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“The Wire” episode 55: REACT QUOTES

This post contains some notes, observations, and analysis of episode 55, which is appearing on HBO On Demand and will not air until February 3^rd. As such, if you haven’t yet seen the episode, please be advised that spoilers appear below. Please be advised that as “The Wire” airs on HBO and features strong language, my examination of the episode—quoting and referring to the show itself—will utilize adult language as well. Reader discretion is advised.

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It’s hard to believe that the final season is halfway over as of the end of this episode!

The episode’s tagline: “Just ‘cause they’re in the street doesn’t mean they lack opinions.” – Gus Haynes

Speaking on the phone to Alma, McNulty insists that the motive now seems sexual; “the killer is acting from sexual compulsions.” Alma says she’ll run it by the metro desk, but seems to suspect that they’ll need more to run the piece.

At The Sun’s 4 o’clock meeting: according to Klebanow, the front page stories will be Clay Davis’ indictment (“obviously”), Congressional hearings on Iraq, Price’s piece on the money raised for Carcetti’s gubernatorial campaign, and John Waters is filming in Baltimore again (but only if it has “good art”). Gus brings up the budget line for the story Alma gave him about the homeless men being murdered—McNulty’s manufactured story. He’s told to “run it inside” and “report it some more” because it’s “too vague for [page] A1.”

Bonds, the state’s attorney, speaks on the indictment of Clay Davis, who is said to have abused the “public trust of public servants” and treated the taxpayers’ money like his “personal ATM machine.” We in the Philadelphia region have heard similar statements relating to the tenure of Mayor John Street, who has just left office.

Vondas gives Marlo a cell phone and says the Greek and company will deal with Marlo only. Why did he give Marlo the phone? He gives Marlo very specific instructions on what he can use it for, and shows Marlo something on the phone, which the audience cannot see. Is he setting Marlo up? I may have missed something. When Marlo meets with Levy and gives his lawyer his cell number, Levy muses to Herc after Marlo leaves, “I have a feeling this firm is going to have quite a payday from Mr. Stanfield and his people.”

As Zorzi is writing a story on the Clay Davis scandal—presumably for A1—Gus Haynes and a copyeditor loom over his shoulder, reading as Zorzi is writing. This clearly irritates him. The copyeditor notes that in the 5^th graph (paragraph), Zorzi needs to attribute a dependent clause. The phrase “a pattern of widespread influence peddling over a period of years” needs to be clearly attributed; either the indictment shows this, or it does not. Gus also observes that Zorzi began three paragraphs in a row with a gerund. [A gerund is a verb that has been made into a noun through the addition of the suffix –ing. The use of a gerund phrase is a common way to vary sentence structure while cramming more information into a sentence, and sometimes writers—particularly those on a tight deadline—can overuse them. Examples of the way gerunds or gerund phrases might be used to begin a sentence include: Preparing to testify; Denying the state’s attorney’s allegations; Maintaining his innocence.] Zorzi, fed up, asks, “How can I write with your fingers in my eyes?” and petulantly cries, “at least let me turn the copy in before you stomp on it!” As an English teacher and someone who has experience with the journalistic profession, I love these scenes on “The Wire”; not only do they highlight the (sometimes contentious) give-and-take in a newsroom, but also represent perhaps the only mention of grammar in major television productions (save for the “whomever/whoever” debate on an episode of “The Office” earlier this season, which I’ve excerpted below for your amusement).

Ryan: You know what I really want? What I really want is for you to know (the computer system) so you can communicate it to your people here, to your clients, to whomever ...

Michael: (Snort) OK.

Ryan: What?

Michael: It's whoever not whomever.

Ryan: It's whomever.

Michael: No. Whomever is actually never right.

Jim: Well, sometimes it's right.

Creed: Michael is right. It's a made-up word used to trick students.

Andy: No. Actually, whomever is the formal version of the word.

Oscar: Obviously, it's a real word, but I don't know when to use it correctly.

Michael (to camera): Not a native speaker.

Kevin: I know what's right. But I'm not going say, because you're all jerks who didn't come to see my band last night.

Ryan: Do you really know which one is correct?

Kevin: I don't know.

Pam: It's whom when it's the object of a sentence and who when it's the subject.

Phyllis: That sounds right.

Michael: Sounds right, but is it right?

Stanley: How did Ryan use it, as an object or a subject?

Ryan: As an object.

