Need a refresher? If so, be sure to read our reviews for Part 1 & 2, and Part 3 & 4 first.

“Are you happy with the house? I’d like to think it was worth it.”

The words of F. Scott Fitzgerald hang over the final two chapters of David Simon’s and William F. Zorzi’s Show Me A Hero like the Sword of Damocles. Except, in this case, fear hangs over everyone equally, not just those in positions of power. Part 5 and 6 spans events from early ’91 to late ’93, and with this being the final two chapters, the narrative has naturally shifted away from the confines of the judge’s chambers and noisy council meetings, in order to focus on the tenants we familiarized ourselves with from the West side of the Parkway. Hank Spallone (Alfred Molina) is mostly mentioned by name, and seen a brief two times in the whole two hours, before the new mayor Terry Zaleski (Daniel Sauli) takes office. Not much time is spent with Zaleski, but enough to know that he’s the shiftiest Democrat presented in the entire miniseries, and the biggest nemesis to our hero, Nick (Oscar Isaac). Judge Sands (Bob Balaban) and Michael Sussman (Jon Berenthal), so instrumental in getting the housing bill passed, don’t make a single appearance, while Oscar Newman’s (Peter Riegart) greatest contribution is to hand over the housing counselling to the most important new character, Robert Mayhawk (The Wire alumnus, Clarke Peters).

Parts 5 and 6 distance themselves by some margin from the politics that dominated proceedings in the previous parts, and is mostly split between two narrative strings. The first follows Nick, desperately seeking recognition and a way back into office. The more he fails, the deeper he sinks into an egotistical vortex of self-loathing, even costing Nay’s (Carla Quevedo) job by playing political games with her bosses (only to eventually realize that the only one being played is him). At the beginning of Part 5, his friendship and alliance with Jim Surdoval (Michael Stahl-David) is severed because Jim is backing Zaleski for mayor. Vini Restiano (Winona Ryder), the friend Nick comforted in Part 2 when she got shut out of politics, makes a powerful comeback in Parts 5 and 6, only to find herself in direct opposition with Nick when he decides to run against her as City Council President. When she asks him, with tearful resentment, if he really believes in anything but himself, the gist of the message is clear; the ugly, cruel game of politics is frightfully masochistic in nature. As I mentioned in last week’s recap, the strong sense of the corrupt nature of politics being the primal theme of the show rings deafeningly true all the way to the soul-crushing conclusion. For those who have resisted the urge to Wikipedia the real Nick Wasicsko, I will refrain from spoiling, but, with Fitzgerald’s words in mind, you can probably guess what happens.

The second narrative thread is the only one with some hopefulness, though not before it gets tangled up in fear. Billie (Dominique Fishback)—who gets little sympathy from me and whose storyline remains the most ubiquitously irritating thanks to her godawful choice in partner—, Norma (LaTanya Richardson Jackson), who is still reluctant to mingle with white people, and Doreen (Natalie Paul), who has come a long way from her junkie days, all move to the new low-income townhouses. Doreen gets involved with the new local community and through that befriends Mary (Catherine Keener). That’s right, what we expected all along finally materializes at the beginning of Part 6: Mary officially switches sides when she starts to focus on those trying to do right by their neighborhoods and be upstanding citizens. Meanwhile, Carmen (Ilfenesh Hadera) remains stuck in the projects because her name is put on the waiting list for the next houses, but her story’s conclusion is appropriately cathartic all the same. Mayhawk councils a team of volunteers (Mary included) on how to approach and help the new neighbours assimilate themselves into their new surroundings, coyly saying at one point that they’ll be learning more about themselves than the new families. As expected, the predominantly white community doesn’t take kindly to the new residents at first, instilling distrust, fear, and prejudice; all the more reason why the final image is a ray of sunshine.

