Television Review: Boys of Summer (The Wire, S4X01, 2006)

Boys of Summer (S04E101)

Airdate: September 10th 2006

Written by: David Simon
Directed by: Joe Chappele

Running Time: 58 minutes

The Wire, in its uncompromising autopsy of urban decay, could have concluded with Season 3 and stood as a perfectly coherent, self-contained television masterpiece. That season’s resolution provided a natural terminus. The narrative arc tracing the narcotics trade, the port unions, and the political machine formed a devastating triptych of institutional failure in Baltimore, requiring no further elaboration. Yet HBO, for better and worse, chose to heed David Simon’s vision, extending the saga by two seasons to fulfil his original blueprint: one dysfunctional institution per year. Season 1 laid bare the police and the drug corners of West Baltimore; Season 2 exposed the rot within the city’s economic lifeline, the port; Season 3 dissected the political superstructure itself. Season 4, however, shifted its scalpel to the most ethically harrowing frontier yet: the public education system. This pivot plunged the series into profound moral darkness, for here the casualties weren’t hardened criminals or cynical bureaucrats, but children – the ostensibly innocent, the utterly vulnerable. The premiere, Boys of Summer, sets the stage for this descent, yet stumbles under the weight of its own necessary expositions, revealing the immense challenge Simon faced in sustaining the show’s momentum beyond its seemingly perfect endpoint.

The episode opens with a scene of deceptive, almost jarring lightness. Snoop, the chillingly efficient enforcer for Marlo Stanfield’s ascendant crew, enters a hardware store. She listens with unnerving attentiveness as a salesman drones on about the nuances of power drills. Her quiet, almost childlike curiosity about the tools’ capabilities creates a moment of darkly absurdist humour. Only at the very last moment does the salesman’s expression shift – a dawning horror as he realises the potential applications of these tools for someone like Snoop. It’s a microcosm of The Wire’s genius in finding the mundane within the monstrous. Yet this levity proves fleeting, a cruel prelude to the episode’s true subject.

Before Snoop’s sinister purpose is revealed, the camera pulls away from the hardware store, turning its gaze towards the sun-drenched, seemingly carefree streets of Baltimore summer. Here, we are introduced to the quartet who will anchor Season 4’s harrowing narrative: Michael Lee (Tristan Wilds), the stoic, protective leader; Randy Wagstaff (Maestro Harrell), whose street smarts and relative stability (thanks to a caring foster mother) mark him as the group’s potential survivor; Duquan “Dukie” Weems (Jermaine Crawford), whose quiet vulnerability and ill-fitting clothes scream neglect; and Namond Brice (Julito McCullum), the loudmouthed son of Wee-Bey Brice, currently working as a runner for Bodie Broadus. Their world is one of petty games and territorial skirmishes with rival crews – a fragile, temporary kingdom of childhood before the school year forces them into the crumbling edifice of Edward Tilghman Middle School.

This idyll is violently interrupted by the brutal logic of the streets Marlo Stanfield now dominates. A year after Stringer Bell’s death and the Barksdale collapse, Marlo’s empire has ruthlessly consolidated power, pushing aside rivals like Bodie, who now operates as a precarious independent dealer. Bodie warns his associate Curtis “Lex” Anderson (Norman Jackson) to avoid provoking Marlo’s crew – a warning Lex ignores after Marlo’s underling, Fruit, steals his girlfriend, Patricia. Lex’s retaliatory, public execution of Fruit is a fatal miscalculation. Marlo, ever the cold calculator, deems the motive personal rather than business-related, limiting the required vengeance to Lex alone. The trap is sprung through Randy: manipulated by Marlo’s lieutenant Little Kevin (Tyrell Baker) into delivering a false message from Patricia, Randy unwittingly lures Lex into Snoop and Chris Partlow’s waiting hands. Lex is taken to a derelict rowhouse, executed, and buried under lime before the house is boarded up – a grim testament to Marlo’s efficient, hidden violence. The true horror lies in Randy’s dawning realisation; the innocent errand boy slowly comprehends the monstrous role he played, his youthful face etched with a confusion that foreshadows the season’s central tragedy: the corruption of childhood innocence.

