”The Wire” recap: The liars collide
Shuh-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeat. So said the embattled Sen. Clay Davis in the line of the night. How not to picture the cast and crew collapsing into high fives and hurrahs after cut was called? Davis’ signature line has long been a favorite of mine, which I’ve badly imitated for the last several years after I’ve had one too many beers. This though, as Davis lashed out at his perceived persecutors, was the most operatic, shoot-for-the-rafters sheeeeet we’ve gotten yet. A nice bell ringing for sure, as the energy and momentum leapt into another gear. It’s usually around the fifth episode of every season of The Wire that the story lines fully take off for me, and that I finally start grooving to the current artist’s take on the opening song. Steve Earle, you’ve won me over.
Marlo met with the Greek to inform him of poor Prop Joe’s demise and then, after silkily telling Chris that ”the man overcame his grief,” suggested he and his heavy head for Atlantic City to celebrate. Was this a joke? Does Marlo ever cut loose from his languid, dead-eyed slink around his city? An overdue tip of the hat to actor Jamie Hector, who has created a wholly new type of villain. His Marlo is so cool he’s nearly catatonic, the adrenaline and ambition that obviously surge through his evil veins kept to a low boil. Chris opted to lie low, taking Marlo on a quick detour so that the killer could wave a little bunny in his daughter’s face. Chris has kids? Chris has kids! And a girlfriend who seemed markedly unimpressed by her man’s announcement that he wouldn’t be coming around for a while. Marlo’s crew knew Omar was coming for them, and they all looked like skittish rabbits as they tried to save their asses by setting a trap for him.
I pined last week like a little baby for Carver and Randy to end up happily ever after, and one of you similarly sensitive commenters said that you wish for a tender, make-everything-better reunion for Prez and Dukie. Well, we’ve yet to see Prez, but Cutty, sporting a newly shaved do, showed up and took the wounded Dukie under his strong wing. Poor Dukie, so ridiculed on the streets. ”Can’t fight, can’t shoot, can’t even stand on the damn corner,” he said to Michael. After a boy Bug’s size hurled an orange soda bottle at his back, Dukie tried standing up for himself but got the crap beat out of him. I moaned like a cat in the backseat on the way to the vet watching that boy get kicked and pummeled.
Eager for his friend to toughen up, Michael dropped him at Cutty’s ring for a little training, but Dukie was just a noodle in gloves. Like Prez before him, Cutty tried to impress upon the boy that there is more to life than the corner. ”The world is bigger than that, at least that’s what they tell me,” he said. With that kind of philosophizing, he really must meet Lester for a drink. ”How do you get from here to the rest of the world?” asked Dukie, giving voice to the question that maybe best sums up the five seasons of The Wire, a question our stumping politicians ought to be wrestling with every night as they go to sleep. ”Wish I knew,” said Cutty.
If these two ever do find the answer, let them please share it with Bubbles. Our still-sober man finally nutted up and went to the clinic to get tested for HIV, and the negative results sent him into a shame-fueled tailspin. He still doesn’t seem to think his sheeet is worth saving. Bubbles, buddy, hang in there. Grab your shopping cart, throw Dukie and Bug in with a couple sandwiches from the soup kitchen, and wheel your ass outta Baltimore.
At the paper, Scott tried again to act like a real reporter for about a half a day. After he and Alma met with McNulty to coax a scoop out of him with drink, they returned to the paper with news that the manufactured serial killer has, dunh dun dunh!, sexual compulsions. (I thought for a minute there that my sick mind had guessed right about those teeth, but it turned out they were used merely on nipples and ass cheeks.) Scott was sent out to the streets for react quotes from the homeless, but those men had his number and jerked the boy around. ”That reporter from the Sun is not exactly Bob Woodward,” said one astute media critic.
NEXT: McNulty one-ups Templeton’s lie