We wrapped up watching “The Wire” season 3 last night and am happy to see that the fourth season is out on DVD, so we’ll be able to watch all that before it starts the fifth and final season on HBO. (Watching shows in real time? I’ll be doing that for both “Battlestar Galactica” and “The Wire”, which will be a novel sensation for me. Shows on DVD has spoiled me; if you’re left on a cliffhanger, you can always watch the next episode.) The theme of the third season was reform, and of course the impossibility of it; more than the prior two seasons, this season really made the case that institutions have a life and logic of their own that railroads the people functioning inside them.
From early on, it was clear that the stories of Major Colvin and Stringer Bell were going to parallel and echo each other. Both men, for very different reasons, were dissatisfied with the way The Game was being played and sought to change the rules in their little corners of the world in ways that would reduce the violent crime rate (and for Bell, increase profits). It was obvious from the beginning that both men were going to fail wildly, and it’s a testament to the show’s writing that the predictability of that particular ending didn’t in any way detract from the suspense of the show. And the payoff was worth it; the writers didn’t have Colvin or Bell fail in the predictable way. I figured Bell would eventually cross Barksdale to the point where a hit was taken on him and the Colvin, when he was discovered, would come across so much internal bullheadedness that he didn’t even get a fair hearing.
Instead, Bell and Barksdale manage to take each other out in a double cross plotline that would, by itself, be a great plot for film noir. Some of the crazy lighting tricks they did during their scenes together and of course the lighting and set design of the place of Bell’s final demise showed that the directors were full well aware that they were recreating the noir atmosphere—but it was conservatively done, nothing that screamed, “Look at us doing a noir homage!” I kept holding out hope that Bell wasn’t done for, but that was wishful thinking brought on by liking the actor so much. (We saw “American Gangster” last night after watching the last episode of “The Wire”—make it a drug war movie evening, I suppose—and as we were leaving I wondered aloud how many times we were going to see Idris Elba get shot in one day. Coincidence or sad comment on the narrowness of good roles available to black actors?) I liked how it took Bell’s murder to really make Barksdale see the wisdom in Bell’s desire to take The Game off the streets and make it run more like a legitimate business, more about delivering product and less about turf wars. But of course, the legit world of business is still a game, like Stringer Bell found out, and he was still driven to do immoral things like bribe people and betray his best friend. But containing street violence is better than nothing, I suppose.
Major Bunny Colvin’s story was absolutely epic. His under the table plan to restrict drug dealing to certain, uninhabited neighborhoods and double up enforcement everywhere else—essentially driving all the drug trafficking and accompanying prostitution, junkie squatting, and just general moral degradation into one small area where it was technically legalized—was presented by the show as something of a moral dilemma, but I didn’t find it all that much a dilemma. Yes, it’s disgusting to see all that human hopelessness concentrated into one small area, but isn’t it worse to have it spread out all over the place? And honestly, isn’t it just a more extreme variation of the limiting that’s done between poor and privileged neighborhoods in the city, with all the trafficking and violence contained in poor neighborhoods? Why should white people and the middle class benefit from quarantining the violence but poor people shouldn’t? The moral dilemma aspects of the show almost seemed a tad tacked on to me, more an aesthetic question than anything else. What I really liked was how the show demonstrated that Colvin’s tactic allowed the police and social services to work together (as they should), instead of being at odds with one another. By driving all the junkies, hookers, and dealers into one area, the public health people were able to target them more effectively for condom and needle distribution, as well as access to drug treatment. A humane, service-based approach to the drug problem! You knew two things going in: a) it was going to work better than the punitive approach and b) it was doomed to failure because the punitive approach may not stop the problem, but has a myriad of benefits for privileged people that they’re not about to give up, from the white cops who enjoy bashing heads more than serving and protecting to the federal government that depends on the drug war as a tool to recreate a race-based underclass generation after generation.
