Viewing Log #35: Baby birch bleat bang [2/22/10 - 2/28/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

—Culture clash

• The Holy Girl [Lucrecia Martel, 2004] Just as soon as I wrap up another Word Doc, I'm gonna give this a go, finally, for words to be read elsewhere and later. A real "thinker," as they say.
  
• Shutter Island [Martin Scorsese, 2010] # Yeah, I went again. More shortly. But, quickly, I'll say that the music is the best part and that I was surprised at, again, how everything feels.
  
  
• Landscape Suicide [James Benning, 1986] Okay, I get it now, Matt. Great, just great. Was more partial to the first part set in Orinda, but not only because I used to live there and manage that movie theatre; also because her interview, with all its stammering and indecision, not to mention her note of confession and all its pain, made sense and made her isolation in herself feel real. Put otherwise, it turns the formal into a pathetic appeal. Gein, on the other hand, became more othered, less human. I'd love to see it again, or read a smart text about it, to address my curiosity with its gender divide. At first blush, my neophyte eyes say it's maybe the film of the 1980s. Maybe not my favorite, but easily one of The Great Things.
  
• American Dreams [James Benning, 1984] Kinda like a great video podcast (only so emulsified that's a silly comparison) with three different threads twined and abutting/overlapping. I spent most of my time reading the Bremer letters and listening to "the radio" while largely ignoring the particulars of the Hank Aaron cards and jigsaws. For that reason, it took me a while to realize that the numbers that kept fading up and down were his home run totals tallying up. Overall a pretty damned tight picture, one worth a look at least twice. And there is a curio corkscrewed into it: Benning himself. From Milwaukee, he must have been a fan of Aaron, and may have collected more than a few of those cards, if not all of them. And what does his inclusion in these dreams mean? I'm not one for investigating behind the screen all that much, but it seems impossible not to here, despite the abundance of material culled from general Americana. Because, if Benning's singing this song (these songs), what's his dream? Only to critique? Or just to witness? How's it not his diary, too?
  
  
• Shutter Island [Martin Scorsese, 2010] Plenty surprised by this one, but not by the so-called twist, and not because I "saw it coming" or whatever but because everything fits from the get-go. Plenty more to say, even after all the internet mess. Will try my hand at it for another outlet shortly. Mostly I dig stories about storytelling, and architecture, so this was a treat on that level. And it kicked me in some sore spots in unexpected ways.
  
  
• The Wire: "The Target" [S1E1, Clark Johnson, 2002] Somehow forgot all about this episode. Not a single scene seemed familiar. The pacing's all wonky, nobody's in a rhythm and it's only the dialog that's interesting. Or so it appeared to me. I was tired and full of risotto. Still, there are some good things, of course, and some jokes, but it's so damned self-serious it's kind of obnoxious. Maybe I'll go through Season One again while it's on demand. I do want to see the "Fuck" scene again in the context of its episode.
  
  
• Lost: "Lighthouse" [S6E5, Jack Bender, 2010] Kind of like a big 45 minutes of "duh" (but what do I know?).
  
• Winter [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2008] tweet: all in the rain beads on that hood / truly SF / floating quince blossoms in plastic, & so many circles / the wettest, most palpable
  
• Aubade [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2010] tweet: bright, static / color lines dont twirl / purple rises, stands, almost billows, sways / closes with a door closing
  
• Compline [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2009] tweet: aerial, more angular / more pools of light round clouds / a ribbon of blue carousels across a diagonal near forever / lift off
  
• Sarabande [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2008] tweet: a nest, thatched thick / to reorient gravities / to look *through* things at the world.
  
  
• The Same River Twice [Rob Moss, 2003] # The first half hour or so, for a little ditty I'll link to soon. For now: Karen Schmeer, you knew how to weave things. Now this film takes on even more sentimental value—and I never got to meet you! Also worth noting: can't wait to go rafting this summer.
  
• A Serious Man [Coens, 2009] # Yikes! More here, in simple and (I guess) serious terms. The revisit made me think of sound a lot, and tuning, but that didn't make it into the finalized edit. In fact, I think a lot more things. I could probably write two thousand words, not just six hundred, on this movie.

The Monday Evening Wire. No More Steps. Episode 60, "-30-"

by Cuyler Ballenger

[I want to quickly say that I really enjoyed writing these weekly re-caps, they were as fun as they were challenging (this was my first attempt at any sort of "serious" writing online). So thank you, Ryland, you're a sharp as shit editor and a generous host. Additionally, this final season of The Wire brought together some of my closest friends each week in my living room for food, drinks, jokes and insights. Thanks to you all Rach, Al, Cam, Willie, Ry.]

