me." I think I disproved the theory that HBO could sell anything to everybody! I taught them a lesson, didn't I?

But having said that, I'm a huge admirer of "The Sopranos," and of "Deadwood" as well. Now I'm getting to watch them in order. Before, I'd seen enough of the shows to know what they were and admire them, but I had resisted watching them in some systemic order. I wasn't worried about raw plagiarism, but I was worried about having these very significant themes that Chase and Milch were pursuing in my head. I didn't want it to start, in any suppressed way, conflating with anything I was doing on "The Wire." Since they were dealing in a similar medium, in a similar venue if not a similar vernacular, I just didn't want to have it in my head. I now get to crawl up in my boxed sets like everybody else.

GOODBYE

The last shot of the series is of the show's main character: Baltimore. You have all these people from past seasons wandering through this season. Munch shows up at one point. Is this your goodbye to Baltimore?

It's certainly my goodbye to doing a cop show in Baltimore. There are a couple of ideas for features that I would love to do. They happen to be comedies. There is one true crime story that there's a lot of interest in, and we're working on a script for that. It happens to be in Baltimore, it's a true crime story, but it's not the overarching depiction of a city that I think gave Baltimore such angst for so long. It is saying that after a lot of years of making television about crime and Baltimore, yeah, it's a goodbye.

The Munch thing was just very gentle. I certainly didn't want to blow anyone out of the water with it or upset the apple cart in terms of verisimilitude. It served Richard's amusing purpose of having the character be on everything from Sesame Street to X-Files. It served my purpose as a little tip of the hat to people who mentored me in show business and showed me how to do this. It was just a small moment. If you let it bother you because this guy was at the bar, then I'm sorry.

You do realize you've now placed The Wire in the same fictional universe as The Simpsons, among other things.

And in whatsisname's...

Tommy Westphall's imagination. The show never existed.

You know what? The show was fictional.

Really?

I have to say, it was fictional. We did make some stuff up. I checked my WGA card and on the back it says I'm allowed to do that. My Baltimore newspaper guild membership card, long expired, would not have allowed it, but my WGA card seems to approve.
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Sepinwall on TV: The Wire unplugged

Today's column previews the finale of "The Wire" by looking back over great moments in the show's history that either paid off long after the fact (say, the above-pictured scene of the boys plotting their "water balloon" attack and how important it was last week) or moments that were pay-offs a long time in coming (say, Avon and Stringer's balcony talk). It's not remotely complete (for space reasons, I had to cut bits about Ziggy's rampage and the Robert's Rules of Order scene at the last minute, and there were plenty of others that never even made it that far). There are also YouTube links to most of the scenes mentioned.

Back tonight at 10:35 (or whenever the credits begin, if I'm in front of my TV at that second) with both the finale review and the Simon interview. Click here to read the full post

Saturday, March 08, 2008

In Treatment week six thread

Forgot to post this last night. Sorry. As we've been doing the last few weeks, just a single post to discuss all five episodes of "In Treatment" that I'll try to remember to bump up every night at 10 p.m. so we can discuss each epiode. As before, please respect the broadcast schedule: no discussing Alex's episode until after it airs Tuesday night, etc. Click here to read the full post

Friday, March 07, 2008

Survivor: Mind over muscle?

Spoilers for the latest episode of "Survivor: Micronesia" coming up just as soon as I kill a shark with my bare hands...

I keep going back and forth on whether I'm enjoying this season. As mentioned many times previously, I wish they would stop bringing back previous contestants, because they inevitably come off much worse the second time around. (See the Jonathan-Cirie dust-ups in the previous two episodes.) But at the same time, there's been some very interesting gameplay by the likes of Cirie and Tracy, and I will never get tired of watching Probst and Jonathan go another round in their ongoing feud. (The subtext of every exchange goes something like "I'm the host of this show and you will respect my authority! Don't you see this awesome hat I'm wearing?" "Yeah, well I dumped The Nanny, Reality Boy! And my hat is much cooler!") And, other than Tracy, the only contestants I care about are the veterans, so maybe there's something to be said for recycled casting.

It was a pleasure to see Cirie and Tracy team up to give cro-magnon Joel a taste of his own medicine. Yes, there's a chance that dumping Joel could cost the team in the event there's some challenge focused solely on brute strength -- say, one of those "How many sandbags can you hold up on your back?" numbers, though we got a variation of it a few weeks ago with coconut basketball -- but very few of them are that dependent on raw muscle, and like James, that's all Joel was useful for. Ozzy can carry a team in any other kind of physical challenge, Ami and Amanda aren't slouches at that stuff, and Cirie's pretty good at puzzles. Yes, Chet may be the most useless contestant in the history of the show -- explain to me how a "superfan" is so terrible at both the physical and the social aspects of the game -- but he doesn't actively demoralize other players in the middle of challenges when things aren't going his way.

I hope Jonathan's leg doesn't get so bad that he has to be evacuated from the game (any "Wire" fans want to tell me if I used that word properly?), because the show wouldn't be half as much fun without him. Ordinarily, I hate when contestants start whining during challenges (see Terry's "Call the whambulance"-worthy performance during Cirie's original season), but I always get a kick out of Jonathan doing it, largely because of the Probst hatred that it's always wrapped around.

Also, while reality showmances usually annoy me, particularly in the scuzzy environs of a tropical island with no toiletries, I have to admit to smiling when Ozzy seemed to melt at describing Amanda killing the shark. So, she's gorgeous and she's good at killing stuff in the water like Ozzy? They may be a more perfect couple than Rob and Ambuh.

What did everybody else think?
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Thursday, March 06, 2008

Lost: Goodwin some, lose some

Spoilers for "The Other Woman," the latest episode of "Lost," coming up just as soon as I fold my laundry...

Almost anything was bound to be a letdown after last week's time-bending love epic, and while "The Other Woman" wasn't the weakest episode of '08 (that remains Kate's episode), a number of season three-era problems crept in for the first time this season.