Kelly: Ryan used me as an object.

Stanley: Is he right about that ... ?

Toby: It was: Ryan wanted Michael, as the subject, to explain the computer system, the object, to whomever, meaning us, the indirect object, which is the correct usage of the word.

Back to the newsroom, Alma is taking about the need to do “more reporting” on the homeless serial killer piece; Scott, who should be working on preliminaries for the schools series, perks up. “What—he wants publicity?” he asks. The combination of McNulty, who shamelessly fabricates an entire case to force the department’s hand in another investigation, and Templeton, who shamelessly fabricates quotes and circumstances to suit his own preconceived ideas and further his career, are a match made in hell—together they’re bound to do enough creative cooking to give Wolfgang Puck a run for his money.

Alma and Scott meet with McNulty in a bar. Scott says the story needs more “juice” (or, more completely, “juicy details”) than just vague statements about sexual intent. “We need to tell people what his is about, why he’s doing it. We need to make this thing live on the page, or they’ll bury it like the last one.” What Templeton really means here is that the paper needs to tell its readers what to think and how to perceive the story, but also that there has to be an “angle” or an “in” that will appeal to readers—an approach to a story, an emphasis on certain aspects that will be the most titillating or engaging. In Scott’s case, as we have seen, he will provide that “juice” if need be.

Alma asks, “Can we say he’s molesting them?” and McNulty shrugs. “Give us something with a twist,” says Scott. Finally McNulty nibbles (pun intended): “He started biting them. Inside thigh, right ass cheek, left nipple. Is that twisted enough for you?” McNulty adds that the killer is “maturing.”

Herc gets Marlo’s number (he’s still mad about the camera), then gives it to Carver (as penance for all the things he’s done wrong), who gives it to Lester, who is going to build a case around it. Later, we find McNulty and Lester plotting about how to “squeeze a wiretap out of the serial killer” and use the phone number to their advantage. An incendiary scene between Lester and Daniels contains outstanding acting and leaves us—and the two men—with a deeper understanding of the frustrations each faces. As the episode ends, we see McNulty and Lester setting up some kind of bogus wiretap that will allow them to be surreptitiously “up” on Marlo’s phone. With Lester observing, the phone is dialed, and only electronic signals seem to be coming through. Is this a fax machine? Is the signal scrambled somehow? It’s not clear what’s happening here—I suppose it will become clearer as the season continues.

Cutty is back! It was great to see him, and he seems to have settled nicely into his position running the gym (and he seems to have healed from that beat-down he took at the end of last season, too). He tries to train Duquan, who has just taken a beat-down of his own, and who was brought to the gym by Michael—though Michael quickly leaves. Duquan is hopeless in the ring—though I’m surprised he didn’t try a bit more to train him. A good trainer would have seen it as his mission to help Duquan be less intimidated in the ring. Cutty and Duquan sit and talk a while, and Duquan almost sweetly observes how big Michael has gotten (when in reality, of the two Duquan is the one who’s had the growth spurt). Cutty tries to encourage his new charge to seek his “place” outside of West Baltimore: “The world is bigger than here.” (Michael later echoes this sentiment when he tries unsuccessfully to teach Duquan to fire a gun, pointing out that Duquan’s talent lies in his intelligence.) Duquan, in a heartbreaking moment, asks, “How do you get from here to the rest of the world?” Cutty replies, “I wish I knew.” I have to say the writers are giving Duquan (Jermaine Crawford, from last season) some great lines this year, and he’s rising to the occasion with stellar acting.

McNulty again grabs a paper from an honor box on someone else’s coin (this time running to the box to do so), and gets only a dirty look from the paying customer. Alma and Scott share the byline on her article, headlined “Sexual motive seen in killings of homeless” with a subhead of “Bite marks tied to serial slayer.” [Subheads are more and more common in today’s newspapers, elaborating on the headline; they’re predicated on the notion that the average reader spends minimal time scanning the newspaper.] The article appears on the front page of the Metro section, above the fold, a nice bump for Alma and Scott.

