The journalists portrayed on "The Wire" might seem a little bit exaggerated at first: The dedicated editor, Gus Haynes (Clark Johnson), demands full names for sources (More reporting! More details! More fact-checking!) while a frustrated reporter uses his powers of imagination to invent a "react quote," Stephen Glass-style. A hard-nosed, seasoned crime reporter with an encyclopedic knowledge of the inner workings of the city is laid off, while the higher-ups act out their best "Times are tough!" head-shaking laments, repeating team-building clichés to sell the troops the agenda of their corporate bosses. All of which would feel more than a little stark and over the top if it weren't so hauntingly familiar to anyone who's worked in a corporate office.
"The Wire" can be difficult to watch, without a doubt. During the earlier seasons, when drug lords Avon Barksdale and Stringer Bell ruled the West Side, there were plenty of heartless, disturbing acts all around: Barksdale could be ruthless in defending his honor; Bell could be ruthless in protecting the supply and demand of his entrepreneurial empire. But both characters had regrets and souls and were charismatic enough that we sometimes cheered them on in spite of ourselves, Tony Soprano-style. But the current kingpin of the West Side, Marlo Stanfield (Jamie Hector), is another case altogether: He's evil, plain and simple. He seems to have no feelings, which gives him the freedom to rule without regard for anyone. We never see him enjoy anything -- he doesn't seem to take much satisfaction when he wields more power, when he one-ups his foes, and he's not guided by any principles at all. He takes revenge for minor slights or makes strategic kills without the vaguest hint of regret. And watching his two careless, soulless assassins Chris and Snoop in action is like watching an infant play with a nuclear triggering device.
What is Marlo up against? A wildly dysfunctional police department that has no budget and is staffed by angry, disheartened officers who haven't been paid for overtime in weeks as the fifth season opens. The continuing investigations by detectives Lester Freamon (Clarke Peters) and Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West) are threatened, driving them to take desperate measures to make sure they're not shut down just when they're getting close to nailing Marlo. Even as Daniels rises in the ranks of the police department, there's an uneasy feeling in the air, reflected in the self-interested caution of his ex-wife, who's always been looking out for her own career on the City Council, and the possibly slightly self-serving elation of his current girlfriend, assistant state attorney Rhonda Pearlman (Deirdre Lovejoy).
Marlo's biggest threat may come from Omar (Michael Kenneth Williams), a vigilante who seems to represent the reckless but still principled justice of those unconstrained by a poisoned bureaucratic system. Omar may be one of the most moving characters ever created for the small screen: He's a killer who follows a strict code, has undying loyalty to his closest allies, and ruthlessly hunts down his foes. He's smart, scary and unabashedly open about his homosexuality. Omar embodies the rage and frustration of this broken city, and only Omar has the freedom to kick ass and take names with impunity -- at least until he's taken down by one of his countless enemies. Even though that seems inevitable in the show's final season, loyal viewers may have the biggest investment in seeing Omar survive. As the city falls to pieces over and over, only a criminal like Omar can remain uncorrupted and heroic in his own twisted way.
If you've been putting off renting the first four seasons of "The Wire," now's the time to do it. If you've been looking forward to the return of this breathtaking show for a long time, you won't be disappointed. Once again, Simon does the impossible. He takes themes we've heard a million times -- our politicians are corrupt, our schools are failing our kids, our newspapers are being raped by corporate overlords -- and he gracefully, subtly realizes them onscreen. We don't see big explosions of emotion or melodrama, we watch as individual lives unravel, slowly but surely. "The Wire" is, at its heart, a TV show for disillusioned romantics and world-weary intellectuals with soft, chewy centers: The ideals and emotional groundwater of each scene may be passionate and melodramatic, but it all plays out in restrained, nuanced exchanges. If characters wept openly or delivered big, flashy monologues, as they do on pretty much every other drama on the air, their pain would feel predictable to us. Instead, they grimace a little or frown, but we know that their whole lives are hanging in the balance. They leave room for us in the scene, and our hearts break on cue.
Clash of the War Gladiators
But enough about idealistic heroes and fallen cities and the best show on TV. It's time to get to the really important stuff: Stunt Television.
This is the game-show, TV-event, splashy reality rabbit hole that we've all been falling down since the new episodes of scripted shows ran out and the WGA strike laid waste to the TV schedule. Instead of giving off the slightest whiff of defeat, the networks have cheerfully soldiered forward with steely-jawed fortitude, shrugging off their hemorrhaging schedules as a mere flesh wound. Who needs "Grey's Anatomy" or "Heroes" when you've got "Clash of the Choirs" and "American Gladiators" and "1 vs. 100'" and "Make Me a Supermodel" and a hasty, premature retreat to the "Big Brother" house?
Of course, no real talent is required to make Stunt Television happen. All you need is a perky host, a well-prepped fraudience, some humans who aspire to do something or other, and a constant, nagging reminder that the audience will decide who wins! Hurray! The audience just loves to decide stuff!
Take "Clash of the Choirs." For four consecutive nights on NBC, we watched (OK, fine -- I watched) as Nick Lachey, Michael Bolton, Kelly Rowland (of Destiny's Child) and Patti LaBelle, among others, recruited choir members from their home cities, then directed them as they performed onstage. The resulting entertainment was pretty mediocre, really, except for Patti LaBelle's choir. Patti LaBelle's choir was spectacular. Aided, in true diva style, by a phalanx of creative associates, LaBelle chose exceptional singers, she picked out strong, bold songs for them to sing, and they were truly incredible. While Lachey's amateurish choir rehashed chorus-geek classics with ultra-dorky choreography, and Bolton's choir cheesed it up, LaBelle's choir owned the stage. At one point, LaBelle herself performed "Somewhere over the Rainbow" with them, and it brought the house down. The other choir leaders shook their heads and all but conceded defeat.
In the end, it was down to LaBelle and Lachey. Who would win? The startlingly talented, inspiring Patti LaBelle, who brought tears to the eyes of her choir members every time they were asked to comment on their experiences working with her? Or washed-up teenybopper and reality star Nick Lachey?
You guessed it! Thanks, no doubt, to his steady appearances in crappy celebrity magazines, Nick Lachey beat Patti LaBelle. Which was sort of like holding a slam-dunk contest, inviting Michael Jordan, Allen Iverson, Vince Carter and Grant Hill to compete, and then letting a bunch of teenage girls from across America vote for Jamie Lynn Spears to be the winner.
The moral to our story? Bad things happen when America votes. Happy election year, chickens!
About the writer
Heather Havrilesky is Salon's TV critic. She also maintains the rabbit blog. You can find more of her columns in the I Like To Watch directory.
Related Stories
Everything you were afraid to ask about "The Wire"
Need a primer for quite possibly the best show on television?
Beyond good and evil in Baltimore
HBO's morally complex, richly textured series "The Wire" is not just the best thing on TV -- it's a Homeric epic of modern America.
"What drugs have not destroyed, the war on them has"
David Simon, creator of the searing new HBO series "The Wire," on why even the best cop shows are phony and our anti-drug mania amounts to a permanent war against the underclass.
The best TV show of all time
"The Sopranos" vs."The Wire": Two Salon critics duke it out over which series is the greatest ever.
Story finder (3 ways to search Salon)
Salon Directory (browse by topic)