Start with the flashback story. I don't mind alternating Oceanic Six flashforwards with flashbacks for the newer characters who aren't so played-out that we're finding out the origins of their nose jobs. But they need to tell us something new about either the overall story arc or the character, preferably both, and Juliet's flashback told us neither. Outside the introduction of Goodwin's unpleasant wife Harper (played by Andrea Roth from "Rescue Me," who's in danger of being typecast as a shrew whose husband steps out on her), the flashback story offered us absolutely nothing we didn't already know about Juliet, Ben, or Goodwin and his death. Between the season three-opening flashback showing The Others' response to the Oceanic 815 crash, Ben and Juliet's strained relationship throughout that season (past and present) and the revelation in "One of Us" that Juliet and Goodwin were sleeping together, it was beyond obvious that Ben had sent Goodwin to the Tailies' side of the island in the hopes that he might get killed. Why did we need an entire episode on that detail when it's been clear from Juliet's first appearance that Ben is insanely crushing on her? If it was just to set up the big dramatic moment where Jack decides to defy Ben by kissing her, then yawn. The moment where I gave a toss about Jack Shephard's sex life passed a long, long time ago (if it existed at all).

(To go off on a tangent for a moment, one positive about the return of Goodwin and the visit to the site of his death was that it got me to reminisce on one of the few highlights' of Ana-Lucia's tenure on the show: the long, tense conversation she and Goodwin had on the top of the mountain before they had their battle to the death in "The Other 48 Days." I wish it was on YouTube; might have to crack open the season 2 DVD to watch that one again.)

Just as frustrating was how we're back to Jack and Kate being complete imbeciles -- Kate the alleged badass letting Charlotte get in position to cold cock her even though she knew these two were up to no good (Juliet the obstetrician continually makes her look like a wuss), and Jack again following someone blindly in a situation where answers are demanded and letting things go after being told he's better off not knowing. If you're going to devote an entire episode to The Others having an electrical station that doubles as a poison gas plant, the least you can do is explain what the purpose of it is within the Dharma/Others/pirates balance of power on the island.

And yet, in spite of all that, "The Other Woman" wasn't a total waste of time, because it wasn't a sole-focus hour. The problem with "Eggtown" was that if you didn't care about Kate, there wasn't much else there. (Most of the discussion about the episode, not surprisingly, was about the scraps of information we got about the Oceanic Six/Eight, plus the Aaron twist.) This one, on the other hand, gave us a rare B-story (or, if you consider the flashback to the B-story, then a C-story) with Ben once again getting over on Locke over at the bungalow colony. While John is also being an idiot in the grand scheme of things (and is being more destructive than whatever small idiocies Jack and Kate committed), there's at least a thematic consistency to it. Locke is obsessed with protecting the island, and on that his goal and Ben's are intertwined, so I can see how this makes sense in his cracked brain. Plus, any scene with Michael Emerson and Terry O'Quinn playing off each other is fun (as was the reaction of Sawyer and Hurley to seeing Ben out and about and being domestic). Last week made it plain that Mr. Widmore was behind the freighter, but that was info Locke didn't have yet, and the prospect of the two island zealots teaming up to make things bad for everyone else intrigues me, and I would like to subscribe to its newsletter.

Some other random thoughts on "The Other Woman":

-The opening of the flashback tried to fake us out with the implication that Juliet was one of the Oceanic Six (she feels like a celeb), but of course she couldn't be, because she wasn't on the plane.

-Interesting that Ben, even in captivity, can easily communicate with the rest of The Others, which suggests two things: 1)They're going to come back before the end of the season (preferably with Immortal Richard, now that Nestor Carbonell's commitments to "Cane" would appear to be over); and 2)Ben is, as usual, lying through his teeth when he tells Locke that his people don't want him.

-"You people had therapists?" "It's very stressful being an Other, Jack."

-The "Lost" score is usually impeccable, but I thought this one was overdone in a number of spots, notably when Goodwin stopped by to give Julia his "extra" sandwich. As with the entire flashback story, it was as if the producers didn't trust us to figure this out unless they underlined everything. "See? Ben's up to no good here! Can't you hear all the strings?"

-When Harper says to Juliet, "You look just like her," is she referring to Ben's mom or to Annie, his young friend from the flashbacks in "The Man Behind the Curtain" or to someone else altogether?

-Ben was just bursting with the great one-liners tonight, notably "This didn't have a number, did it?" and "I taped over the game."

What did everybody else think? As mentioned in the post below this one, I had to enable comment moderation for the whole site (it's an all or nothing thing) from now until when "The Wire" finale airs because the finale leaked and people are starting to go around to various sites and "guess" everything that happens in it. Sorry if it slows down the flow of the discussion. I'm going to bed shortly, but please comment, and I'll authorize everything as soon as I wake up in the morning. I know it's a pain.
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Comment moderation has been enabled

Because "The Wire" finale has now been leaked and several other sites I know of are being plagued by people "guessing" every single thing that happens, I'm going to comment moderation between now and Sunday night. I'm sorry if that slows down the flow of discussion -- especially overnight tonight, when people want to talk about "Lost" -- but I can't take any chances. As Matt Seitz reminded me a few minutes ago, we have to nuke the site from orbit; it's the only way to be sure. Click here to read the full post

Better late than never reviews: Martha on Torchwood & Terminator finale

So I was cleaning out my DVR last night (when the hard drive gets above 70 or 75 percent capacity, it tends to slow down and maybe even pixellate new recordings) and realized that, while I had watched both the latest "Torchwood" and the "Sarah Connor Chronicles" finale, I never got around to blogging about either one. So brief, belated spoilers for the two skiffy shows in the current rotation coming up just as soon as I finish my homework...

I'd been looking forward to Martha Jones showing up on "Torchwood" for a while now, and her first episode didn't disappoint. I thought Freema Agyeman really grew into the role during her first season on "Doctor Who" -- especially from "Human Nature" on -- and it was nice to see her in a capacity where she got to be 100% awesome instead of her usual 70% awesome, 30% crushing on David Tennant. She was confident, funny, sexy (and her flirtiness brought out the vintage Captain Jack that hasn't been on display as much this season as I would like), and she fit in well with the crew, particularly the doomed Owen.