Scott, anxious to get deeper into the story (and neglect the Pulitzer-baiting schools series he’s supposed to be working on with another reporter), asks Gus Haynes what he can do next—maybe some background on the homeless men who were killed? Fletch has already been sent out to do this work, so Gus sends Scott out to procure react quotes from the homeless. Gus is perplexed as to what kind of material he’s going to get from the homeless, to which Gus replies, “Just ‘cause they’re in the street doesn’t mean they lack opinions,” this week’s tagline. Scott further shows his provinciality by asking, “Where’m I gonna find homeless people?” to which Gus rejoins, “Not at home, I’d imagine.” Gus is clearly frustrated by Scott’s poor reporting and grousing, and is likely beginning to doubt the veracity of some of his sources and quotes, but as Templeton has been anointed by the managing and executive editors, there’s little Haynes can do.

McNulty triumphantly presents the news article to Landsman, who yawns loudly and insists, “Just because you got some fuckin’ reporter to buy your weak shit does not mean everyone else buys it.” But they’re beginning to do just that; it’s gone up the chain of command to the mayor, and the net result of McNulty’s efforts will be unlimited overtime for two detectives to start.

Clay continues making his rounds of arm-twisting and kicking and screaming when he visits Nerese’s office and says, “I do not fall alone.” He then follows this with “Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiit,” one of his best ever, even if it does seem a little forced. Nerese uses the vile phrase “It is what it is,” which means nothing, to indicate that Clay is going to be taken care of in the end if he “stands tall” now. (Incidentally, I’ve heard that among some young “urban” fans of “The Wire” the phrase “Clay Davis” sometimes playfully replaces the word “shit” in conversation.)

Bubs is still working cleaning dishes at the soup kitchen, and the director wants him to start serving food. Worlds collide when Scott comes through seeking homeless react quotes, only to learn (after conducting a few interviews, it seems), that most of those who use the shelter are the working poor. The soup kitchen director says to Bubs, “The reporter the Sun paper sent over – not exactly Bob Woodward,” referring of course to one-half of the young, dynamic pair of reporters (the other being Carl Bernstein) who broke the Watergate scandal for The Washington Post in the early 1970s. Later, Bubs approaches Walon about getting tested for “the bug” (AIDS). Bubs’ AIDS test is negative, but Bubs feels guilty about this. Walon (Steve Earle) urges Bubs to let the past, along with his guilt and shame about it, go.

Bunk pulls McNulty into the box as Kima is assigned as the other detective on the homeless killer—as Bunk notes, being pulled off legitimate murders to work a fake case. Though Bunk has become a bit one-dimensional this season, with his one speed being incredulity and outrage over McNulty’s unethical and illegal tactics, he gives a whopper of a speech here: “You’ve lost your fuckin’ mind, Jimmy. Half-lit every third night, dead drunk every second. Nut deep in random pussy. What little time you do spend sober and limp-dicked, you’re working murders that don’t even exist.” This seems to have some impact on Jimmy, who insists that Kima keep working her triple murder investigation, but it’s too late to reconsider; Jimmy has set himself on a path now from which he can no longer escape.

Scott Templeton, when mingling with the homeless to try and find usable react quotes, encounters some of the same characters McNulty did earlier—they’re mentally ill, merely quirky, downright reticent, or just plain hostile. A good example of this is a man (played by Joe Hansard) who gives his name as Nathan Levi Boston and seems on the verge of telling Scott who did the homeless murders, but then says, “Do you believe Satan walks the earth in a fleshly form?” Scott is utterly stymied and defeated. The scene in the shelter and among the homeless suggests that Scott has no ability to connect with ordinary people—nor does he seem to have the ability to empathize with his subjects or think outside his own experience, perhaps explaining why he finds it necessary to fabricate (more on that later).

Clay Davis appears on an African American AM talk radio station (it may have been WOLB 1010 AM—and was that Larry Young, who has a morning show on the station, interviewing him? If that’s so, it was a brilliant bit of casting; Young is a former state legislator from Baltimore who was expelled in 1998 for allegedly taking kickbacks and improper dealings). A rally is to be held at 2pm outside the courthouse to support Clay, who is presenting himself as just another example of a Black leader who is only trying to do good, but is persecuted for it by the white power establishment. Clay says, “It’s time to lift ev’ry voice,” a reference to the “Negro National Anthem” by James Weldon Johnson. Later, Royce speaks on Clay’s behalf at the aforementioned rally because Royce is dirty too, and Clay is going to carry the water for all of them. While smiling and holding up Clay’s hand for the photo op, Royce mutters to Clay that he’d better stand tall on this, meaning he needs an assurance that Clay will absorb all the punishment in return for Royce’s ongoing support.