Well, it's all over, and while I knew last week's episode couldn't be topped, the finale sure didn't disappoint. I think for the final write-up I might try something new and give a brief look at each element of Baltimore.
The Hall
Carcetti had no idea what to say or do about the news that the homeless serial killer -- the one he's been using as a platform to run for governor on -- never was. We've had the luxury of watching, week after week, as the case compounded into the pile of unbelievably large poop that it is, but taking it all in one dose was too much for Mr. Mayor. In the midst of threatening Bond and Rawls with their jobs, Carcetti was interrupted by a laughing Norman, who was genuinely amused. I think I had one of those "'Road to Damascus' moments" right there, when I realized he is one character who's become only annoying. His snide one-liners about life in the hall are tired and no longer witty. On the other hand, Carcetti's chief of staff, Michael Steintorf, who the show has I think attempted to make only annoying, has become not only bearable, but really intriguing. He and Levy are the only non-street characters who, because of their acting, have turned evil roles into almost like-able people (I know a bunch you will probably disagree, and I'm fully aware Levy could never have been the guilty pleasure Snoop was, but Michael Kostrof and Neal Huff were great last night). Anyhow, it all worked out again for Carcetti, as McNulty's actual police work brought a face to the homeless killer and effectively ensured Carcetti's place in Annapolis come November. (I believe the politician Carcetti is based on, did in fact become governor.) The hall was exciting in season four. Seeing Carcetti's charisma and optimism in the mayoral race was a nice change of pace from the pain that was the school, but with really nothing more to offer to this season, save the constant bitching, I don't think the show would have suffered without him.
The Paper
From the season premiere, I knew it would be an uphill battle for the paper, having to compete with last season's power house, Edward Tillman Middle, and a battle it was. As I stated almost religiously over the past ten weeks, there were standout performances, mostly from Clark Johnson's Gus (who directed the finale), but Tom McCarthy's Templeton ended up capturing my attention as well. Templeton's final scene, one of many within the signature concluding montage, had him on stage at Columbia with Klebanow and Whiting receiving a Pulitzer they may just have to give back, going down in the books with Blair and Glass and the others Gus listed off earlier in the episode as notable phonies. There was no question D. Simon had it out for The Sun all season, and seeing his head peeking out from above a cubicle, but tilted down, obviously working, was icing on the cake. He is still working hard to report on a story everyday in Baltimore, he's just found a more potent medium. But there were signs of hope for the paper last night, even though Alma was canned. Fletcher's piece on Bubbles was printed, Sunday edition front page center, and though Bubbs was initially hesitant about publicizing his story, seeing as the only reason Fletcher could proffer for consenting was that "people will read it and maybe think differently," in the end, Bubbles' sister let him come up from the basement and join her family, showing that Fletcher's claim, like his writing, was true. A city as messy and gritty as Baltimore doesn't require reporters to embellish anyway, just people who are willing to look around and take part in their city. This is a point Simon made quite clear when an article on Omar's death was cut from the paper two weeks back. And it is made further visible in seeing Gus stay at The Sun, and knowing Simon himself still lives in Baltimore.
The Law
Jimmy and Lester were hung for their scandal, but neither put in bracelets. Actually, it seems as though they both got pretty good deals. Lester retired with pension, to his wood carvings and his girl. Jimmy looks like he's taking a break from the Jameson, and while he may not see any pension, he won't see prison either (as long as Marlo doesn't, more on that in just a minute). I've never seen him as content as when he looked at Beadie, taking off is coat and gun and said, "yea, home." He put in only thirteen years, and while Carver joked at his wake about a certain organ putting in considerably more time, the essence of the crack rung true. Jimmy expelled both his physical and mental health on this last case. And I commend the show endlessly for the way they handled the final resolution. It seems everybody was concerned with what would actually happen to Jimmy and Lester. Would they walk? Would they do time? They did neither, but that wasn't even the emphasis. The reason that Michael, Snoop, Marlo and Chris were the focus of last week's "Late Editions" was so the finale could be devoted Jimmy's wake, the literal death of the police drama that was the root of this series. In the green-lit local, the camera moved around the BPD's finest, each displaying the traits we know them best for: Jay being the wise-ass wordsmith, Bunk smoking his cigar, Carver just being that stand-up guy he is, Sydnor tucked in the corner attentively watching and Jimmy and Lester in the center of the action, being praised overtly the same way they've been praised subtly throughout the course of their time on the show. It was a long scene, but not too long, just the right length to be affective and not cheesy, and it ended fittingly; with Lester watching, Jimmy opened his wallet and handed a bill to a homeless guy as he walked off down the dark street. I guess he figured he owed him one.
The Street
I should first say that I feel sort of stupid for commenting last week on Andrew Johnston's argument of what Michael would come to be, for if I had just been a more attentive reader, I would have noticed that he had already seen "-30-" when he wrote his article for "Late Editions." Sorry dude, I was projecting my wishes for the show, instead of just paying attention. You were right, obviously. Michael has been my personal favorite since early last season when he wouldn't take the money from Monk (on behalf of Marlo) to buy back-to-school clothes. He walked off and Marlo approached him from across the street, in almost a run, something we had never seen him do before, and has not done since. He accused Michael of being a coward, in so many words, for not taking his money because he thought he might know where it comes from. Up to this point, Mike had not made eye-contact with Marlo, but the accusation instantly popped his head up, offering Marlo a look not so unlike the one he gave Snoop before he sent her shattered skull through the driver-side window of her SUV. Marlo's reaction was strange, a sort of smile, followed by a glance back at Chris who was watching the whole exchange. Marlo acknowledged Mike's presence, his intensity, his wit, and he liked it. From that episode, Michael quickly became a killer on the same level as his tutors and moved up the ranks within Stanfield's crew. He showed a couple signs of disapproval with the way Marlo handled his business, but nothing that hinted at him having some sort of serious moral code. I mean, he did attempt to kill Omar! Michael came off as an independent dude, sure, but so did Cheese. Simply inserting a shotgun into his hands, throwing a black hood over his head, teaming him up with some random guy and having him disappear into the darkness was an unnecessary (and sort of lazy) way to remind us that there are gangstas like Omar. I don't think any fan of the series would have been upset had Mike gone and jacked Vinson with the nine he was using before. His character was well articulated and bad-ass enough for us to believe he could just be Michael, not young Omar. That being said, Tristan Wilds, great job son!