I wasn't spoiled on Owen's death -- and I have no idea if they're going to use some alien tech in an upcoming episode to bring him back, so please no spoilers for people following the slightly-advanced British schedule -- and was therefore shocked to see him take a bullet from the ubiquitous Alan Dale. A very creepy, scary episode and another sign that team "Torchwood" seriously got their act together for season two.

Speaking of improving as they go, I thought "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles" got quite a bit better after the first few boring episodes. Specifically, the introduction of Brian Austin Green, of all people, signaled the moment when I began to think this show might have more legs than I initially thought. For whatever reason -- my guess is a network note about making the main character more relatable -- the producers decided to soften Sarah from the homicidal nutcase she was in "Terminator 2," and so they wound up giving all of movie Sarah's most extreme, memorable qualities to Derek Reese, and the former David Silver somehow pulled it off. I bought him as a hair-trigger commando from the future, and he gave the show an unpredictable quality that it didn't have with the original troika.

The finale also featured one of the great "do more with less" moments I've seen lately. With the weekly budget obviously much lower than for the pilot, there was no way to actually show Cromartie massacring the FBI tactical team, and so they shot virtually all of it from the point of view of the bodies falling, one by one, into the pool far away from Cromartie's hotel room. It helped that they scored the whole thing to Johnny Cash's "The Man Comes Around" -- any scene feels more epic when it's accompanied by a number from one of Johnny's America albums (see also the opening of the most recent season of "The Shield," where Johnny's "I Hung My Head" kicks an already powerful opening sequence into something magnificent), and the song itself is about Judgment Day.

Still, despite the improvements, I'm still not sure if there's a long creative life in this concept. (That's assuming Fox even renews it, considering how much the ratings slipped from that big debut audience, and the fact that the network has committed big money for next season to sci-fi shows from Joss Whedon and J.J. Abrams.) It's a Gilligan or Fugitive premise, where the characters can only come so close to accomplishing their goal before the end of the series. And unlike "Lost," where getting off the island was also the chief goal, there aren't enough interesting detours along the way to get in the way of that. Either they're going to get their hands on the Turk and then realize that it's not the start of SkyNet, or they're going to spend seasons chasing the Turk as it continually changes hands; either way, I expect it to get old.

But, like a few other shows this season ("Journeyman" and "Life," to name two), "Sarah Connor Chronicles" turned out to be more entertaining than I at first thought it was capable of being. I won't exactly miss it if Fox doesn't renew it, but I don't regret sticking with it to the end of this season.

What did everybody else think?
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Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Friday Night Lights lives?

According to Nikki Finke, NBC is going to pick up "Friday Night Lights" for a third season:
I'm told that Jeff Zucker, Marc Graboff and Ben Silverman had been searching for a way to renew the critically acclaimed but low-rated Friday Night Lights for a 3rd season in a way that would still make financial sense. The answer came in a deal with DirecTV, now owned by John Malone's Liberty Media. Clearly Malone is looking to offer exclusive content to his satellite subscribers to distinguish DirecTV from its rivals on a content as well as price basis. "It's an innovative deal where NBC found a partner who will share costs and exhibition windows," an insider explained to me.
If this is all true, "exclusive content" would suggest to me that DirectTV gets to air the episodes first (ala USA getting the first-runs of "Criminal Intent" before they were on NBC). As I don't have a dish, it'll be frustrating to wait (unless it gets Hulu'ed early as well), but if the show can come back -- and if it can rebound from the mess that was most of season two, then I'm happy.

Say it with me: Clear eyes, full hearts... Click here to read the full post

American Idol: Women's semis, week three

Spoilers for "American Idol" coming up just as soon as I chew some gum...

Overall, not as good as the guys last night, but there were two very strong performances and another one that was enough fun that I really hope it carries the performer through to the finals. On to the bullet points:
  • Okay, now I get it with Carly Smithson. Where fellow seasoned ringer Michael Johns has been fairly coasting until now, she tore it up with her vocal on "I Drove All Night." Maybe she'll wind up as Archuleta's stalking horse.
  • I also really dug Brooke White's stripped-down take on Pat Benatar. Like Simon said, the original version of "Love Is A Battlefield" would have been an awkward fit for her, but she managed to find the drama in the song even while going minimalist and acoustic. I expect she'll be around for quite a while.
  • Still have absolutely no idea whether Amanda can sing, and I'm sure there are plenty of bar band singers who could do just as well or better on Joan Jett (especially if, like Amanda, they have the "Idol" backup singers to carry the chorus), but that was much more in her comfort zone than the hideous Kansas cover a week ago and one of the more entertaining numbers of the night. Even if Amanda's stylistic range is about two millimeters wide, it's a color we don't usually get on the show, and I'd rather she hang around past the interchangeable belters and blonde robots.
  • The show has been on so long and the pitfalls inherent in it are so well known that I am stunned anyone still chooses to sing Whitney. It's the Kobayashi Maru of "Idol," the no-win scenario. Even if you have the vocal chops of a Tamyra or even a Trenyce and can hit all the notes, you're still at best doing imitation Whitney. And if you don't have that kind of range and power in your voice -- as neither of our bookend singers whose names I can't remember do -- then you've tackled an insurmountable obstacle. Whatsername in the pimp spot actually hurt my ears on several notes, and I imagine if the show weren't so rushed for time -- no doubt because Paula is back to being incoherent and rambly and going on forever and a day -- one of the judges would have had something more critical to say than the three shrugged "good"s.
  • So who goes home? Kady Malloy was boring again on one of those Queen songs that's coma-inducing if anyone but Freddie sings it, but who goes with her? Whatsername in the opening spot for going first and being mediocre with Whitney? Ramiele for being understated on another "Idol" cliche and getting extremely lukewarm comments from the judges? Kristy Lee for being a robot? Amanda for being too weird or too one-note for this show?
What did everybody else think?
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These are the Daves I know: The Wire vs. The Sopranos vs. Deadwood

Over the weekend, I got together with my old partner Matt Zoller Seitz and Andrew Johnston from Time Out-NY to debate -- politely -- about the relative supremacy of "The Wire" (my horse), "The Sopranos" (Andrew's pick) and "Deadwood" (Matt's). It was recorded as a podcast and you can listen to it (and, briefly, download it) over at The House Next Door.

