Sure, you get to play. But then you get shot just for being who you are and die young. So much for the dream of America.

And what Chuck said.

I like this dialogue in retrospect. I like it more having seen the whole season.

At first, it didn’t quite grab me. It compelled me, yes. Grab me, no. A scene of violence: that would’ve grabbed me. Some gets shot. A foot chase. A drug deal gone bad. Whatever. Something to throttle me by the collar and make my head look at the shit they’re trying to show me. Bang. Boom. Holy shit.

So, would that scene have driven me to watch the rest of the show? Maybe, maybe not. The writing is rock solid. The scene itself maybe a little… measured, a little too-even.

But. But! Here’s here I come back around.

Having scene the entire first season, I love it. Why do I love it? Because this is the season (maybe the series) in a nutshell. The show is a slow burn. No easy resolutions. No fast payoffs. The show is very low-action: it’s a lot of moving, roving, talking — but “24,” this show ain’t. A violent opening scene might’ve actually given the *wrong* impression. Because this scene encapsulates the show nicely.

The criminal? The witness dude? Sympathetic. Snot Boogie? Sympathetic. The situation? Doesn’t really make sense to him or the McNulty. That’s the show. The criminals are sympathetic. The cops are stuck in the shit, just trying to shovel through it. The situations? They don’t always make sense. Bad shit happens. Bad shit goes down. And everybody’s left holding the bag.

It also shows that these guys feel *bad* about shit like this. That’s critical to the season. A handful of characters get fucked up just by being in proximity to all this awfulness that goes down. It’s fucked up, even for them. They have consciences. They have heart. Even when it fails them, it’s there.

This scene rocks that pretty well.

And that end line: “It’s America, man.”

A nice close to that scene.

– c.

If you don’t dig on the scene, that’s okay. I could even play Devil’s Advocate and say why I *don’t* like this as an opening scene. (And I will, when I’m done with this script. Like, done-done it. Dooooone. Soon. SOON.)

Disagreement is all good — no need to respectfully abstain. Opinions and disagreements are good, long as they’re respectful.

– c.

Netflix still has that disc on Long Wait, and they won’t even send me the later discs.

I wouldn’t mind buying the Complete Series (it can be had on eBay for like, $70-80), but I’m not really up for spending that money right now. (Esp since I’m already paying for Netflix.)

Anyway — in this dialogue, you’re right, we don’t have direct tension. The witness isn’t being bullheaded — he’s just cautious. But the indirect tension — trying to suss out the truth as a body cools only feet away — is delicious stuff.

As a sidenote, I love a lot of the nicknames in the show, among the cops and the criminals. McNulty (McNutty). Bunk. Prez. Herc. Dee. Poot. Wee-Bay. Little Man. Stringer Bell.

– c.

(Incidentally, it’s an old show, can you live-stream it on NetfliXbox to get you through?)

In terms of the dialogue: It rings true in a fashion that I go through everyday; snitching.

Who shot snot? Kid knows but “I ain’t goin’ to no court…”

This tension wasn’t conveyed with those words, it was confirmed with them. The tension was in the silence. The moment of resistance. I feel it every week at least with my job. I felt it then, in the vid. That’s the mark of good acting, directing and writing. Conveying the perfect something with the perfect nothing.

Sometimes what you DON’T write is even more impactual than what you DO. Like the full details of the boogieman (sticking with theme) in the closet. Leave some of that to the reader’s imagination. Let them fill in the blanks. It’ll be more frightening if it’s left open.

Good writing, here. I think I’ll Netflix this show.

K

Why you doing it man?