But what moved the show from didactic to sublime was how the writers chose not to focus all their energies on assholes who like our racist drug war just the way it is, but instead on well-meaning people who genuinely want to improve lives for citizens, are open-minded to evidence and who end up having to compromise their own consciences because they’re part of the machine and it’s grind the gears or be ground up yourself. The mayor, the police commissioner, and the earnest young councilman all face up to the fact that Major Colvin was right, his plan worked, and they believe in him and his “crazy” idea about limited legalizing of drugs—how can they not with a pile of glowing letters from community leaders and a cascading drop in crime?—but the political gain to be had by standing by the drug war (and the potentially massive losses from speaking truth) suck them into the machine. Councilman Tommy Carcetti’s story could be called the AnyDemocrat story, the tale of an earnest, well-meaning progressive who realizes that taking soundbite-ready potshots and abandoning your moral compass is the only way to win. His final speech was a stroke of genius, his final capitulation to a progressive agenda that talks big and does nothing.
And who else was both bemused and disappointed by Kima’s embracing of the McNulty cheating strategy?
21 Responses to ““The Wire”, Season Three review”
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It’s worth listening to David Simon’s DVD commentary on the final episode, especially his thoughts on Carcetti’s big speech at the end. He seemed genuinely surprised that so many viewers of The Wire found the speech genuinely inspirational and thought it was a redeeming moment for Carcetti, and didn’t notice that the content was, in effect, “We can win if we just fight the drug war harder!”
Simon attributes that to the power of the cinematography, which is a dramatic slow push-in from a wide shot to an extreme close-up of Carcetti. That’s certainly part of it — that type of shot is a cliché that still reliably heightens the intensity of this kind of speechifying — but I think that’s only a partial explanation for why many viewers were swept away by a scene of a slick politician spouting clichés that that they know he does not believe, advocating the continuation of a policy that they know he knows cannot possibly succeed.
I thought it was a brilliant anti-West Wing moment, but I think the fact that so many viewers were sincerely taken with Carcetti’s speech dramatically illustrates how little the actual content of political rhetoric matters.
It’s worth listening to David Simon’s DVD commentary on the final episode, especially his thoughts on Carcetti’s big speech at the end. He seemed genuinely surprised that so many viewers of The Wire found the speech genuinely inspirational and thought it was a redeeming moment for Carcetti, and didn’t notice that the content was, in effect, “We can win if we just fight the drug war harder!” (An explicit nod to the Iraq War parallels that are woven throughout the third season.)
Simon attributes viewer sympathy for Carcetti’s speech to the power of the cinematography, which is a dramatic slow push-in from a wide shot to an extreme close-up. That’s certainly part of it — that type of shot is a cliché that still reliably heightens the intensity of this kind of speechifying — but I think that’s only a partial explanation for why many viewers were swept away by a scene of a slick politician spouting clichés that that they know he does not believe, advocating the continuation of a policy that they know he knows cannot possibly succeed.
I thought it was a brilliant anti-West Wing moment, but I think the fact that so many viewers were sincerely taken with Carcetti’s speech dramatically illustrates how little the actual content of political rhetoric matters.
Kima is my very favorite The Wire cop, (except for maybe Bunk) for the main reason is she is compassionate, tough, smart and fully realized.
She’s completely dissatisfied with her home scene for the excellent reason that she wanted to do everything to make her partner happy and what they wanted wasn’t exactly the same thing, and in the end all she felt was trapped.
I really like the Kima/McNulty partner relationship and, it seems to me these two are an example of how seemingly opposites turn out to be basically the same.
Carcetti’s big speech is the right thing for him to do politically, but the wrong thing in general (or morally, or whatever). It’s about as good and succint a depiction of the contradictions of American politics as I have ever seen.
Two other favorite moments: the last meeting between Levy and Stringer Bell. Bell knows he’s been screwed by Clay Davis and that his plans are in ruins. He’s covered in the shadows of a big brick wall, while in the background is city hall, brightly and clearly lit. But also distant, inaccessible.