Marlo walked. Chris will do life. Cheese will do death. And Monk will do twenty. Marlo sold Vondas for ten million and won't lose a dime to the law. But his last appearance was debated about for maybe a half hour after the show's conclusion last night. What did that scene mean? Marlo obviously still needed to know (immediately, as it were, for he didn't bother to lose the suit) if his name was his name. Well, it was and it wasn't. The two kids he approached didn't know him, but he never really made his face known, and he didn't actually say his name. When they flashed on him, he diverted the gun shot (in a move that looked all too natural for the martial arts-trained Hector) and threw a quick right hook to the jaw. The other dude dropped his knife and the gun sat at Marlo's feet. In the silence of just another anonymous, abandoned West Baltimore street corner, Marlo took a deep breath, assessed his minor wound, sort of smiled as he looked down at the gun, half nodded his head and whispered "yeah" as the camera pulled away from him. To me, that was Marlo's way of understanding that he only had a name in the first place because he did shit like that. That he wore the crown, he ran Baltimore, and even though he won't go invest in harbor-side property, he won't remain on the streets. His abilites there (on the street) are unmatched, the show has proven that; Stringer and Joe are dead, Wee-Bey and Avon are locked up for life. He needed to know that, he needed to almost lose everything he just gained to come to terms with his future position in Baltimore, whatever it may be.






"...the life of kings" - H.L. Menken

The Monday Evening Wire. Just a Step Behind. Episode 59, "Late Editions"

by Cuyler Ballenger

Clocks and maps open the best episode of any show I've seen (save any Sopranos and the finale of John from Cincinatti). Freamon, like clocks, knows what time it is, and Sydnor, like maps, knows where it's at (insert Snoop's "ya heard" right here). Within the first ten minutes, Monk, Cheese, Chris and finally Marlo are all arrested. Sydnor is smiling. Freamon is triumphant: he stares down at Mr. Stanfield, he kneeling, roll of cash and cell phone laying out in front of him on the street. Freamon shoots Marlo one last look, holding the confiscated phone in one hand and the clock in the other, and I can see him repeating the line he just said to McNulty over and over in his head, "Oh hell yea!"

But "Late Editions" was a two part episode really, the first part devoted to the "good day for the good guys", and the second, a poignant look into most of The Wire's key characters' motivations, fears and futures. I'm not sure why Snoop wasn't picked up (maybe because she was in the meeting with Levy), but the goodbye point/wave Herc offered her was enough to keep me from questioning further. With all the key players locked up, not to mention the Russians at the drop site, and Snoop, high enough up in Marlo's ranks to have earned a certain immunity, attention was turned to Michael as he was the only "source of information" Marlo could link to their arrests. And though Chris believes Michael didn't say anything to Bunk (which he didn't), Marlo has never been one to base his decisions on the character of his victims, telling Chris essentially, "Michael goes or you go." Snoop, being the only one left on the street, is left with that task -- one that proved fatally difficult, in yet another intimate and creepy point blank blast to the skull. Over at the The House Next Door, Andrew Johnston noted that this scene set the stage for Michael to become the next Omar. I can see that, I guess, but I'm more inclined to think that D. Simon paints a more complex picture of the Baltimore streets, as he made clear earlier this season by insisting that "Marlo isn't Joe" and, further, that Marlo isn't Avon -- whether or not they are set to be cell-mates. Yes, there are undeniable similarities in Mike and Omar, but Omar sobbed when Butchie got killed, whereas Mike told Dukie he couldn't even remember last year just moments after he didn't hug his brother goodbye. The streets are the streets, sure, but it does a disservice to the show on the whole to consider them (the streets and those inhabiting them) as cyclical or repetitive.

Johnston did say one thing I very much agree with though: Jamie Hector brought it! Both the scene in the holding cell, with his three boys, and, later, orange-clad with Levy, Hector revealed new sides to his character as his Marlo's circumstances changed. It was a move which matched the drama of the episode, one that reminded me Mr. Stanfield's inner intensity is what got him to where he is now (well, I mean, before he was arrested). The question I'm asking myself tonight is, Would I be satisfied if Marlo wasn't included in the finale, but just Levy speaking on his behalf? I only ask this because there is so much to cover next week, what with Carcetti's bid for the capital, Gus' investigation of Templeton and above all, the fates of Jimmy and Lester, I can see the streets taking the back seat to city politics. If that is the case, and Chris is locked up on a murder charge, Snoop (bless her evil soul) is dead and Michael is on the run, the Baltimore drug game took a major blow, one serious enough to leave an inkling of hope for kids like Bug.