Feel free to discuss anything that comes up in the podcast, or any other arguments about one show vs. the others, but do not attempt to slip in spoilers for "The Wire" series finale. I understand it's already leaked on-line, and if I so much as smell something that's either an obvious spoiler or something that seems like a spoiler but is dressed up as a really clever guess, we're going to comment moderation -- on the entire blog -- from now until Sunday night. You feel me?

UPDATE: Matt has added a transcript for those who were having technical difficulties with the podcast -- or who just hated the sound of clanging dishes in the background. Click here to read the full post

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

American Idol: Men's semis, week three

The final week of the men's half of the "American Idol" semi-finals was both brief enough and good enough that I have a bit more to say than usual. Spoilers coming up just as soon as I go to Whole Foods...

Gonna take this bullet points-style:
  • This was the first time this season where all the "Best talent ever" hype actually felt justified. Luke Menard is obviously going home, but I have no idea who the other bootee might be, and at least half the performers had a reasonable argument for the pimp spot. When Archuleta -- who's going to win this season in a walk -- is in the middle of the pack at best for the night, you know it was good.
  • My guesses for bootee #2: one of Danny Noriega (who gave us the most flamboyant performance in "Idol" history and then was tres bitchy with Simon), David Hernandez (who followed up today's gay stripper scandal with a performance of a song everyone associates with Celine Dion) and Chikezie (good vocals, but bland).
  • How does David Hernandez come up with a Most Embarrassing Moment Ever story that involves photos and yet doesn't involve gay stripping?
  • Jason Castro is either perpetually stoned or very, very dumb. Or both. But he did a great job with Ryan Atwood's theme song.
  • I'm hoping that David Cook's rock version of "Hello" was totally his own composition (ala Blake on "You Give Love a Bad Name") and not a carbon copy of some emo band (ala Chris Daughtry's "Walk the Line"). I enjoy those rare moments of real musicianship on "Idol," as it reminds me of "Rock Star."
  • For a guy who's one of the show's most seasoned performers ever, Michael Johns seems to have only that one move on-stage where he bounces back and forth and raises his non-mic hand. That said, his version of the "Breakfast Club" song was a vast improvement over the last two weeks when he was coasting. Again, Archuleta's going to roll through this season like Taylor or Carrie did (I'll be stunned if he ever hits bottom three), but if Johns can ever put it all together, he can at least make things as interesting (if non-competitive) as Bo made season four.
What did everybody else think?
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The Wire: The secret origin of Clay's catchphrase

As part of my countdown to the final episode of the greatest drama in TV history, "The Wire," I decided it was time, once and for all, to get to the bottom of one of the biggest controversies surrounding the show: did "The Wire" invent Clay Davis' catchphrase, or did Spike Lee?

You know him, you love him, you would be a fool to ever trust him: Clay Davis is one of the most entertainingly despicable characters on "The Wire" for so many reasons, not the least of which is his ability to stretch out a certain infamous four-letter word so it sounds like it has 17 syllables. (This would be the for-adult-eyes-only portion of the blog, folks.)

But where did "Sheeeeeeeet" come from: "The Wire," or "The 25th Hour," the Spike Lee movie that Isiah Whitlock Jr. appeared in back in 2002, the same year that "The Wire" debuted?

As part of my post-mortem interview with "Wire" creator David Simon (the full version of which will appear here immediately after the finale airs), I asked him whether "Sheeeeeeeeeet" was his idea, or something he came up with after hearing Whitlock say it so splendidly in the Spike Lee movie.

Now, "25th Hour" came out in mid-December of '02, while "Cleaning Up," the first real appearance of Clay Davis (he pops up briefly earlier that season in "One Arrest" in a party scene, but it's basically a walk-on), aired in September of that year. Complicating matters is the fact that, while Simon and Whitlock both remember an alternate spelling of the word (specifically, "sheet") was in the script for Whitlock's audition scene, from "Cleaning Up," it's not in the final version of that episode. Simon's assistant heroically waded through the scripts for every Clay episode over the first three seasons to see if it was in earlier drafts, and the first time she could find it was in season 3, episode 6, "Homecoming," which aired in October '04.

Either way, it's moot. As Whitlock told me:
It was something my uncle used to do all the time. Growing up, he would do it five six seven times a day. You'd go, "Did you sleep well?" and he'd go, "Ah, sheeet, my head was on the pillow." I would every now and then just do it in conversations.

I was having a conversation with Spike Lee one time, I think we were talking about football, and I did it, and he said, "You should keep that and use it." So that's where I started doing it. I did it in "The 25th Hour," that was the first time I did it.
Simon acknowledges that his memory on this could be fuzzy, and says that the first time he saw "25th Hour" was before season four, when they were talking with Lee about directing an episode. So it's entirely possible that they came up with the idea independently -- or, as Simon says, "Maybe it started with (Whitlock), but I think we heard the Southern drawl in his tone and went with it."

For what it's worth, Simon says that first "sheet" kept expanding, first to four "e"s, then even more. No one could remember exactly how many "e"s were in the script of this season's fifth episode, "React Quotes," but Whitlock said he could sense this might be his final chance to say it, and under the circumstances (for himself and for the then-under siege Clay), he decided to stretch it out as long as he could.

There is, however, a downside.

"It's hard to get up and down the street without somebody doing it," he says. "What have I done? I've unleashed a monster."
Click here to read the full post

Sepinwall on TV: 'New Amsterdam' review

Today's column reviews "New Amsterdam," Fox's new cop show about an NYPD cop who happens to be immortal. It might be good if it weren't actually a cop show. Click here to read the full post

Monday, March 03, 2008

Breaking Bad: The bald and the badass

Spoilers for the penultimate episode of "Breaking Bad" season one coming up just as soon as I see what the river card is...

