Some spoilers ahead.
When season one of The Wire came to an end, I’m sure many fans were wondering where the show could possibly go after the season finale, which seemed to wrap things up pretty nicely. There was no “The Chinese have kidnapped Jack Bauer!” cliffhanger and no real extraneous threads that would suggest a great longevity. Yes, the ending of season one was hardly a happy, fulfilling one in the normal sense—though quite fulfilling in the artistic sense—but it’s hard to keep a show going when you put a good chunk of your characters behind bars or working crap jobs. As a solution, David Simon and his collaborators decided to approach the new season as they would each subsequent season: bring back all the old characters, but throw in about 20 new ones as well. Where the first season was essentially an extraordinarily-done cop drama, each season would introduce the audience to a new aspect of the constantly-deteriorating Baltimore, and how the drug trade affects every nook and cranny of the city.
With the arenas of politics, education and journalism still unexplored, I find it curious that The Wire decided to start its aggressive expansion with the trials and tribulations of Baltimore dockworkers. It’s not that this is an unimportant/uninteresting group of people, but suddenly being asked to care about these seemingly unrelated—and frankly, sometimes uninteresting—blue-collar workers was a little bit jarring out of the gate. I had known going in that The Wire would become about more than a few cops and the Barksdale organization, but the show’s usual “everything is connected” mentality frequently seemed strained in the early going. In the first season (and later ones) every scene is compelling because we know it affects—be it directly or indirectly—the livelihoods of everyone else involved.
Perhaps this is why the pace of first half or so of season two seems especially glacial even by The Wire standards. For a while, nothing really seems to be gaining any traction, and some of the actors chosen to play the dock workers weren’t all that convincing. Chris Bauer—who plays Frank Sobotka, one of the union figureheads—was mostly good, but the actor who plays his nephew Nick (Pablo Schreiber) always seemed a little too Ben Affleck-y to believe. Rarely was it distracting, and he nails some of the more emotional moments down the stretch, but he just never clicked with me. Another problem for me was the character of Ziggy Sobotka, who easily goes toward the top of my list of the most continually infuriating television characters of all time. I guess that’s the point, and in that case actor James Ransone does a good job. But we’re talking about a person who can do nothing but make precisely the wrong decision every time he’s onscreen. He’s an idiot, plain and simple. It’s impossible to root for him. When he winds up in jail, the logical reaction is “well, duh.”
That said, I give the second season of The Wire a great deal of credit for absolutely nailing the landing. Even when I was finding the early episodes hard to get into, I could see that wherever it was going it was going to be pretty terrific. Indeed, the last few episodes are positively gripping, and depressing in that special The Wire way. Thus far, each season has been able to end on just about a perfect balance of positive and negative; the year always ends with a small, fleeting victory for the police but the long view is just as bleak as it ever was. It all adds up to The Wire’s ultimate statement on the war on drugs: you’re never going to win if you keep doing things the same way.
And lo and behold! That segues beautifully into the overall theme of The Wire’s third season: reform, and all the obstacles that stand in its way. As great as the second half of season two was, I never really felt like the story elevated itself past mere entertainment. Intelligent and dense entertainment, yes, but mere entertainment nonetheless. Other seasons of The Wire feel like they belong to a specific time and place; a story that could only be told in Baltimore yet resonates everywhere with everyone. Too often the dock-centric material of season two felt like it could have been part of any movie or television show. On its own it’s good stuff, but it doesn’t necessarily align itself with the normal Wire sensibilities.
Season three, however, returns The Wire to the more focused—yet equally expansive—greatness of its first season. In a rather brilliant move, the first episode begins with all of our favorite PO-lice officers already midway through an investigation into the Barksdale organization. Instead of starting everything up from square one again (which was one of the most frustrating aspects of season two), we enter this new year at full speed. Where the second season had each character begin at their lowest point, season three places them right where they want to be at the outset. It’s not as if the show doesn’t take its time like normal, but season three wisely skips any obvious build-up. Instead, it spends its time telling wholly new stories on top of the old ones, including an introduction to the politicians of Baltimore. In particular there is Tommy Carcetti (Aidan Gillen), a city councilman who wants to become mayor. One problem: he’s a white guy in a primarily black city. They tend to not get a ton of votes. He spends the season trying to figure out how best to change the minds of the city’s voters.
In politics and life the main mentality seems to be this: the status quo sucks, but the unknown is even scarier. The third season of The Wire is mostly about people trying to do things a different way, but few others are willing to give these ideas the time of day. Within the Barksdale organization, an old-school vs. new-school conflict is brewing. When Avon (Wood Harris) is released from prison—much to the chagrin of our friends in the major crimes unit—he is anxious to get back to business as usual. Yet Stringer Bell (Idris Elba) has decided to take a less aggressive approach to “the game.” This leaves an opening for the young, brutal Marlo Stanfield (Jamie Hector) to gain some power on the corners. Avon wants to start a war, but Stringer is trying to keep the game more cooperative. When Stringer is finally shot dead by Omar (Michael K. Williams, who is still awesome as ever, thank you very much) the more progressive way of thinking dies with him. The Barksdale crew is convinced that Stanfield is behind the hit, and this almost turns Baltimore into a battlefield. But it’s the cops who intervene at the last second and essentially take down Barksdale with a single raid. Suddenly, the whole town belongs to Marlo. And he’s not one of the more compassionate men out there.
The boldest example of failed reform in The Wire comes courtesy of Major Howard Colvin (Robert Wisdom), who is on the brink of retirement. In an attempt to get the crime stats down—and perhaps tame some of the violent conflict—he designates several “free zones.” In these areas, drugs can be dealt without fear of the consequences. There are police down there, but they simply choose to look the other way. A community begins to come together in the area (dubbed “Hamsterdam”), and police like Ellis Carver (Seth Gilliam) are actually quite fond of what they see. Still, Colvin’s experiment is not met with a smile for one simple reason: he legalized drugs. In the midst of an alleged “war” on such things, this is not an acceptable option. Ultimately, Colvin is shamed for his efforts. This is a world where everybody wants things to change, but the one man who actually tries something is ultimately persecuted and hung out to dry.
The only real attempt at change that proves moderately successful is that of Dennis “Cutty” Wise (Chad Coleman), a former soldier that is released from a 14-year prison sentence. When he comes out, he initially starts working for Barksdale… until he realizes that his heart isn’t in the game anymore. As an alternative, he opens a boxing gym for the local boys. Not only will it give him an opportunity to live a cleaner life, but perhaps he can change the lives of the corner boys for the better as well. The trouble is that not all of them show up, particularly once Barksdale is put behind bars again. The kids begin working for Stanfield, and Cutty is left with an empty gym. You can try to change things all you want—be it in government or on the streets—but people will still find a way to keep things the way they were.
Throughout the first two seasons, I think The Wire was still trying to figure out exactly what it was. But as soon as season three began, the show hit a roll that wouldn’t really let up until the end. (I have finished season 4, but that will get its own post soon enough.) Methinks there’s a reason the show cast the dockworkers aside but proceeded to keep all the other characters moving forward; they don’t wholly connect with what the show normally does. It is more about how those in power seek to change the city of Baltimore for the better, only to be disillusioned or stonewalled in the process. Even if you’re able to take down an entire drug-dealing organization, there’s going to be another one ready to take the crown. In the case of The Wire, this new organization makes the old guys look like The Wiggles.
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