Sadly, there is something terrible on the horizon. Something really pointless and stupid, though it does come from arguably, a good place. Kima ratted out Jimmy and Lester to Daniels. I swear, the ring of Marlo's phone in the evidence locker was almost as heartbreaking as Dukie's tears as he parted from Michael and walked down the wrong alley. The episode two weeks ago devoted to Kima allowed her to step back and re-discover why it is she does what she does: to protect kids like her own and help those who are past protection, like the boy numbed to life after his family lost theirs. But her actions this week were done out of a kind of blind rage, and they are going to reach further than she calculated. The case on Marlo will be compromised, and with a lawyer like Levy, a sort of more powerful Clay Davis (scary!), I wouldn't be surprised if Marlo escaped this charge. Kima, if I remember correctly, had never acted this erratically in the past, and this shortsighted fight against corruption may have next week ending on a disappointing note after all.

Namond, like Randy, got his cameo, although his was considerably more positive than the latter. Bunny was a better teacher than he was a cop and maybe a better father than teacher. Namond looked and sounded sharp, preaching about how shitty the U.S. treats Africa, a new kind of global argument about this country from Simon (though one that I didn't read into much, given the speaker). No matter, Namond, standing tall at the podium, sporting a suit, talking about something other than himself made me smile. And because in "Late Editions," we saw the first of probably many doors, closed in Michael's face and Dukie's future on the same smack Mike was pushing, the optimistic sun shining down on Namond and family as they walked to their towncar was especially rejuvenating.

Over at the Sun, Gus is doing a bit of police work himself. Or, as he calls it, "scratching an itch" named Scott Templeton. Given that the focus of this season was meant to be the press, and there are so many stones still unturned, I imagine I'll be able to spend a great deal more time next week investigating this sect of Baltimore myself. I'll say, for now, if the message we are to walk away with this season is that there are lying reporters and there are honest reporters, both in the lowest and highest ranks, this aspect of the show clearly failed to provide the quality the rest of series offered. One long episode can change that though, and I hope it does.

I feel the need to end with Bubbles. I'm sure you understand. His speech was the single best moment in The Wire, both in story and directing. That cut to the empty stairwell just before he said, "my people couldn't make it today," was perfect. It was a subtle and smart way of revealing, before he even said it, that there is hope, there are strong individuals, there are survivors. It's not cheesy, it's not a cliche: Bubbles did it alone and that's something to be applauded. As is Andre Royo, someone I hope has a big future in film (and something I'm sure Ryland and I will discuss in more detail in two weeks). That speech spoke to other characters on the show as well, both overtly, in that he was finally able to come to terms with the death of Sherod, and, more discreetly, "aint no shame in holdin' onto grief, as long as you can make room for other things too." That's about pride, about not having too much. That's about Jimmy losing Beadie, about Kima making a bad decision to tell on her partner and about Michael "not remembering" the ice cream truck. Bad shit is gonna happen to everyone, and thats important, its important to own that and know that, but its important to live on, we are not all islands, this is a city.


Fuck a re-up, son! -- Freamon



(PS -Fuck you Herc)



Deserve aint got nuthin' to do with it -- Snoop

The Monday Evening Wire. Just a Step Behind.Episode 58 "Clarifications"

cb sez -- Hey there fans of the Wire and friends of VINYL, I'm sorry to say there won't be a recap this week. I did watch the episode, I did love it, but I found myself even more in love with the idea of watching next week's directly following, (something I wasnt able to do, although I did call all of my buddies with On Demand).

Therefore, next week's episode 59 write-up will include this week's as well. If you need to read someone's opinion about last night really bad, here you go. I also took a couple pics from him. Thanks for reading.

The Monday Evening Wire. Just a Step Behind. Episode 57, "Took"

by Ryland Walker Knight

[A note: With Wire expert Cuyler Ballenger out of town this weekend (he’s gettin big in the Big Apple), I agreed to substitute on this episode’s weekly recap. I’ll do my best. But, without the aid of DVR, my recap will be from memory, and less precise. Wish me luck, and thanks for reading.]

As the episode started, my friends and I tried to remember: “Is this really the seventh episode of the season?” With this week’s lead segment (McNulty calling Templeton at The Sun masked as the serial killer behind a voice modulator), the snowball/redball case seems to be gaining speed in each successive episode. Of course, each episode is a step closer to the clink (or the grave?) for McNulty. Like Bunny Colvin before him, Jimmy “Bushy Top” McNulty will no longer be police at the end of this charade. And, like Bunny (again), McNulty knows his exit is near: somewhere in the middle of “Took” he pleads with Lester to get him “out of this shit.” Pick your metaphor — the pile grows higher; the ball keeps gaining speed — either way, you know there’s a big mess waiting in store in the end, at the finish line, when the clock stops.