Now here's the first show that I can honestly say is suffering because of the writers strike. The first few episodes of "Breaking Bad" were interesting, but they were going at a very measured pace and clearly building to something, and just as we're getting there, everything's about to stop because Vince Gilligan and company only finished 7 scripts before the strike began. I'm not remotely ready to put this show in the same league as "The Wire," but the pace of this season is beginning to feel similar; try to imagine a "Wire" season being cut short just as all the stories began coming together. It's very frustrating.

That said, I thought this was easily the strongest episode of the run so far. Now, any episode that climaxes with a bald, clean-shaven Walt using explosive crystals to negotiate a fair deal with a scary meth distributor is going to be high on the "wow" factor. But the really interesting part of the episode, to me, was how Walt's finding it increasingly difficult to justify the meth-cooking plan. Sure, he's taking control of his own destiny, feeling more alive, blah blah blah, but he's already getting too sick to cook and therefore has to swap jobs with Jesse, the money is proving harder to come by then he first thought, and Hank's investigation into the ventilator mask winds up ruining the life of one of the few decent people at Hank's school. There's no way Walt is ever going to be able to wipe away the guilt of killing Crazy 8 and Emilio, but the longer he stays in this game, the more damage he's going to do to himself and everyone around him.

And, as always, Bryan Cranston is terrific. I know it goes without saying, but with only one more episode, gotta say it while I can.

What did everybody else think?
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Mad Men redux: Stair master

(Note: Because AMC is rerunning the first season of "Mad Men" every Sunday at midnight, and because a lot of people missed the show the first time around, I'm reposting my blog reviews for each episode the morning after. These are written as they were back in the summer/early fall; if I feel differently about anything in retrospect, I'll mention it in the comments. Also, while comments from both newbies and people who watched the first time are welcome, if you've seen these episodes before, please be vague about events in later episodes so as not to spoil things for the newcomers.)

Spoilers for the latest "Mad Men" coming up just as soon as I fill up my chip 'n dip...

"You know who else doesn't wear a hat? Elvis. That's what we're dealing with." -Pete Campbell
"Remind me to stop hiring young people!" -Bertram Cooper


Black is white, up is down, and Pete is absolutely right in a conversation where Mr. Cooper couldn't be more wrong. Though Pete's his usual overcompensating putz of a self the rest of the episode (we'll get back to his target practice foreplay in a bit), he's the only man in the Nixon brainstorming session who actually recognizes the threat John F. Kennedy poses -- not just to Nixon's presidential ambitions, but to the status quo that the men of Sterling-Cooper are dedicated to maintaining. Cooper and Roger see Kennedy's hatless-ness as a deficit; Pete recognizes the newness of it, and the fact that the country seems ready to embrace something new.

"Mad Men" takes place at the dawn of JFK's New Frontier, the tipping point when the culture (both high and pop) began being driven by young people. As Andrew Johnston wrote while discussing the Paul subplot in episode two, "the Mad Men era is one of the last times in American social history when younger men strived to appear older rather than vice versa." Of course Sterling and Cooper see Nixon as their dream candidate; they're on the losing side of history and don't even realize it. (Don's not immune to this, either, as evidenced by the deodorant campaign from a few episodes back where he dismissed all of Paul's space-age ideas as something that would scare housewives.)

While the Pete/Cooper exchange is just a small part of episode seven, "Red in the Face," the tension between the generations is a key part of the friction between Don and Roger. Roger, put out when his wife, daughter and mistress all go away on the same weekend, comes home for dinner at the Draper house and when Don's not looking, he makes a pass at Betty as he feels is his right as the senior man. (Note how dismissive he is when he says, "Oh, his war" when Betty mentions Don's service in Korea.) At first, Don -- his head still stuck on a conversation where Betty's shrink claimed she had the emotional make-up of a little girl -- puts the blame on Betty, but when Roger is a bit too effusive in his apology the next day, Don figures out what really happened and begins plotting his revenge, which is built entirely on him being younger and in better shape than Roger. (Note that he never really apologizes to Betty, though.) He bribes the building elevator operator to fake an out of service situation, then takes Roger out for a lunch overflowing with martinis, oysters and cheesecake -- the sort of thing he can just barely handle, but which he knows will cause Roger all sorts of discomfort when they have to climb 23 flights of stairs. Roger ends up projectile vomiting in front of the Nixon people, and I have to wonder how much of Don's glee at the end is about humiliating Roger and how much is about the prospect of not having to work for Nixon.

While Don is busy getting revenge, Pete and Betty are each suffering mini-meltdowns. Pete has to exchange a duplicate wedding gift and it's such an emasculating ordeal that he decides to use the store credit to buy a .22 caliber rifle to overcompensate for his feelings of penile inadequacy. This only leads to more hen-pecking from his wife, and so Pete takes the gun to the office again and creeps out Peggy by revealing a long, detailed fantasy about being an old-school hunter-gatherer in the woods. (What are we to make, though, of Peggy's trip to the lunch cart immediately after? I have a harder time reading Elisabeth Moss than anyone else in the cast.)

Betty, meanwhile, runs into Helen the divorcee at the market, and the snipped lock of hair from episode four comes back to bite her. "He is nine years old," Helen complains. "What is wrong with you?" -- which prompts Betty to slap her across the face (not as hard as the dad slapped the kid at the birthday party, but still) and storm out of the store without any of her groceries.

So here's my question for the peanut gallery: how accurate, if at all, is the shrink's assessment of Betty? We're supposed to view him as an aloof, sexist figure since he reveals everything about the sessions to Don, but at the same time, something is definitely wrong in Betty's head. Giving Helen's son the lock of hair was a poor choice, and slapping Helen was an incredibly childish response.

Another strong episode. What did everybody else think?
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Sunday, March 02, 2008

The Wire, "Late Editions": The ecstasy and the agony

Spoilers for "Late Editions," the penultimate episode ever (sigh...) of "The Wire," coming up just as soon as I watch a "Dexter" marathon...