The other: Carcetti walking through Hamsterdam. They keep the camera tight on him, while the sound gradually boosts this welter of conversation, shouts and screams. It overwhelms him. You know right there that Hamsterdam is finished.
I’d need scientific notation to express how much I want to see the fourth season!
The 4th season is the best of them.
You will lose your shit over the 8th grade boys who occupy the central focus in an examination of the public education system.
The tag line “No corner left behind” aptly parallels shrubs failed program with The Game.
Oops. That was meant to read “shrub’s.”
I have to say how much I love the Clay Davis character. He’s kinda the legitimate-world’s Omar — his job is essentially sticking up crews. When Stringer’s lawyer is laughing at him over the rip-off — “Did he tell you about the faucet and the hose?” — you can see Stringer thinking, “I’m trying to get out of the Game so I can stop dealing with Omar, and I end up putting up with THIS shit?”
Of course, Davis is somewhat less of an independent operator than Omar, though he seems to reserve the right to switch allegiances at the drop of a hat (or a few thousand dollars, at least).
I wish Kima and Sheryl’s marital problems had been explored in greater depth in Season 3. The arc of the characters was believable, but the execution falls short. Sheryl is such an interesting character. They need to do more with her.
The Kima/Sheryl saga gets about as much screen time as the story of Lt. Daniels anf Marla–but I don’t think the writers used that time as well as they could have.
The Wire’s depiction of Lt. Daniels’ dissolving marriage is masterful. Especially the post-separation scenes where he dutifully serves as her “arm candy” for political functions.
The breakdown of Daniels’ marriage reveals a lot about what kind of relationship they had in the old days, what drew them together in the first place, etc. With Kima and Cheryl, it’s just too cut and dried: Kima wants to be a cop, Sheryl has a baby Kima never wanted, Sheryl pressures Kima to quit a job she loves, Kima rebels….
In season 1 there’s a great scene where Kima, Sheryl, and some of Cheryl’s lesbian friends are out drinking. We learn that Cheryl went to journalism school and that her friends have artsy middle class jobs in the civilian world. You can tell that they don’t get what draws Kima to policing. The culture clash is very low-key, but it artfully sets the stage for the relationship problems that develop later.
I wish there had been more scenes like that in Season 3.
I really liked the scene in season 2 where Kima takes Cheryl down to the waterfront to see the shipping container where the 14 trafficked women suffocated. Kima never says this, but you can tell she’s trying to make Sheryl understand why her policework supports the kind of values that are important to Cheryl (i.e., justice for a bunch of nameless women that mainstream society would just as soon throw away). Cheryl sort of gets it, but not really. By the end of the scene you know their relationship is doomed.
Lindsay, I always thought that one of the great foundational scenes for the dissolution of the Kima/Sheryl relationship was somewhere in the beginning of Season Two, where Herc and Carver are discussing Kima’s new desk job, and Herc (I think) says, “Kima’s no house cat.” Both Marla and Sheryl expected their tigers to become house cats. Lt. Daniels is older and more mature, so he turns to a new relationship, whereas Kima follows McNulty and becomes an alley cat. But then by the end of S3, McNulty is starting to try and turn over a new leaf. Will Kima?
One of my favorite scenes in S3 happens in the last episode, where they go to Stringer’s apartment, which we are seeing for the first time. It’s classy and modern and beautiful, and McNulty and Bunk are walking around amazed.Then McNulty pulls a book off the shelf and says, “Who in fuck was I chasing?” and we see that the book was Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations.” There’s so much in that one moment, it’s just masterful.