But, as indicated by the lead quote of the episode, the real focus of “Took” happens to be the ongoing trial of Clay Davis: how Clay Davis continues to take from the city, how State’s Attorney Bond and ASA Pearlman got took in court. Employing Baltimore defense attorney Billy Murphy (a real B’more figure playing himself, renowned for his cunning courtroom smarts, and “a member of the city’s black aristocracy” according to Andrew Johnston), Davis has positioned himself (at least in the public eye of the show’s world of spectator-citizens, if not to us viewers) to play “not just the race card, but the whole deck,” as Gus Haynes says late in the episode: Murphy’s defense strategy appeals to the jury’s (and the courtroom’s) pathos by disregarding the logical facts offered in testimony by Freamon and Davis’ former limo driver. It’s all about the best argument. And Clay Davis uses his “silver tongue” to great effect on the stand, just as Murphy uses his wits to sidestep cross examining Freamon’s facts while tar-and-feather the limo driver’s honor in the following cross. They may not teach it in law school, but I’d hope all lawyers (especially all the “good” lawyers) understand this maxim from Billy Murphy’s website: “A trial lawyer who isn’t able to use the full spectrum of techniques has arbitrarily limited himself.”

This code of conduct seems to apply to everybody, though, not just (male) lawyers. Otherwise you’re going to eat the big lie and get took. The black humor joke here is that B’more is getting took by McNulty and Freamon as much (if not more so) than by Senator Davis. For all the fiscal good the redball they’ve concocted has done for their fellow officers, this rampant spending on a covert, illegal serial-killer-cum-wire-tap case may wind up costing teachers their jobs. Which, of course, would wind up costing more students the benefits of an education, of the means to be the next Billy Murphy or Daniels or Gus Haynes instead settling for the lot of becoming the next Michael or Avon or Omar or Marlo. (Remember that, despite his self-foreclosed end, Stringer went to school, too, and, even in the arena of the streets, his education helped him get bigger than he ever imagined.) So I hold out hope that Dukie will return to his best mentor ever, Prezbo, and get from the here of the streets to the there of the outside world (college? a job? a family?) instead of searching the help wanted ads on the corner. He’s got the brain to do it, even some motivation and support, but he doesn’t know who to ask for help. Or, he’s forgotten.

The big worry I had going into last week’s episode was McNulty had forgotten the widespread ramifications of his “project.” The dire final five minutes of “The Dickensian Aspect” helped assuage this fear, but McNulty’s OT glee confirmed he is of a one track mind. That is, until he realizes that “the problem with creating a redball is they start to treat it like a redball.” How fitting that Marlo communicates with Vondas using pictures of clocks: time is winding down. Not only that, time is jumbled. And not just in the coded messages between drug lords but also in the episode. “Took” could have taken place over the course of a week or the course of two days given the varied plot lines. For instance: Omar attacking during the daytime? Sure, I read that it was a scheduling foul up during the episode's production, but that’s a pretty risky move, a move inconsistent with Omar's (so-far) strictly nighttime raids (such as the arbitrary “you know what?” clipping of Savino). Or: did the Davis trial really only last that one day? Am I that lost? I guess the answer lies in the publication process of The Sun — specifically, the movement from McNulty’s harassment of Templeton to the publication of Templeton’s “To Walk Among Them,” with some time for Mike Fletcher to meet (and spend time with) Bubbles in between. First: it’s great to see Bubbles this positive, this joyful, even. Next: “That was him,” Templeton says, pausing before remembering to say, “again.” It’s great to see him twist and turn and Tom McCarthy is doing a great job with this weasel role. Will he fall next week? Or will his demise coincide with McNulty's in the finale? The cracks are evident to anybody looking (like, ahem, us), but who will shine that light? And: is Omar's apparent recklessness a sign of his downfall? Where was Marlo this week? Chris and Snoop? Always questions.

I guess all we have to do is wait to see how it plays. Which is why an episode like “Took” seems so hard to write a weekly recap about: a lot of the plot lines are get-me-by character moments. It’s almost a place-holder episode. But it’s a really good, almost delightful episode, too — especially as the tender “Goodnight Moon” closing shot, of Kima and Elijah saying good night to all of Baltimore, pulls back into the sepia summer night, all those bricks surrounding that family in miniature. There may be fiends and hoppers and hustlers but there’s a moon and a mom and a big wide world out that window, too. She’s saying, "Look, son, get the picture — the whole picture with every angle on where we are, where we live, in time and in tune — cuz we don’t want to get took. We want to live."


"They don't teach it in law school." -- Pearlman

The Monday Evening Wire. Just a Step Behind. Episode 56, "The Dickensian Aspect"

by Cuyler Ballenger

The first half of this season effectively made me not only not care, but not even want to watch what goes down in "the hall." But the timing of this series is always so spectacular, what with Super Tuesday and all, that the re-emegernce of the passionate Carcetti was not only necessary, but inspirational. In Obama-like fashion, Carcetti threw down on the mic(s), making a stand for those without a voice, those "who slipped through the cracks" of society, those homeless who are being picked off by a sick and twisted, uh... McNulty? And although the serial killer is (was never) real, and the speech was delivered out of a fit of rage, Carcetti cracked open a window looking in on Annapolis that he just may be able sneak through.