"Ain't no shame in holding onto grief, as long as you make room for other things, too." -Bubbs

There's a lot to grieve in this episode -- as there always is whenever the brilliant yet cruel George Pelecanos writes the penultimate chapter of each season -- but there's also plenty of room for things to celebrate, and to laugh at, and to fear.

Many On Demand viewers have already called "Late Editions" the best "Wire" episode ever, and while I would need to go back and revisit the closing chapters of previous seasons (season one's "Cleaning Up" and last season's "Final Grades" in particular) before I make my ruling, I think what everyone's responding to is how the hour touches on everything that makes "The Wire" great. It begins tying together all the disparate story threads, reminding us why all the slow set-up at the beginning of each season is so important, but it also hits all of the feelings mentioned above, and so many more. I know the phrase "emotional roller-coaster" is a cliche of a cliche, but damn if I didn't feel like I was riding one throughout this episode.

The showpiece sequence is obviously the final 10 or 15 minutes, from Michael killing Snoop through Michael saying goodbye to Bug and then to Dukie -- about which I will have much more to say before this review is done -- but initially, the moments that really got my waterworks going were the happier ones.

I swear to God, when Namond showed up at that debate and we saw Bunny and Mrs. Colvin watching so proudly from the audience, I damn near wept -- and I don't even like Namond very much. It's just that, knowing what had happened to Randy, knowing that Dukie was now a junk man (and, later, possibly on his way to being a junkie), knowing that Michael was a murderer and now marked for death by Marlo... to see that one of these four boys, even my least favorite, had gotten out, was thriving and happy and safe and had defied the vicious cycle that claims so many boys like him (on the show and in real life), it affected me almost as profoundly as any "Wire" scene I can remember. Yes, I'm including Wallace's death and Ziggy's rampage and Carver walking away from Randy and the Michael/Dukie/Bug sequence at the end of this show, though I think in this case it was as much about context as it was about anything in the scene itself.

Even more affecting, both in context and on its own merits, was Bubbs' speech at the NA meeting, a moment five seasons in the making. (Simon and the other writers earned every bit of this scene's emotions with all the work they put into showing Bubbs' tragedies over the years.)

As has been repeated ad nauseum here and elsewhere, the depth and breadth of acting talent on "The Wire" is astonishing, and I would have to say that Andre Royo has consistently given the greatest performance of this wonderful cast. Week after week, season after season, he finds the humanity in Bubbs, makes you understand how fundamentally decent he is -- which in turn makes it an even greater tragedy that he became a junkie who stole from family, friends and anyone else who might help him get a fix -- and it's the warmth and sorrow he brings to the role that had me rooting so hard for him to make peace with Sherrod's death. I know that, as Snoop says (while quoting William Munny in "Unforgiven") that what we deserve has nothing to do with what fate gives us, but dammit, Bubbs deserves a break, doesn't he? And as he stood there in front of his fellow addicts, talking about that moment when he managed to not use even when his support system fell through, and then when he finally brought himself to talk, however briefly, about Sherrod, it touched me as deeply as it would have if Bubbs were real and I was sitting in that meeting with him. He still has further to go on his journey before we can consider him whole -- his sister failed to show up for the anniversary, after all -- but as with the Namond scene, any liquid discharge from my eye socket was as much of relief and happiness as it was sadness over what the man had been through.

If Royo isn't at the top of everyone's Best "Wire" Actors list, I imagine he's at least near the top. Jamie Hector, on the other hand, often gets dismissed as being too stiff (or, worse, the stereotypical, insulting "he's just playing himself"). I've always admired the control with which he's played Marlo -- to my mind, Marlo isn't bland but economical, with no wasted words, no wasted movement and no wasted emotions -- and in the riveting scene in jail where Marlo explodes about Omar's insults, it becomes clear just how much both Hector and Marlo have been holding in all these years. It also becomes clear just why Chris and Snoop have been going out of their way to keep Marlo ignorant of Omar's PR campaign. If, as we've discussed before, Marlo isn't a pure capitalist like The Greek, but rather a completely unfiltered product of the corner culture, then to him a loss of face -- of the name he made for himself, the one he hoped would ring out as he took the crown -- would be even worse than the money he lost when Omar ripped him off twice last season.

It's the fundamental difference between the otherwise equally-efficient, equally-deadly Stanfield and Greek organizations. As some of the On Demand viewers reminded me, at the end of season two, when Vondas and The Greek are making their escape from Baltimore, Vondas says that Nick Sobotka knows his name, "But my name is not my name." To them, a name is just a tool to be used for making money. To Marlo, his name is all that he is, a belief he asserts with terrifying authority in that monologue. Hell of a moment for one of the series' most underrated performers.

The police takedown of Marlo and his people, meanwhile, was one of the tensest and yet ultimately satisfying sequences this show's ever done. Because "The Wire" has by now conditioned us to expect the worst at every turn, I imagine we all watched Dozerman and Truck and Sydnor sitting on the marine terminal warehouse just waiting for the bust to fall apart somehow. But instead, after all the games with falsified paperwork and desecrated corpses and homeless abductions and all the rest, Jimmy and Lester's plan seems to work to perfection. They grab Monk, Cheese, Chris and Marlo and a whole lotta dope, and Lester gets to have his wonderful, silent moment of triumph where he stares down Marlo while holding the cell phone and the clock. (As with Burrell threatening Daniels earlier this season, it's a moment that wouldn't be half as intense if it included any dialogue. The look on Lester's face is all you need.)

And then, just as I've once again let the show suck me into the vision of a brand new day where the good guys triumph and the bad guys get what they deserve (again, see Snoop/William Munny for that one), it all begins falling apart, rapidly.

On the police side of things, Jimmy's decision to let Kima in on the secret last week comes back to bite him, as she tells the truth to Daniels. For most of the series, Kima has seemed like Jimmy's protege, but that's really only been on the personal side. We've seen throughout the series that she won't cut the corners that he will, that she believes things have to be done the right way, no matter what. One of the key Kima moments in the series takes place late in season one, after she's been shot by Barksdale's soldiers. Bunk brings a photo array to her hospital room, and when she can identify one of her shooters but not Wee-Bey, Bunk suggests that the trial might go a lot easier if she could identify both men.

