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'Wire' wraps up brilliant run on HBO

Dominic West and Wendell Pierce appear in a scene from the series finale of "The Wire." (HBO)

Verne Gay | Off Camera

March 7, 2008

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David Simon, the creator of "The Wire," once told the author of a book on the program that the best crime shows are all about "good and evil -- justice, revenge, betrayal, redemption."

Then, he added -- doubtless with voice rising and spittle flying (Simon is a very volatile and passionate guy), "We are bored with good and evil. We renounce the theme."

Which goes a long way toward explaining many things about a classic that winds up five seasons Sunday night with a two-hour finale (HBO, 9p.m.).

For instance, why "The Wire" had very low viewership (even for HBO, and yet still survived.) And why none of the characters ever became, say, spokesmen or women for American Express or Toyota Highlander. Or why almost all the real world institutions portrayed, most recently The Baltimore Sun, always seemed to wrinkle their figurative faces when the subject of "The Wire" came up, as if biting into a lemon.

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Most viewers like good and evil in their shows; it helps them get through the night, reassures them that all is right with the world, and that evil is punished while good is rewarded just before the last commercial break. These viewers may realize that life isn't fair, but they do want fairness in their prime-time shows.

Of course, Simon, the former Sun reporter, and Ed Burns, "Wire" co-author and former Baltimore cop, had loftier ambitions than comfort food. To them, human affairs are ruled by a cruel and capricious god. People and their institutions are bound in an inexorable death struggle. We may not survive the century, and we may not deserve to.

Yup, the Nietzschean landscape was bleak and body- strewn, while poor, beleaguered, rusty Baltimore supplied the props - as well as the metaphor for all human ills.

Nevertheless, there was much, much to love and admire about "The Wire," and when Sunday's episode - artfully entitled "30," the newspaper term for the end of a story - wraps, fans will be sorry to see it go, and HBO will be remorseful. No show in TV history, for example, featured a more accomplished black cast. The endearing characters, such as Lester Freamon (Clarke Peters) and Bunk Moreland (Wendell Pierce), weren't the only standouts. Jamie Hector's Marlo Stanfield was an absolute triumph - underworld lord and master of the corner, and all else that he surveyed.

In fact, there were so many extraordinary performances on this show that singling out any one or two is a fool's errand; we are each left to cherish our own favorites. Mine? Oh boy ... sure, we all loved Bunk and Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West). But what about Robert Chew's Prop Joe? Gbenga Akinnagbe's Chris Partlow? Felicia Pearson's Snoop? Wood Harris' Avon Barksdale? John Doman's William Rawls? Delaney Williams' Sgt. Jay Landsman? Glynn Turman's Clarence Royce? Aidan Gillen's Tommy Carcetti, or ...

What to say about Sunday night, where some of these characters meet their fate? The finale, or at least the first hour and 20 minutes, is so tightly written and conceived that to say almost anything gives away too much. But Simon/ Burns are true to their core philosophy, making this finale more satisfying than the jarring endnote on "The Sopranos." (It's not giving too much away to say that the screen does not suddenly go black at 11 p.m.)

All four "institutions" - the street, city hall, homicide, and The Sun - are tied together by McNulty's deceit (he staged a case to make it look like a serial murder to get money so the cops could continue the Stanfield investigation). When the knot is finally untied, the series' meaning steps into the light.

Yet Simon does betray a sentimental heart, too. There are some quiet, reflective shots of Baltimore - a tip of the hat, if you will, to this city.

Plus, there's this bar scene about halfway through. It's a wonderful, warm, elegiac moment, as well as a stark reminder that at 11:01,

television will become a lot poorer.