In (or rather out) another window, in a less publicized part of town, Omar is alive, though hurt, both physically and mentally. His crew is mostly dead and his leg mostly broken. I'm not sure how he will actually get to Marlo (no matter how fucking scary it is seeing him crying the whole hour). The thing about Omar is, and has always been, he's an idea as much as he's a dude. I mean where were those voices yelling "Omar's here, Omar's here!" in the middle of night when he blew up one of Marlo's black SUV's? It's like he's got a bunch of child-sirens walking the rooftops above him everywhere he goes. I'm not trying to say the show is losing its usually solid handle on "reality" -- not in the slightest -- just that my assumptions last week, about him being just another fool with a gun, may have been shortsighted. I wasn't raised in the streets, what the hell do I know about certain fellas like Mr. Little? If D. Simon is going to imbue Omar with some sort of transcendental killing ability, I, like Chris, will be aware and await his surge with open eyes.

Following the episode, Ryland said, "This is the first week I wish I had On Demand." I agreed. I'll have to wait and see, but the iNet tells me next week will leave us with the same sort of taste for more blood. Ryland (again) called Dickensian "dire," and, if I had to guess, it was those last five minutes (in the Richmond homeless clinic) of Jimmy watching that poor deranged man he's going to use to further his serial killer narrative that had Ryland use such a word. The almost inevitable ending of Jimmy, Freamon (and now Syndor) being investigated themselves is nerve-racking. The pace at which they have moved through the system illegally, from chomping corpses with fake teeth to tapping Marlo's cell (not to mention they're drinking the whole time) hasn't given them the opportunity to take a breath, a step back, and feel the weight they're trying to lift. That trip Jimmy takes, out of Baltimore into Richmond, not so unlike the trip Mike and Dukie took, removed him from this whole fiasco and let him see the hole he is, in fact, rapidly digging. It was an awkward ending, a conflicted feeling, but one that won't last as the final shot has Jimmy re-entering his cruiser to return to Baltimore and his mess.

In a strange way, Templeton is becoming almost, just maybe, likable? He is relentless: I mean, Jesus, the faces he makes when listening to a story that isn't quite juicy enough are hilarious. A couple weeks ago I thought the focus of the Sun was going to be Alma, and I was happy about that, but Templeton is good; he has the face of a liar, but kind of a redeeming smile. Somehow I despise him and feel for him simultaneously. This final season has a magnifying glass on the press, obviously, and in the past (most definitely last season), there was an argument made about that certain aspect of the city which was examined. With the schools, the argument was complicated: What does it mean to be a teacher, an educator, in a city (or part of a city) where most of the learning happens in the hours between after school and the next morning before it? How can relationships be formed that allow for these students to find refuge in the classroom and not make them feel like they are doing time? There was a success story in Namond. But it was mostly grim, as we were reminded this week with Randy's cameo. Seeing his thinned-out face sitting atop defined shoulders popping out of a beater, using language that sounded foreign coming out of his mouth was disappointing. Of course, only disappointing in that he was forced into his new role, that even off of the streets, the street mentality prevails. This sort of complicated view of what it means to be young in Baltimore was depressing, yes, but smart and intriguing (just like the actors who represented it). The argument about the press, the Sun specifically, up to this point is not just sort of simple, but somewhat uninteresting. I've come to realize this as each week when I sit down to think about this aspect of the show, it's the actors who are notable. Clark Johnson (Gus), Michelle Paress (Alma) and Tom McCarthy (the above-noted Templeton) are easy to watch, and they are often funny, but what they represent as the press, as reporters, really, is still as muddled as it was in Week One. It would be great if, in the coming weeks, we were given something solid to wrestle with about the role of the small-time paper -- either in general, or in its struggle to stay afloat in the age of picture messages.

Shit (read: like Clay Davis would say it), picture message upper-hand be damned, Marlo is crazy! I don't even know what he's about anymore, other than he's wearing a figurative crown, I think; now he's in control of the West and East sides, I think; and he's seen Spiderman. The Wire has always done well to prove that nothing lasts on the street except the game. Gangstas die young because power is mishandled constantly, but the drugs keep coming. Marlo has earned some enemies, but, oddly enough, aside from Omar, none seem to have any idea how to do anything about it. I'm of course neglecting Jimmy and Lester, who, in a weird (and unknown to the competitors) race, may beat Omar and whoever else to taking that crown off Omar's dome. Nevertheless, in the (final) co-op meeting, Marlo made it clear that he doesn't do this: he doesn't "meet: Anyone got a problem from here on out, bring it to me, or sit on that shit." Marlo's issue with the meetings, and Joe himself, was always that they weren't "doing" anymore, they just talk, like they lost focus of what is important. Joe and Stringer and a handful of others in the meetings were, in a sense, using drugs to clean up their act, to buy real estate or something. Marlo doesn't see the world that way, I think. Being the king of the street is his ticket to being the king of streets, only. He works hard at it and when he's killed (or arrested), for he will eventually be killed (or arrested), Daniels won't find a paper a trail.