"Sometimes," Kima tells him, resolute, "things just got to play hard."

Kima's a cop who does things clean -- and for the purposes of this particular story, she's the cop who got a firsthand look at the collateral damage of Jimmy's scam with the families of the "victims." I have no problem either believing Kima would turn him in -- both out of a sense of moral outrage and to protect the other cops who got unwittingly sucked into Jimmy's scheme -- or in defending her right to do so. We have these laws for a reason, and if we want to throw them out because the ends -- taking a monster like Marlo out of the equation -- justify the means, then where do we stop?

On the other hand, my heart ain't so big that I can find a way to excuse what Herc does in tipping Levy off to the possibility of Lester running a wire. His motives range from insecurity (having failed to get proper credit from Carver, he seeks an attaboy from his new boss) to ignorance (he has no idea that the wiretap is illegal, despite his involvement with Fuzzy Dunlop and the infamous camera, and therefore doesn't think telling Levy is a big deal) to plain stupidity, but this is the man who already destroyed Randy's life through carelessness, and now he's in the process of helping the defense of the very man whom he blames for getting him tossed off the force? Ugh.

Much as it frustrates me to see evil triumphant and all that, I can't help but admire the intelligence and efficiency of the Levy/Marlo combination. Maury may play dirty, but he didn't get where he is solely by cheating, and Marlo is even more careful than Lester gives him credit for. Lester's plan to credit the info that led to the arrests -- both the location of the re-supply and the fact that Marlo and company had been communicating through pictures sent by those cell phones -- to an informant is complicated by the fact that the only people who knew about the phones were the four people who had them, plus the very trustworthy Snoop and Vondas. Even if Herc weren't blabbing state secrets to Levy, I imagine Maury would have figured out something smelled fishy sooner or later.

We also see how tight a ship Marlo runs when he and Chris make the decision to have Michael killed, even though both of them feel confident that he didn't talk to the cops about Chris killing Bug's dad. When you've killed as many as these two have (directly or indirectly), often for lesser sins, and a possible long prison sentence is at stake, would you be willing to let Michael live? Michael is Chris' protege, and they have that shared experience of having been molested (it's interesting how at peace Chris seems to be about going down for the DNA evidence, as if getting to pummel Bug's dad like that makes a possible life sentence worth it), but we learned a long time ago that Marlo will kill you if there's even the possibility of you talking to the cops.

Marlo miscalculates on what Michael might have said to Bunk (the "source of information" was Michael's mom), and Snoop in turn miscalculates just how well Michael has assimilated the lessons she and Chris have taught him. The minute she tells Michael not to bring a gun to the hit, Michael's radar goes off, and he uses the great brain that Prez wanted him to use on math problems to turn Snoop's ambush around on her. It's funny: throughout season four and much of this season, as Chris and Snoop were marching people to the vacants, killing Bodie, trying to kill Omar, etc., there was a part of me that was cheering for somebody -- anybody -- to take them out. And yet in the moment when Snoop's about to die, when she turns her head away from Michael and smooths her cornrows -- the first remotely feminine gesture we've ever seen her make, but also a kind of classic gangster move -- I felt for her and how, like Kenard, she didn't become this way by accident. Great work by Pelecanos, director Joe Chappelle and the two actors. The break in Tristan Wilds' voice as he says "You look good, girl," is what really sells it.

Wilds isn't done, though, as he then has to carry two of the most tear-jerking "Wire" scenes of all time: Michael's goodbyes to first Bug, then Dukie. Michael's just a boy himself, but he felt he had to become a man -- and a killer -- to protect Bug, and the end result of that is that he has to let go of Bug and go on the run. The scene outside the aunt's house in Howard County -- she was mentioned in a season four scene where Donut wants to go joyriding to Howard County, Namond claims the KKK is active out there, and Michael invokes his aunt as proof that, as usual, Namond doesn't know what he's talking about -- reminded me in many ways of Wallace going out to his grandmother's house in season one. It's a perfectly nice, peaceful suburban neighborhood, but it might as well be Mars to Michael and poor Bug, who just wants his big brother to stay with him. (The crickets are just as alien to these kids as they were to Wallace.) You'll note that Bug doesn't say anything throughout the sequence; he just cries, and as with Lester's staredown of Marlo, etc., the silence only amplifies the moment.

And then, and then... excuse me while I go back and watch Namond at the debate and Bubbs at the NA meeting, because I need something happy before I go back and confront that devastating final scene.

And then Michael takes Dukie to the barns where the Arabers hang out -- and shoot up -- and as Dukie prepares to, once again, go live with junkies, he tries to hold on to his childhood for one last moment by reminding Mike of the piss balloon story from the very first episode where we saw them. I still haven't decided whether Michael genuinely doesn't remember it after all the growing up he's had to do since joining up with Marlo, or whether he remembers but doesn't want to, because it hurts too much to realize how much he's lost and how far he's fallen. Either way, it's devastating. How could these two sweet boys -- Dukie, who never meant anyone any harm and somehow kept his dignity in spite of being dealt a horrible hand by life; and Michael, who always tried to protect his friends and family, and who sold his own soul to keep them safe -- have come to this moment? How could Michael be a multiple murderer and a hunted man? (Not boy; man.) How can Dukie, innocent and brilliant Dukie, be right back where he started, only worse because he doesn't have his friends or school anymore? Why do I let this show in general and Pelecanos in particular stomp on my heart time after time like this?

I came to the end of this episode, trying to think of some way things could have turned out differently for the kids: if Michael had trusted Cutty instead of assuming he was just another pedophile, if Randy's house hadn't been firebombed and he could provide a haven for Dukie, if Dukie would ask Prez to take him in, whatever. But then I thought of the empty look on Michael's face as he denied remembering the piss balloon story, and the way Dukie sets his jaw as he prepares to walk back into hell, and all I could think of was Bunny -- the series' poster boy for how hard it is to do anything right inside this system -- telling the now repugnant Carcetti, "Well I guess, Mr. Mayor, there's nothing to be done."

