If all clichés, like stereotypes, are based somewhat on reality, then The Wire is the Ground Zero of all cop shows, trying to retroactively expunge the memory of Dirty Harry and all his pissy offspring. And while the show does indulge in the occasional cop show cliché, it presents them in such a nonromantic, stripped-down manner, that they seem fresh and new. Nobody’s getting air-dropped in from Central Cool Casting in the style of The Sopranos. These are small, anonymous people, and they look and sound just right, like they’ve walked the streets of “Ballmer” for years and have little in the way of expectations. Faison, as Commissioner Burrell, rates any filmic recognition-which leads to a lovingly short supply of “gimme an Emmy!” histrionics. The show is staffed with actors of a particularly low star-wattage-only Frankie R. Taking away the pressure of neatly wrapping things up after one hour-or even after a few arced episodes-allows the writers to take their time and explore this world, which is a rewarding thing, even in such a grotty environment as modern-day Baltimore. The Wire’s basic premise is to take one investigation and follow it through an entire season via a dozen or so episodes. The brainchild of David Simon, expert Baltimore crime reporter and creator of the revered critical darling Homicide, and Ed Burns, a veteran Baltimore cop, The Wire is on the surface just another show about cops and robbers, but even a cursory glance at the first season displays that it has much wider ambitions.
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