"If you have a problem with this, I understand completely." -- Freamon

The Monday Evening Wire. Just a Step Behind. Episode 55, "React Quotes"

by Cuyler Ballenger

There was a sort serene glow to last night's Baltimore: something oddly peaceful about the light, a sort of calm after the storm that was the previous two weeks. Vondas brought a newly crowned Marlo up to speed on the alternate functions of a cell phone as birds chirped in the trees above them. Mr. Stanfield smiled as he and Chris walked triumphantly away from the meeting, a bright sun shining down on them both. It was equally strange to see Marlo's teeth as it was to be introduced to a family Chris was never known to have. As his son waved goodbye to him from their front yard, Chris let his girl know that he's gonna be gone for a couple weeks, "that's all it should be," says Marlo, and, "it better be," Chris responded. As last night's episode strolled along, we're at the halfway point in this final season, I, too, remembered there is only weeks left, and I questioned my previous thought, "It's not calm at all is it? Only the eye of the storm." The quick pace of "React Quotes" was deceiving. There were none of the deafening silences as Marlo or Snoop stared into the eyes of their latest victims, no shots of a young boy with post-trauma blankness, and no difficult confrontations between a cracked-out mother and her hardened son. Rather, this week moved at a speed indicative of the show's comfort. Plot lines developed, seriousness and hilarity walked hand in hand. Tensions and anticipations of what is to come are perfectly high.

The Wire is a show that, in my mind, at least in retrospect, I always see as happening at night. All the sunshine and t-shirts in "React Quotes" masked well an episode that offered so much more than simply reactions to the last two weeks. McNulty and Freamon were seemingly able to make progress on their "case," getting overtime (though limited) and a wire tap on Marlo's cell. Maury, and, in fact, Herc and Carver, all saw great opportunities in holding that same number. But they were all just a step behind Vondas, who, whether he was conscious of it or not, provided Marlo with the means of communication perfect for his style -- no talking -- therefore no interruptions, no middle men -- strictly business via email. What the effect of the now-insignificant tap on Marlo's phone will be is unclear, though the future of Jimmy's "long con" is most likely in jeopardy. (Although the two exchanges between Jimmy and Templeton, first at the bar, then at the Sun, were smart and hilarious, it's important to remember he's been drunk the whole fucking season. Bunk on the other hand, is exercising an unusual sobriety in his attempts to dissuade the crazed McNulty).

Omar is definitely back! But his short time away saw a dramatic change in the streets, and the final shootout of last night's episode positioned him in an entirely foreign territory; he was not only outgunned and out-manned, Omar was caught by surprise. After last week's "Transitions," my buddy said, "I'm not sure why he (Omar) should be feared anymore -- he's just got a gun like every other person Snoop and Chris killed before." And I do somewhat agree now. What separated Omar from his counterparts in the past was his ability to know what was going down before it does, to be prepared, to be the aggressor. Chris and Snoop, like their boss, are workers now, with a certain understanding of the game they didn't have before. I can recall a poignant scene from early in Season 4 when a package was delivered to the old corner store that Fat-Face Andre owned and ran. Outside, Kima and Sydnor watched the delivery; but behind the two detectives, Omar sat, in his van, watching the watchers. That level of removal (and resultant, advantageous vantage point) is no longer available to him -- and his main sources of information (Butchie and Joe) are, well, you know. With his new right hand man Donnie (who we know from Omar's brief stint in the joint last season) wearing a bullet between his eyes (and will miss now), and Omar's own miraculous four story fall, his revenge may, in fact, go unrealized.

The interruption of Dukie's and Bug's father-son conversation by the hateful and pathetic Kenard set in motion a string of events that I (and Ry Knight) believe (hope) will lead to a Prezbo spot in this season. Boxing and shooting proved (thank God) hopeless for Dukie, and his question to "Mr Dennis" Cutty, "like, how do you get from here to the rest of world?" couldn't be answered by someone who only knows the ring and the corner. The constant references to Dukie's brain being his ticket off the street will hopefully register in the quickly-maturing (and growing!) young guy. And though his role in Bug's life is no doubt preferred to corner, he seems uncomfortable no matter where he is. A sad truth easily attributed to his lack of ever having a place in his own home. The sweet, but somewhat ambiguous, re-emergence of Bubbles may have been the only lagging part of the episode. I'm not so sure what his unfinished story is attempting to communicate. Walon tells him, after revealing to him a negative result on a blood test, that it's important to not attribute false significance to the past, but to understand his healthy future to be just that. If that is to be the only message transmitted through such an incredible character, I might end up feeling a bit short changed. Conversely, if I really listen to what it is Walon is saying, I might just accept that Bubbles is not that tour-de-force (of conflicted morality) he once was, and just accept the potentially anti-climactic, though successful, bow-out D. Simon is offering him.

I hate to think Marlo basking in the sun of his own glory is anything even semi-permanent, but seeing him fall like Clay Davis is about to appears rather unlikely. Again, and most likely for another couple weeks, I'm forced to end on a note of blind anticipation as it would be a push to make an argument for the entire season (and all 5 seasons really) just yet. That day will come, though, with a promised series-ending blogged-out conversation with my editor-in-chief that we should make good on. For now, I'd say this week, while not as immediately striking as the two preceding it, was the best of the three. It proved that this show can move through daytime with as much grace as it trudges through those seemingly endless street-lit nights, privileging nothing except that "things happen," when they are clear as summer or as reticent, raspy (and somehow spritely?) as Snoop's voice -- and that it's our duty as citizen-watchers to pay attention to The Wire's Baltimore.