I really like how the show addresses the complexity of intimate relationships, too, Lindsay. There’s a real tendency in America to point fingers and assign blame when long term relationships hit the skids, and sometimes that’s fair (he hits her, she is so desperate for attention she cheats constantly, etc.). But most of the time, you see very good people who are just mismatched. Or more heartbreakingly, people who were a good match and aren’t anymore. On paper it seems easier to blame Cheryl (to me, at least)—having a baby with a clearly reluctant partner is just bad news. But then it’s revealed how much effort Kima put into fronting like she was excited, and you just feel bad for the both of them. We’ve all squelched doubts to make someone we love happy. Sometimes that works out; sometimes it destroys everything.
The teaser for Season 5 up over at the HBO website says that McNulty’s drinking again.
Bummer. He had grown so much from being a cheating drunken dude into a good spouse and father. I guess that doesn’t necessarily make good television.
Amanda, it’s interesting that you’re more sympathetic to Kima on the whole. It’s a reflection of how well-written the show is that they don’t stack the deck either way. Kima’s a very sympathetic character overall, but I tend to sympathize with Sheryl more than Kima on the home front.
The couple is already deep into the IVF process when we meet them. Early in season 1, Kima sighs when she sees the doctor bill and says, “A thousand dollars worth of baby…” You can see her ambivalence, but not the abject rejection we see in subsequent episodes. The scene with the IVF bill establishes that the couple has already made some kind of agreement to try for a baby together. It’s not like Sheryl goes out and gets herself pregnant behind Kima’s back.
I feel like Kima’s outright indifference to the baby is overplayed, or presented without sufficient context. She is a parent, but she acts like a total stranger to her son. Even reluctant parents tend to have some vestiges of affection for their own kids mixed in with their frustration and bitterness.
We see some negotiation and renegotiation between Kima and Sheryl about the baby, but it’s well-established that Kima agreed. I think that makes her a lot less sympathetic than someone who ended up being a parent by accident and found themselves unable to deal with the responsibility.
Also, Kima agreed to quit the police force and didn’t follow through, so I sort of feel like she owed Sheryl some major concessions about their lifestyle. It’s one thing to be an absent parent, it’s quite another to help yourself to a double life because you’re pissed off about a child you helped bring into the world. The writers are careful to show that Kima contributed financially and emotionally to the making of that baby, even though she’s not the bioparent. We see that Sheryl stuck with Kima when she got shot and even when she broke her promise to quit the force.
Season Four is great–Dukie and the other 8th graders will break your heart–but I still enjoyed Season Three the most. The Westside War that begins with the dynamiting of the towers, the fall of the House of Barksdale, The dissolution of Avon and Stringer’s brotherhood in an elegant double cross, Hamsterdam, Marlo’s chilly ruthlessness, Colvin, Carcetti, Cutty, and Omar and Mouzone’s revenge all added up to the gritty grandeur of Shakespeare history play. Season Three was when The Wire really started to feel like the story of a whole city, not just a couple benighted corners and the cops who watch them.
The kids’ stories in Season Four are good, but they’re necessarily smaller, humbler stories. I missed the larger-than-life dimensions the gangsters took on, from the prison yard parting for Avon in 3.1 to Bell dying at the hands of two legendary gunslingers. Marlo, in Season Four, is ruthless and despicable, but he’s also a lizard, cold humorless, and passionless, and he lacks the charisma of the other crooks. Omar’s still around, but after finally avenging Brandon he doesn’t have the same fire. I missed Avon, Stringer and Mouzone.
Good points, Lindsay. My sympathies for Kima are quite irrational; I think I mostly sympathize with her reservations about the tedious norms of marriage and child-rearing. And I tend to think about how people do get sucked up into the logic of, “Well, that’s just what you do when you’re grown up,” without ever thinking about it all the way through. And in the abstract, we all know that it is better to voice your doubts from the beginning, and let the chips fall where they may. In their case, it would have most likely meant an end of the relationship before kids. But we all also know that it’s easier said than done. I do think with Cheryl and Kima, they both had an opportunity to put the brakes on when they first started to see problems crop up, and both swallowed doubts they should have aired from the beginning.
