THE WIRE: Small Screen, Big Picture

Craig Detweiler — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 18:54:46 -0700

Looking for a TV series to dig into this summer? Check out the five seasons of THE WIRE on DVD. Several of my friends have been blow away by the depth of characters and compassion generated by this riveting series. I write about it in a new book, SMALL SCREEN, BIG PICTURE, edited by Diane Winston. It chronicles how religious impulses are lived out on shows like The Sopranos, Lost, Deadwood, and Battlestar Galactica. I deal with David Simon’s acclaimed series, The Wire. Here is a small excerpt from my chapter:

Once upon a time, I cared about the inner city. Back in the 1980s, I started an urban Young Life program in my hometown, Charlotte, North Carolina. Our team of volunteer leaders joined the efforts of Progressive Baptist Church. Each afternoon, Reverend Charles Mack opened his church’s doors to the teenagers from Dalton Village, the public housing project across the street. We offered tutoring, games, and occasional field trips. The teens wore out the carpet and broke a few chairs, but Reverend Mack considered that a small price to pay for offering a safe haven from the street corners.

For a wealthy city with a booming economy, Charlotte had an alarming murder rate amongst the black community. I crossed over the tracks to tutor teens at Progressive Baptist in an effort to put my faith into practice. I remember joining a casual game of pick up basketball in the middle of Dalton Village. Beepers lined the court, signs of the players’ trade. When they weren’t shooting hoops, they were slinging drugs, just a beep away from their boss or a hungry client. They all seemed too young to be in business. They were flunking math in school, but practicing the economic law of supply and demand.
Yet, amidst such active drug dealers, I never feared for my safety. An assault or robbery of a white male would bring inordinate attention to the drug trade in Dalton Village. But how could an after-school program combat the systemic roots of a complex problem? Did I merely serve as a conduit for white guilt, an easy way for donors to feel like they were supporting the inner city? I positioned myself as a youth minister who demonstrated a different side of ‘the man.’ The teens feared the police, but welcomed me. While many in the white community considered my efforts to offer tutoring and friendship ‘brave’, the true courage came from young men and women who dared to get up in the morning and face another day on the court of life.
The endangered species on that basketball court was the young black male, guys like James Owens, who admitted, “I don’t expect to reach sixteen.” The basketball players shot fast, played hard, aware that this game of hoops was only a temporary respite from a much more brutal game they were playing in Dalton Village. Reverend Mack’s best efforts to shelter James proved ineffective. James never celebrated his sixteenth birthday. He may have played a prank on the wrong person, acted a bit too much of ‘the fool.’ Or James may have been guilty of nothing more than growing up in the crossfire of west Charlotte. He was the first of far too many Dalton Village teens I befriended and Reverend Mack buried. Success proved elusive.
The acclaimed television show, The Wire, delves into a similar neighborhood, rooted in the experiences of white cops and Anglo reporters, who covered the streets of Baltimore in the late 80s. It is an examination of the failed war on drugs, told with passionate, prophetic rage. It offers moments of genuine humanity amidst a sea of hopelessness. Religion offers scant comfort compared to the crippling effects of ‘the game’, the drug trade that threatens to swallow cops and robbers. Viewers searching for signs of life must look closely amidst a culture of death. Yet, the individuals treading the wire between law and order press on, despite the odds.

Variety suggested that, “When television history is written, little else will rival The Wire.” Slate magazine went even further, calling The Wire “surely the best TV show ever broadcast in America.” So, why has it failed to develop a broad following? Despite nearly universal critical acclaim, The Wire has attracted comparatively few viewers and no Emmys. Perhaps its vision of the American city is perceived as too angry, too negative or too hopeless. The Wire explores America’s shifting priorities from the costly ‘war on drugs’ to the post 9/11 ‘war on terror’. The Wire examines the collateral damage of these un-winnable wars amongst America’s underclass, specifically within Baltimore. The Wire chronicles the collapse of Baltimore’s ports, the rise of drug barons, the ineffectiveness of the educational system and the complicity of the media.

So get the book. And for a compelling introduction to the HBO series, check out Bill Moyers’ interview with series creator, David Simon here.

TAKING CHANCE: An Invitation to Grieve

Craig Detweiler — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 01:05:16 -0800

I wept throughout Taking Chance. This powerful film starring Kevin Bacon as a stoic Marine competed at the Sundance Film Festival last month. It premieres on HBO this Saturday night. Many of my students indicated they had never cried so much in one movie. What made this requiem for an American soldier killed in Iraq so powerful?

Director Ross Katz collaborated with retired Lt. Colonel Michael Strobl on the simple story. It is about a Marine who chooses to escort a fallen soldier back to his hometown for a funeral. We never see even a photo of the dead soldier, 19 year-old Private First Class Chance Phelps. Taking Chance focuses instead upon the respect extended toward the casket by limo drivers, airline attendants and pilots. It is about people pausing to pay their respects to the departed. Taking Chance is an invitation to grieve.

Perhaps the timing of the film heightened its emotion. I saw Taking Chance with seventy-five students from our fifth Windrider Forum in Park City. We watched Taking Chance after witnessing the inauguration of President Barack Obama together. The day was already full of historic images and moments of great gravitas. As we reflected on this ‘hinge-point of history,’ director Ross Katz offered Taking Chance as an opportunity to ‘turn the page and reflect.’

America has taken almost no time to reflect since 9/11. We rushed into war with Iraq on misinformation and a hunger for revenge. The human cost of our war on terror has been hidden from us. No photographs have been allowed of soldiers’ caskets or funerals or even civilians fallen in Iraq. So while we have had many thoughts about the war on terror, we have not grieved.

In his book on The Prophetic Imagination, Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann noted that for ancient Israel, “Only grief permits newness.” We will not be able to move beyond 9/11 until we truly mourn for our loss and remember the dead who have fallen since. Taking Chance rises above politics to put a face on both those who died in Iraq and those who cleaned them up. It makes the preparation for burial into a sacred ritual, rooted in compassion.

Kevin Bacon portrays Lt. Colonel Mike Strobl with such aching restraint. His actions are reduced to a series of salutes. But he hurts and feels deeply. The old adage still proves true—when a character cries in a movie, you rarely shed a tear. But, if a character wants to cry, but cannot (think of Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember or Anthony Hopkins in Remains of the Day), then the audience often becomes the conduit for their catharsis. We suffer with and for them. I recommend you bring plenty of Kleenex into Taking Chance.