The tone of the show’s final hours is very much a somber one. As with the episodes that preceded, Simon, Zorzi and Paul Haggis show off their artistic range with equal touches of subtle deftness and emotional hemorrhaging. Recall—and try to do so without getting goosebumps—the final montage of Bruce Springsteen’s eternally tender “Lift Me Up.” The fate of every character reminding us that these are real people’s stories. Then consider the opening of Part 6, mid-sentence in Mayor Zaleski’s speech, “-which for Yonkers has been a long time coming.” We know what he’s talking about, and thanks to this brilliantly understated opening, we also know he doesn’t care.

No, the only one who truly cares is Nick, and there are two profound scenes in these two hours where we see what all that care gets him. The first is when he visits the lottery spin to see which lucky tenants get to live in the new houses. He sits in the back, genuinely happy for the people, but slowly realizes that no one knows who he is and that he’s got no business being there other than to satisfy his own sense of pride. The second is when he literally goes door to door of the new houses to speak with tenants directly, to see how they’re feeling, perhaps get a modicum of gratitude. He gets the door slammed in his face until one person does recognize him. Blind Norma. It’s powerful stuff and the beating heart of Show Me A Hero. A man who jeopardized his political career to get the housing bill passed, but made the mistake of expecting a handshake instead of being satisfied with the work itself.

Show Me A Hero stands next to Simon’s previous sensational miniseries, The Corner (2000) and Generation Kill (2008), and under the auspices of his crowning achievement with Zorzi, The Wire, as essential television that drills into the truth of people. People with flaws and strengths on display, equally weighed. What happens to a good man when he gets a taste of that sweet poison of power? How does one navigate the moment in a person’s career when real change becomes a probable reality? These are the heavyweight questions we’ve come to expect of creator David Simon. The kind that keeps the Sword hanging above all our heads, and that will surely keep me revisiting Show Me A Hero again and again.

9.5/10

“Hey, this mayor thing…when’s the fun part start?”

In the opening moments of the new HBO miniseries, Show Me A Hero, so much is said without a single word spoken. A man parks in front of a cemetery, panting and hyperventilating before chugging two-thirds of a Maalox (antacid to treat dyspepsia), and ignoring his beeping pager. He leaves the car, pukes out the Maalox, and—in a brilliantly framed shot—walks into the distance while his pager flashes “911.” He sits by a gravestone marked “Wasicsko,” stressed, paranoid, and clearly at the end of his rope. Politics aside, these opening moments ensure one thing: writers David Simon and William F. Zorzi (ex-Baltimore Sun journalists and masterminds behind the greatest TV show of the century thus far, The Wire), director Paul Haggis (Crash, Third Person), and star Oscar Isaac (sizzling like a comet towards the A-list after his unforgettable turn in Inside Llewyn Davis) are going to make Show Me A Hero one of the most talked-about television events of the year through sheer artistic integrity.

That it has a timely political subject at its epicenter guarantees discussion and makes it all the more enticing. It’s the late 1980s, and we’re in Yonkers, New York. Now, depending on how much pre-hand knowledge one starts with—specifically concerning the public housing crisis that forms the molten-hot fulcrum of this story—one will either be affirmed or informed for the first couple of hours. Thanks to Simon and Zorzi’s experience in encyclopedic storytelling structure, the groundwork is laid out and easy enough to follow as long as you pay close attention. Yonkers is divided by the Saw Mill River Parkway; on the East side live the affluent, middle-to-upper class of predominantly white citizens, while the West side is made up of the housing projects populated by the predominantly non-white and poor. After federal judge Leonard Sand (Bob Balaban) issues an order to the City of Yonkers to install 200 units of low-income housing on the East side of the parkway, the middle-class community raise hell for the City’s incumbent mayor Angelo Martinelli (Jim Belushi) and his councilmen and women, among them 27-year-old Democrat Nick Wasicsko (Isaac), Republican Henry Spallone (Alfred Molina), and Council president Vinni Restiano (Winona Ryder). Hell is raised, not because of outward racism or prejudice, as one of the citizens tries to articulate, but because the property of their own houses for which they’ve worked hard to obtain and maintain will fall, while people who don’t make the kind of money they do get a federal free-pass to live in the same neighborhoods.