"Just 'cause they're in the street
doesn't mean they lack opinion."
-- Haynes
[Note: All apologies to AJ and MZS for stealing their pix.]

The Monday Evening Wire. Just a Step Behind. Episode 54, "Transitions"

by Cuyler Ballenger

The M.O. within city hall, which in turn trickles down to the schools and the police station and the Sun papers, is quite clear at this point: everyone needs to do "more with less." In The Wire's final, 10-episode season (one considerably shorter than the past four), the show itself has been forced to do this as well. The street though -- well, obviously -- doesn't work like those other institutions no matter how many parallels are drawn between them. I didn't pick up on this the first three episodes; in fact, I sort of saw the show creating this mantra for all aspects of Baltimore (including the streets). "More with less" really isn't the case always, as last night's episode revealed. Marlo and Joe are filthy rich, they have huge crews and, in a sense, run their shares of the city. Marlo is even trying to make his money get smaller. I don't mean to say the street is working in an opposite fashion as city hall, though, as that would be an equal parallel, just in the other direction. They are, simply, different. And I have to say that I'm feeling really rattled writing this (whether for purely personal reasons or, in fact, because of the show, I don't quite know). Snoop, leaning back on her car tapping a gun on her chin, as she stands over an elder co-op member shitting himself, tied up and crying, is such a horrible image, but it goes almost forgotten in the shadow of Marlo's close-up as he watches Joe's blown-out head fall to the table: wouch!

On the street, the popular phrase has been something like "Joe ain't Marlo" or "Marlo ain't like Joe." Last night, one of the few lines the resurrected Greek delivered said as much. The phrase is true, sure, but what sort of morality does it set up for the the show? Why did I feel so sad when Prop Joe closed his eyes, slightly trembling? Why do I get so excited to watch Omar catch a shotgun and say, "Sweet Jesus, I'ma work them!"? The questions are mainly rhetorical, but they do have answers. Suffice it to say, just raising these questions is a victory for the show itself. Prop Joe supplies drugs to the whole fucking city: Michael's mom (who shared in another devastating scene last night) and Bubbles suffer because of him; Joe is responsible for the corners, the killings, Dukie's family! There are no good guys on the street, Bodie included. As despicable as he is, Colicchio opens the show with a statement that rings true (at least after re-looking at this episode, more numbly), "fuck it, they're all dirty anyway."

In an effort to not take on that sort of boring, narrator voice, which I so quickly and easily acquire when I start to summarize, I won't summarize, as it wouldn't do last night's (and hopefully the rest of the) episode(s) justice. The final scene saw Joe offer his final proposition, one that was not accepted -- not even acknowledged actually -- and that "means something," as he says himself. Marlo is sick of hearing people talk, Omar is sick of Marlo doing that, and Jimmy and Freamon are sick of all of it. "Transitions" was about doing, not planning. It was an episode about taking action, from the bottom up. Templeton is a hack, yes, but he's ready to work for the Sun, now that he knows he has to. Burrell was finally fired, Daniels promoted. Jimmy and Freamon got the body they needed, and they did what they had to with it, hoping (always hoping) to re-open their case on Marlo. Carver earned his title as sergeant, and had to make the sacrifices that that step up required.

And Kima set up a day with her ex, which allowed her to see her "nephew." (This is one aspect of the episode I do want kind of summarize though, as it was truly important). As Kima watched the young boy, who's family was slaughtered in front of him, stare lifelessly into a block of Legos, last season was somehow revisited. In that young boy we saw everything that The Wire tells us can be lost. In the classrooms last season, amongst all these kids, so many of them cute and bright, the touching scenes were the ones that portrayed them as purely children. Times when they had either been alleviated from the pressures of their socio-economic situation, or had simply forgotten, and they would smile and clown on each other. (Something like the Six Flags scenes last week, but even more effective because they were in a classroom when they were "supposed" to be). I thought, "Shit, this kid is gonna be another Omar," which is what I'm sure most people were thinking then, and throughout most of last season about various other students. But re-inserting that type of scene, which surely elicits those same types of emotions, in an episode where such an ugly killing (I thought last week's was tough) ended the episode, was especially affective. It made me want to call my little brother (of 12) and smile just as Kima did. The stripping away of all things fun, all things youthful, is the corners' most effective killing mechanism. The kids aren't kids, and haven't been for a long time. Shit, Marlo is young himself, but when Joe tells him Cheese was a fuck-up and that, "I always treated you as a son," Marlo effectively made clear what his childhood was like and the role the streets gave him: "I wasn't made to play the son."

While "Transitions" was a most fitting title for last night, I find it mostly scary that it wasn't (rather won't be) the title for the last episode of the season. This was a week, like most weeks I guess, where evil trumps good. What made this week different, though, is that there was a lot of good. Daniels and Carver (and, while dirty-ish, Freamon, too) are the policemen B-More needs. Alma, while entirely inexperienced, is an honest and ambitious writer, one that understands how a newspaper should work. And, as I just said above, Kima may re-unite with the family she never should have neglected. Most of the transitions, though, were ones that terrify people, changes that further kill an already dying Baltimore. Hopefully the last episode won't treat B-More like Marlo handled Joe. But it probably will. After all, its a good show.


"Buyer's market out there" --Templeton