Back in the newsroom, Alma informs Gus that more manpower has been assigned, according to the PIO (which stands for Public Information Office, I believe). Fletch turns in great background work, including the fact that the first victim was an ex-Marine. Scott breezes in, having magically found react quotes from a whole family of four living under the Hanover Street bridge. The name of the father was Nathan Levi Boston—a name actually given to him by crazed individual who kept invoking the devil. He even describes how the mother kept stroking her son’s blond hair. Templeton has quite obviously fabricated this entire family and all the quotes and information gathered. His invention of a blond-haired boy represents pandering of the worst sort—he believes the paper’s (particularly white, middle class) readership will respond more strongly and empathetically to a white homeless family than an African American or family of color. Shortly thereafter, Scott insists the homeless serial killer story has legs and he continues neglecting the schools series—and as we’ll soon learn, Scott knows exactly why the story has legs.

McNulty ignores his ex-wife’s phone calls, then finally shows up at her house, having missed his son’s play. His sons, who seem to be in their mid-teens, are practically indifferent to their absentee father’s short visit and nervous jokes. It’s a sad commentary on how skewed his priorities have become, as he’s now a hackneyed stereotype: a philandering divorced man, an alcoholic who buries himself in his work and the bottle to bury his pain. His ex-wife, Elena (Callie Thorne) then talks to Jimmy outside the house, noting that she talked to Beadie, who is at the end of her rope with him. The ex-wife says she was actually happy for him and Beadie when he’d seemed to turn things around—but now he’s throwing it all away. McNulty, who is expert at avoiding his problems, just walks away. In a later scene, Beadie meets briefly with Bunk in desperation to try and make sense of what’s happening with McNulty—for she’s about to “put him out.” Bunk, also bewildered by his friend’s behavior, is torn between his allegiance to McNulty and Jimmy’s obviously hurting companion; he makes vague excuses for McNulty’s behavior, downplaying his transgressions, and Beadie leaves disappointed.

In the first scene in which we observe the actual machinations of Templeton’s dishonesty, Scott uses a payphone to call his cell, then writes notes in a reporter’s notebook while listening to neither. His fabrications are bound to emerge somehow, but it’s still unclear how. A subsequent scene occurs in The Sun’s boardroom and features Klebanow, Gus Haynes, Scott, McNulty, and perhaps the publisher. Scott claims to have spoken to the serial killer, who called his cell from a payphone; he’s in deep now. According to the “killer,” he will produce twelve bodies before he’s finished, after which he’ll go somewhere else. The “killer” goes on to insist that they wanted him to bite them, that they asked for it. He complains that the article made him sound like a pervert. After Scott asked the “killer” if he was angry at the men, the caller hung up.

McNulty’s reactions in this scene are priceless: he knows it’s all fabricated, but he doesn’t know how to play this. This development—a reporter now fabricating developments—could ruin or make his case. Scott goes on to make up details: it was a white guy in his 40s who spoke in a calm monotone. McNulty says that the Homicide unit received a similar phone call (he’s lying, clearly, to play along and capitalize on his sudden good fortune). As Gus leaves the meeting, he remarks, “Ten minutes ago I’d have said this whole thing was complete bullshit. Shows what I know, I guess.” He’s on to Scott, but can he prove it? Surely he’ll get the evidence he will need—I can’t wait to see how this will play out.

Omar, with Butchie’s friend Donnie (Larry Andrews), stakes out Marlo’s lieutenant, Monk—not to be confused with America’s favorite obsessive-compulsive detective, played by Tony Shalhoub on USA. Omar’s patient, waiting night after night, but he seems oblivious to the fact that he’s also being watched and, as it turns out, set up. This seems to me like a blunder quite out of character for Omar. When he and Donnie decide to ambush Monk’s family, they encounter Snoop, Chris and Michael, who have been lying in wait for them. There is a heart-stopping shootout, during which Omar dives behind a couch and seems to show real fear for the first time since he was sent to prison. After Donnie is killed, Omar takes a Batman-like flying leap (his trenchcoat even billows like a cape) out the third-floor window, seemingly disappearing into thin air. Michael, Chris and Snoop peer off the balcony, baffled as to where he’s gone. (Where the hell did he go?)

Next on “The Wire”: we see Randy—he’s grown too! The mayor gives a speech about the homeless murders; Marlo is doubling the bounty (on Omar?) and seems to be making a play for control of the coop.

END OF EPISODE 55 NOTES