Yeah, I definitely empathize with Kima’s reluctance to accept the drudgery of caring for an infant.
It just occurred to me that there’s an interesting asymmetry between Kima and McNulty…
One of the big themes of season 3 is that Kima becoming more like her womanizing, hard drinking policing partner. One of McNulty’s best attributes is that he’s a really enthusiastic dad. He’s not always the most competent or responsible parent, but he loves his kids. Ultimately, his marriage still failed because of his infidelities, alcohol abuse, and his obsession with detective work–the same problems that Kima has.
Here’s the part that hadn’t occurred to me. When McNulty’s on a date with the political consultant, he reveals an interesting biographical detail. She asks him about college and he says, with some regret, that he had to drop out after a year because he got his girlfriend pregnant. McNulty’s still insecure about not being a college graduate all these years later. So, he had to sacrifice something in order to be parent, but he still managed to love his kids, even if he wasn’t willing to be a conventional family man.
Thinking back to Homicide, virtually all the cops have terrible family lives. G seems to have been very happily married (he was a widower during the whole run of the show, IIRC — and his relationship with his son was clearly tense, to say the least); Russert, IIRC, was a happily-married lieutenant until she, too, was widowed; Pembleton was happily married, though of course he was famous as the detective who didn’t get along with any of his coworkers. I think Crosetti’s marriage was okay…but he killed himself after season 1.
All the rest were a total mess. Multiple divorces, loveless marriages, painful struggles over sexuality…I think Burns/Simon assume that detectives will have failed personal lives characterized by deception, cheating and misery.
It struck me watching all those scenes in the box over the years that detectives have a completely warped way of relating to people — everything they do in the box is about getting the suspect to reveal/tell the truth. And yet, the cops themselves lie, lie, lie as much as they can to get to that end. They’re obsessed with not being played, while they play everyone else (sometimes even fellow members of the force). Kima might have thought she could bluff her way through being a supportive parent because being good at that kind of thing is one of the keys to her job.
My memory of the Wire timeline is a little fuzzy, but doesn’t McNulty’s relationship with the harbor cop develop after he gets back into uniform on a beat?
McNulty drops by the harbor cop’s house just as he’s about to get transferred back to walk a beat in the Western District. Come to think of it, he asks to meet her kids.
I love The Wire, and I’m glad you’re writing about it. I finished the fourth season around 2 o’clock Saturday morning. I have to say it’s probably my least favorite season, but I think so highly of the first three that that’s honestly not saying much.
My favorite moment in S3 is when Stringer and Avon are on the balcony reminiscing about when they were kids, getting into trouble and dreaming about being rich and powerful. They both know at that point that the relationship is coming to an end. It’s heartbreaking. Second favorite moment is the one someone mentioned above… When McNulty finds an Adam Smith book in Stringer’s apartment and he says, “who the fuck was I chasing?”
The first scene of the first episode of S4 is pure David Simon genius.
Thanks for the refresher, Lindsay! You and Amanda have both made great points about Kima, Sheryl and McNulty.
My wife and I own Season 1 on DVD — all the Pandagon posts about The Wire have inspired us to rewatch the whole season, especially since HBO is showing crap on Sunday nights now.
Randy’s plight in Season 4 affected me greatly. The kids in this season were terrific and their stories heartbreaking and compelling. One thing that surprised me was how much sympathy I had for Bodie in this season since I was still angry at him for killing Wallace in Season 1.
Another vote for Omar. I love me some Omar. He lights up every scene. The whole exchange about his killing his grandma’s crown and violating the Sunday morning truce is classic.
Tim Goodman of the SF Chronicle has a video of the promo for the Wire “catch up” specials scheduled to air on the 20th and 21st of this month on his “The Bastard Machine” blog. I could swear one of the faces that flashes across the screen is that of…Joe Klein. Ah well…I guess you have to take the bad with the good.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/sfgate/detail?blogid=24&entry_id=22473#comments