Dammit.

Some other thoughts on "Late Editions":

-The Sun storyline largely takes a backseat to events on the street and in the police department, but Gus is now actively building a case against Scott the fabulist. Slow and steady, kinda like The Bunk.

-Also, for all the people who claim that editors Whiting and Klebanow are somehow less complex than many of the series' other "villains" -- a list that includes the likes of Valchek, Clay Davis and Cheese -- I give you that cringe-inducing scene where Carcetti's chief of staff Michael Steintorf tries to bully Rawls and Daniels into using all those pointless band-aid methods of juking the stats that Tommy promised would end on his watch. There are very few "Wire" characters I have ever found more loathsome than Steintorf, and this is a show that's featured sociopaths, mass murderers and child molesters. The worst part is, he clearly has won the angel/devil on the shoulder battle with Norman for Tommy's soul; witness Tommy's "We did not give up on this investigation" lie during the press conference.

-I know I comment on it so often that the point may no longer be as valid as it once was, but it still feels so rare to see Daniels happy that the mixture of shock and joy at hearing Lester's news felt especially amusing.

-Lester briefly turning Clay into an informant was a delight. For once in a rare while here, we see a cop getting honest answers from someone high enough up on the food chain that he has something valuable to offer. Plus, as with happy Daniels, it's such a novelty to see a completely forthright Clay Davis. (I know there's been some confusion among On Demander's about Clay's reference to scamming Stringer in season three and whether Levy was in on it, but Clay makes it clear that he had to go around to Levy to pull it off, and at the time it happened, Levy even tells Stringer that this wouldn't have happened had Stringer told Maury about the deal in advance.)

-Another politican seen briefly in a different light was Nerese. I barely recognized her casual off-the-record demeanor in her lunch with Gus. Interesting that she would seem less polished and more honest in a meeting with a newspaper editor than when she's having backroom meetings with the likes of Tommy and Clay, though I suppose her manner here could just be another act to endear her to a potentially valuable member of the press.

-O-Dog and Herc's complaints about the different ways the drug lords and cops deal with wounded colleagues nicely echoed Carver's line from season one about how the cops are ill-equipped to do battle with the dealers: when hoppers screw up, they get beaten; when cops screw up, they get a pension.

-I thought it was a nice touch that Marlo and The Greek's people were conducting the resupply at a burned-out, abandoned marine terminal -- yet another example of the drug economy replacing the blue-collar industrial economy of Baltimore.

-Loved the moment during Carcetti's dope on the table press conference where Zorzi keeps cracking up Alma by quietly heckling the mayor ("Oh, you are so butch") or predicting what cliche Tommy will invoke ("Don't forget about the community") before Tommy does so. I have survived many a tedious press conference by playing the role of either Zorzi or Alma.

-The legend of Omar grows: while level-headed Michael believes that the cops are right to be pursuing Kenard for the killing, Spider refuses to budge from the rumor that Omar was gunned down by three Pimlico boys with AK-47's.

-When McNulty shows up at Christensen's crime scene, he uses one of Pelecanos' favorite catchphrases (particularly in the Karras/Clay novels): "Talk about it." That scene also features the hilarious pay-off to Alma and Jay Spry's discussion of "evacuate" way back when. (See the Lines of the Week for the full transcript.)

-In case you don't have a long memory for the series, the guy in Evidence Control whom Daniels thanked for helping them was Augie Polk, one of the two alcoholic old codgers who were a drag on the original version of the Barksdale task force. Evidence Control seems a much more appropriate posting for the going-through-the-motions Polk than it was for Daniels when he got banished there between season one and two.

-The season has been littered with references to our pop culture's fetishization with serial killers and death -- Jay calling McNulty "Clarice," all the Natalee Holloway talk -- and in what may be the final carefree moment of Dukie's life, what is he watching? "Dexter," a show I enjoy greatly but which definitely plays into this fascination with the kind of killer that McNulty manufactured to get Marlo.

-While Gus is interviewing Terry's buddy at Walter Reed, the buddy says hi to a fellow multiple amputee, who's played by Sgt. Bryan Anderson, one of the subjects of the excellent James Gandolfini-produced HBO documentary "Alive Day Memories: Home From Iraq."

Lines of the Week:
"Go down Walmart or some shit, see if they take care of you while you laid up for a while." -Snoop

"Does this mean I still have to take that charge for y'all?" -O-Dog

"My name is my name!" -Marlo

"The Dickensian aspect?" -Scott
"Exactly!" -Whiting

"Shardene better be awake, too, because I do believe Lester Freamon is in the mood for love." -Lester

"Actually, it was a burnt sienna, tied around his dick." -Landsman

"Well, I guess, Mr. Mayor, there's nothing to be done." -Bunny

"Mr. C, you know the mayor too? Damn!" -Namond

"Guy stinks." -Christensen
"Probably evacuated." -McNulty
"What, he left and he came back?" -Christensen
"No, he shit himself." -McNulty
In case you haven't heard by now, the finale won't be made available On Demand, so for the first time all season, everyone in the audience will be on the same schedule. I'm hoping to post some "Wire"-related content throughout the week -- among other things, tomorrow I'm getting to the bottom of the true origin of Clay Davis' catchphrase, I did a "Wire"-related podcast with Matt Seitz and Andrew Johnston that should be posted to The House Next Door within a few days, and I'll have another Star-Ledger column about the show on Sunday morning -- and as soon as the finale ends, I'll publish both the final review and the complete transcript of the long interview I did with David Simon a few days ago.

The finale doesn't seem to have leaked -- yet -- but one last time, I'm going to make the spoiler policy clear: Do not talk about anything in the previews. Do not talk about anything you may have heard or read about the finale, whether gossip from someone you know who works on the show or any interviews with castmembers who maybe say more than they should have about the end. Do not discuss anything you might possibly know about the finale. I'm going to be extra-vigilant in this final week, and if I sense that too many people are trying to be too clever about this, I'm going to switch over to comment moderation until the finale airs.

What did everybody else think?
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