Hot off "The Wire"

Whither McNulty? Does Marlo walk? Was that a surprise cameo? Join us as we discuss the series finale

By Salon staff

Read more: Arts & Entertainment, Arts & Entertainment TV Features

March 10, 2008 |

Havrilesky:"It does have a certain charm to it. They manufactured an issue to get paid. We manufactured an issue to get you elected governor. Everybody's gettin' what they need behind some make-believe." -- Norman Wilson

And so one elaborate game of make-believe ends, and another one begins. In that first scene of the finale, when Carcetti and Daniels and Rawls and Pearlman are all speechless, cringing and staring at their feet, and then Wilson cracks up? That's when we know that this last chapter may have a lighter ending than we expected. In fact, after a brutal season where it looked like everyone would be going straight to hell, our favorites have been largely spared: McNulty and Freamon retire and forgive Greggs, McNulty looks ready to be a good husband and an upstanding citizen again, now that he's no longer haunted by his work (I guess I was wrong about police work being his reason to live!), Carcetti is elected governor with that sleazy Rawls as his State Police Superintendent, Daniels leaves the force and becomes a lawyer again, Pearlman becomes a judge, Bubbles gets a job, stays clean, and joins his sister at the dinner table, and Donald gets a ride home to Baltimore with McNulty. Cut to the Baltimore skyline, and that smooth first-season theme song.

It's true that the kids on the street are facing a less promising fate, but hey, this is no Disney movie: Dukie is the new Bubbles, shooting up junk and hitting up a disappointed Prez for cash, and Michael is the new Omar, sticking up Vincent and his two men. But weren't you afraid that was Dukie, sprawled out dead on the pavement in that quick scene where Greggs and Bunk are back on the job? And isn't it a little tough to feel all that sad for Michael, since he could've just as easily ended up killed by Snoop or stuck working for Marlo indefinitely? Because we love Omar, we're privately thrilled to see Michael try to fill his shoes.

While there's something to be said for the freeze-frame ending of "The Sopranos," I love that David Simon and Ed Burns and the other writers delivered a truly satisfying, clear-cut finale. Even with Marlo out of jail, Levy continuing his evil deeds, Templeton winning prizes and Rawls riding Carcetti's bullshit train to the statehouse, anything less would feel like a lie. At least we got to see Cheese hit the ground, with even less fanfare than Omar.

I'm really going to miss this world and the unnervingly authentic characters who lived in it, from the most malevolent to the most kind-hearted. I'll miss greedy Stringer Bell and idealistic Bunny Colvin and earnest Bubs and world weary McNulty and courageous Omar. I feel lucky to have spent time in David Simon's Baltimore. We'll all feel even luckier if one day we stumble on another show with half of the intelligence, integrity, and soul of "The Wire."

Manjoo: I'm with you, Heather. This was a hell of show, and it was a hell of an ending, and I'll miss it much. Having every character fall back into other characters' old routines was a nice touch. In giving up the crown, is Marlo the new Stringer? Is Sydnor, in complaining to Judge Phelan about the brass, the new McNulty? And Kennard sure does look like he'll be the new Marlo, no? New players, but the game goes on.

"The Wire"'s season-ending montages have always been my favorite scenes (but while we're at it, my favorite "Wire" sequence of all time was the bit near the end of Season 2 where Frank Sobotka marches to his fatal meeting with the Greeks; the music there, by Greek crooner Stelios Kazantzidis, is mesmerizing. Watch it here.)

This episode's montage was fine, even if not especially emotionally forceful and a tad too pat. That's how you wrap things up, I suppose. Bubbles finally getting to go up there with his sister, a scene that lasts on screen at most five seconds, was as nice as things were ever going to get in "The Wire." I'll take it. Also, too, Jay Landsman eulogizing McNulty; man, I love that fellow and his way with words.

But can we erase from our memories the entire Baltimore Sun storyline, pretend it never sullied an otherwise excellent show? In your interview with him, Heather, Simon defends the thing mightily. He puts forward a nice line -- that the real point of the newspaper sequence was to show that the paper misses every big story in the city. And sure, the show does suggest that here and there (though, interestingly, it's saintly Gus who often goofs -- he tells Alma to bury the Prop Joe story and to forget about Omar.)

But if that was really his argument, Simon might have played the point up in the show. Instead, what we get in "The Wire"'s portrayal of the Sun is a lot of screen time for Scott Templeton.

This show means to convince you that the gravest problem facing American newspapers is reporters who make stuff up, and Pulitzer-hungry editors who protect them. That argument is plainly ridiculous: There are many forces arrayed against newspapers -- the Internet, TV, talk radio, Wall Street's expectations, shoddy management -- but if no fabulist had ever gotten near a newsroom, the press would still face a dire future.

In the end the entire Sun story feels out of place with the rest of the show. When "The Wire" strayed into the ports and the schools, we saw those worlds connect with the show's larger plot and its theme. But the Sun is nearly divorced from everything else on "The Wire" (nearly: we do get the front-page piece on Bubbles, and there's that delicious showdown between Templeton and McNulty).

So that's David Simon's point: Once-great city newspapers no longer have much of anything to do with the cities they cover. Thanks, but that's not exactly news to anyone.

Miller: Farhad! I'm so thrilled that someone else shares my favorite sequence from "The Wire," the final walk of Frank Sobotka! For me, Sobotka was the most perfect tragic figure in the entire series, because everything he did was for entirely noble reasons (to preserve the brotherhood of the stevedores and to protect his men and their families) and yet it destroyed him, and his idiot son (how great a character was Ziggy?) and still the union went down.

The biggest problem with the Sun story for me was not its lack of verisimilitude but its lack of moral nuance. All of the show's great characters had this -- if they were "bad guys", you might still admire their courage (Snoop) or drive (Stringer), and if they were "good guys," they were always deeply flawed, too. But Scott and the fawning higher-ups had no redeeming qualities, and Gus was a saint. Ultimately, they just were never that interesting.

I loved this ending, for not being a "fuck you" to the audience, even though I never cared enough about "The Sopranos" to mind about the black-out. It was a salt-of-the-earth, newspaperman's ending, one that acknowledges that we want to know how this, that and the other turned out, and Simon & Co. doesn't get all snooty about our desire for old-fashioned closure. The two big question marks are, of course, McNulty and Marlo. I watched with Sarah, and we debated whether Jimmy would turn P.I. or (wouldn't you love this?) reporter. Well, that last option is a long shot, I guess, after what he's seen of the sausage-making in the person of Scott. Marlo, I'm guessing, will be scooped up by the cops sooner or later, as Rhonda promised. He can't be the new Stringer Bell; he can't stay in a room long enough for that. Stringer was a born CEO who just happened to get born into the ghetto, but Marlo is a warlord. Let me ask you, though: if Marlo can't get the game out of his system (and after banking a cool fortune, too), why should we expect McNulty to stay away?

It's not a happy ending, though, is it? Just one that pulls far back enough to invite a weary acceptance. There's a new McNulty and a new Omar and a new Bubbles. Nothing has changed, really. I think the most sublime (if pitch black) comedy the series has ever exhibited comes when Cheese is making that speech about "There ain't no back in the day. Ain't no nostalgia. Just the street and the game" -- spelling out the theme of the entire series -- and then BLAM! And all anyone cares about is that the co-op is short $900,000! In some ways, that's the real ending of this magnificent, uncompromising piece.

Next page: Hey -- was that a Hitchcock-like cameo?