Meanwhile, the Major Case Unit operates in a state of institutional limbo. Under the disengaged command of Lieutenant Gene Asher (Gene Terinoni), Lester Freamon (Clarke Peters) functions as the unit’s de facto leader. Freamon and his veteran team, including Bunk Moreland (Wendell Pierce), are fixated on building a wiretap case against Stanfield. Yet they are baffled by the eerie lack of bodies on the streets – a direct consequence of Marlo’s innovation in disposal methods, hidden within the city’s abandoned rowhouses.

Simultaneously, Councilman Tommy Carcetti (Aidan Gillen), weeks from the mayoral primary, battles exhaustion and plummeting poll numbers. His ambition is tempered by the cynicism of his campaign manager, Norman Wilson (Reg E. Cathey), whose weary pragmatism starkly contrasts with Carcetti’s fading idealism. Elsewhere, former colleagues navigate their own post-MCU lives: Cedric Daniels (Lance Reddick) successfully commands the Western District; Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West) clings to his placid existence as a uniformed patrolman, actively resisting any pull back to detective work; Carver (Seth Gilliam) attempts nuanced tactics on the corners; and Herc (Domenick Lombardozzi) has found himself in the unchallenging role of Royce’s security detail. Most poignantly, Prez (Jim True-Frost), expelled from the police force, steps into the chaotic world of Edward Tilghman Middle School as a maths teacher. His initial idealism, facing the reality of an underfunded, decaying institution overrun by unruly students, is palpable – a fragile hope soon to be tested by the system’s overwhelming inertia.

Crucially, what might initially appear as a narrative contrivance – a former police detective finding redemption as a schoolteacher – is deeply rooted in reality. Prez’s character is, in significant measure, a dramatisation of Ed Burns, David Simon’s collaborator and The Wire’s co-creator. Burns, a former Baltimore homicide detective and public school teacher, drew directly from his own experiences within both failing institutions. This biographical grounding imbues Prez’s storyline with an authenticity that transcends mere plot convenience. His struggles in the classroom – the chaos, the lack of resources, the students’ deep-seated trauma – are not fictional embellishments but documentary observations. Simon leverages Burns’ lived experience to ensure that the school’s dysfunction is portrayed as the inevitable outcome of policy failures, bureaucratic indifference, and societal neglect.

Written by David Simon and directed by series veteran Joe Chappelle, Boys of Summer undeniably serves its function as a season premiere. It reorients the audience, re-establishes the shifting power dynamics of Baltimore’s streets and corridors of power, and introduces the crucial new setting of the school system. However, it falls short of the electrifying impact of previous premieres like The Target. Much of this shortfall stems from the sheer narrative burden it shoulders. The episode is heavily weighted towards servicing the established characters – providing necessary updates on Carcetti’s campaign, the MCU’s struggles, and the fates of McNulty, Prez, and others. While these threads are vital for continuity, they come at the expense of the new generation. With the notable exception of Randy, whose pivotal role in Lex’s murder immediately imbues him with narrative weight and dread, the other boys remain frustratingly sketchy. Michael’s quiet leadership, Dukie’s palpable vulnerability, and Namond’s bluster lack the immediate, visceral depth that defined Omar Little or Avon Barksdale in their introductions. They feel like archetypes rather than fully realised individuals in this initial outing.

Consequently, Boys of Summer represents a necessary but undeniably rocky fresh start. It successfully signals the season’s bleaker thematic turn – the institutional victimisation of children – through potent vignettes like Randy’s unwitting complicity. Yet, it lacks the narrative propulsion and character immediacy that made earlier premieres so compelling. The episode commits the cardinal sin of prioritising logistical setup over emotional stakes for its new protagonists. While the hardware store scene and Lex’s execution showcase The Wire’s signature blend of dark humour and brutal realism, these moments serve Marlo’s established menace more than they illuminate the central tragedy of the schoolchildren’s plight. The challenge Simon set himself – matching the intricate, character-driven mastery of the first three seasons while pivoting to a fundamentally different, even more morally fraught setting – is laid bare here. Boys of Summer proves that extending The Wire beyond its seemingly perfect Season 3 conclusion was a gamble of immense difficulty. In 2006, fans might have hoped the show could seamlessly continue its trajectory; this premiere, however, starkly reveals the precariousness of that hope. It is a functional, occasionally brilliant, but ultimately uneven foundation upon which Season 4’s profound, devastating exploration of the education system’s failure must be built.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

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