Late Editions

“My name is my name.” – Marlo
“Be creative gentlemen.” – Michael Steintorf (Carcetti’s chief of staff)

Wow. The second-to-last episode in every season has always been the action-packed one and “Late Editions” did not disappoint. The similar ones in season’s three and four were among the show’s all-time best and were penned (as this one was) by D.C. crime novelist George Pelecanos.

“Late Editions” started out with a very quick pace, almost as if they were making up for lost time. The Stanfield re-supply is discovered, staked out, and taken down all in the first 15-20 minutes.

Given that the police have spent much of the last two seasons building up a case against his operation, the take down happened with surprisingly little drama. I was almost disappointed. I was at least hoping for some dramatic face-to-face in the interrogation room between Bunk and Chris. We see the SWAT team going in directly after the scene where Daniels calls in for a warrant to go into the warehouse. No jockeying for power among different agencies. For once, everything operates as it is supposed to.

One thing this season has lacked up until this point: surprises. McNulty brutalizing that DOA body in episode two and Prop Joe’s death were the only two things that jump out. Every other plot twist has been fairly predictable. But having Snoop and Omar dropped by people you wouldn’t think of as their adversaries added a nice twist. Those were the “Damn!” moments.

That scene with Michael and Snoop in the alley was memorable: a sudden switch from on the hunt to the hunted. Snoop shows no real surprise when she knows she’s about to get got. We even see, for the first time, some femininity. She asks Michael, “How do I look?” before he kills her. “You look good girl.” He pulls the trigger. The creed she lived by, “Deserve got nuthin’ to do with it” was fulfilled by her protégé.

But her look reminded me of the one on Chris’ face when he learns he’s caught a murder. It’s like, “Hey, it’s just a part of the game and I didn’t expect much else to happen anyways.”

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This was the first episode where I found myself feeling sorry for Marlo and his crew. Why? How isolated they are from society, from humanity and really – from themselves. What was a tight operation appears to be disintegrating into a sort of “Reservoir Dogs” cruelty where the players turn on themselves. When you think about it, it was entirely predictable.

Why? Simply put: there’s no trust in Marlo’s organization; no “code” as Omar and Bunk believe in the word. Witness what Snoop says to O-Dog when he learns he has to take a few years for a gun charge he’s innocent of: either take the years or find himself “working at Wal-Mart or some shit.” It’s cruel, it’s mean but people like O-Dog know they have no other good choices. Such actions only encourage short-term loyalty.

There was some vindication in finally seeing Marlo’s lack of trust - and resulting narcissism - turn on him. I’d bet a lot of money this guy was abandoned by his parents at a young age. Whether it was spying on Vondas after Omar’s heist last season or flying to the Caribbean to take money out of his bank, the guy has no trust in anybody. He effectively made getting picked up by the police a death sentence. You’re guilty before proven innocent as Little Kevin and Bodie found out. Michael was sly enough to realize this and make a pre-emptive strike.

What’s sad about it is how no one from this world is able to really escape their neighborhood, their circumstances, their frame of reference to the world. For instance, it never occurs to him that Levy is culpable for anything. Marlo’s boys hear “sources of information” and instantly think about a snitch – one of their own. They’re just not educated enough to think outside of their environment and as a result find themselves isolated from the surrounding society. Paranoia occurs. “I just don’t see the boy snitching,” Chris says. “Are you willing to bet your future on that?” Marlo replies.

The best example of this isolation is in Season Three where Stringer attempted to become a business man. Avon ridiculed him. Stringer wanted to be something greater than just a West Baltimore drug dealer but found himself out of his league dealing with people like Clay Davis. It wasn’t about the corners, he told Avon, it was “about product” and distribution. But no one agreed with him. He couldn’t overcome the environment he grew up in and he died as a result of a lifetime of shady deals.

The counter to this is Namond. That was his world but he’s been removed from it and is thriving. All it took was a little love and respect, something he got none of from a mom who wanted him to be a drug dealer.

I figured that Michael was poised to become the next Marlo but instead he looks like another refugee of the corners. That was a profound scene in the car outside the Arabber stables where Dukie and Michael talk about the past. It was well acted and paced. Great long silences. I liked the way that Dukie looked at Michael but Michael didn’t look back. Just proves that while Michael is more confident than Dukie, he’s less connected to the world outside him. Dukie is resourceful, he’s courageous enough to ask for other’s help. Like the rest, he has bad choices but he hasn’t adapted a hardness that – as we’ve seen with Michael – is equal parts an asset and a liability.

That conversation between Lester and Clay would seem to set up a plot thread for Season Six: going after Levy and the white-collar criminals who enable the drug trade. It’s about time the focus went there. However, there is talk of a Wire movie…

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One thing I cannot quite understand is Greggs’ motivation in ratting on McNulty. She’s always been one of the boys in the squad. What compelled her to go to Daniels? Perhaps it’s the humiliation she suffered. She interviewed the families of the “victims,” accompanied him to Quantico, dug up files. She has a right to be pissed. But she doesn’t seem happy about the final result: Marlo in bracelets. I’m surprised too, how McNulty didn’t defend himself to her, how he never took credit for it.

Great line from Landsman to McNulty: “With everything we’ve given you, you should have fire coming out of your ass.”

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This is the episode where Bubbles became Reginald. This show wouldn’t have been the same without him – it would have been just a really well-crafted cops-and-robbers show. He’s the real “Dickensian aspect” the Sun’s editors are after. He’s the real humanity on the show. We see the pain of the city through his journey, how common people are tripped up by the internecine conflicts that clog up bureaucracies.

And his line, “Ain’t no shame in holding on to grief as long as you make room for other things,” was one of the show’s all-time best.


- “You lie about combat if you weren’t there.” Good line from the vet. Joseph J. Ellis would agree.

- Carcetti has become what he said he wouldn’t be: the statistics-obsessed politician. His ambition for the governor’s mansion has made him break all the promises he kept. He’s become totally unlikable.

- Herc has fallen too. He’s a snitch for Levy now.

- It’s worth pointing out that the last few episodes have been the season’s best. They’ve all written by crime novelists who write for the show: Richard Price, Pelecanos, Dennis Lehane. Coincidence? Also, there was a large profile of Richard Price in Sunday’s NY Times.

- I still don’t quite understand the code, and how Lester got map coordinate “G10” from the clock time he saw on the phones. But then, I’ve watched “LA Confidential” four times and couldn’t explain the plot to anybody.

- I’m tired of how every episode this season lifts its title from some aspect of journalism. A lot of the episode titles haven’t been especially descriptive or emblematic of its contents.

- Oh, sorry about giving away the plot twist for "No Country for Old Men" last week for parable's sake. I just figured most people had seen it. My bad.

I’m looking forward to next week’s episode “ – 30 – “ with anticipation and dread. I can’t believe this show’s gonna end! Though I’ll probably do better in my classes when it does.

And by the way, “- 30 –“ is the old school way to sign the end of a press release. When I wrote press releases I’d end them with “###” but one of my old bosses made me change to that.
The final episode isn’t available On Demand so I won’t be able to blog about it in detail till the 11th.

If there’s anybody in LA interested in having a “Wire” party let me know!