The first two hours of the show introduce us to the principal characters from both sides of the Parkway, and the personal and political struggles they carry. Martinelli is facing an election year and has grown increasingly unpopular with voters because he refused to appeal Sand’s housing mandate, while Wasicsko becomes convinced he’s got a shot to become the country’s youngest mayor, because he has, crucially, voted for the appeal. Meanwhile, his private life is imbued with an adorable romantic subplot as he courts and wins over a councilman’s new secretary, Nay Noe (Carla Quevedo). In Sand’s chambers, the NAACP are represented by a passionate and cynical Michael Sussman (Jon Bernthal) who pleads with the judge to make good on his promise and force the housing on the city, even if he doesn’t have the council’s approval. While housing expert Oscar Newman (Peter Riegart), who has canvassed the layout of Yonkers, believes the 200 units can and should be spread out over eight or more sites, in order to avoid further contempt and division within the community.

As the political soup brews on both local and federal levels, we get glimpses into some of the lives on the west side of the Parkway. There’s 47-year-old Norma (LaTanya Richardson Jackson) whose eyesight is deteriorating by the minute due to diabetes. We follow Carmen (Ilfenesh Hadera) and her three children as they struggle in New York and are forced to move back to the Dominican Republic. And we’re introduced to Doreen (Natalie Paul) who lives in the suburbs but visits the projects where she meets, falls in love, and moves in with a well-meaning, asthmatic, drug-dealer Skip (J. Mallory McCree). Keeping with the non-political level, in Part II we become acquainted with a couple of East Yonkers citizens, Mary (Catherine Keener) and Buddy Dorman (Brian Altman). When Nick becomes mayor-elect, and the housing appeal is denied, it forces Nick and his council to comply with Sand’s mandate or face hefty fines and contempt of court, while Mary joins the growing ranks of the angry rabble who refuse to give in to the idea of low-income housing in their community.

This first third of Show Me A Hero beckons you to immediately re-watch both parts depending on how well versed you are in political jargon, just to make sure all the appeals, elections, NAACP grievances, and court decisions make sense. Then again, people tuning into a new HBO miniseries from David Simon and William Zarzi should expect nothing less then to have their attentive faculties massaged to full capacity. All credit goes to Simon and Zarzi’s expert writing, which displays an incredible economy in character and story development. In two hours, we get the sense of an entire community and all its various shades, from slums to council meetings. Haggis’ direction, and some masterful editing from Jo Francis and Kate Sanford, delicately weave together all the pieces of the puzzle, allowing the virtuoso performances to shine through and keep eyes glued to the screen. Literally all of the players, spearheaded by Isaac all the way down to the secretary who comically refuses Wasicsko access to the copy machine, excel in their roles. As outlined in the opening minutes, Show Me A Hero is an intricate, controlled, and smoothly seismic piece of television. And we’re just talking about the first two hours here.

This kind of subject matter and story doesn’t just invite political discussion, it incites it. Based on Lisa Belkin’s nonfiction book of the same name, Show Me A Hero (the title, FYI, is taken from the F. Scott Fitzgerald quote, “Show me a hero, and I’ll write you a tragedy,” so wherever this is heading, it won’t be pretty) makes little qualms about which side its own. Molina’s Spallone chews on his toothpick with the menace of a Bond villain, the angry white mob of East Yonkers spew anti-Semitic slurs about Sand and Sussman, and the tenderization of the West-side characters is more mechanical than braising. Norma’s eyesight, for example, gets stretched to the point of heavy-handed manipulation: she can’t see the button she marked on her intercom to buzz herself in, and instead of trying any other apartment, she frets and tugs at our heart strings. On the other hand, there is a sense of level-headed balance. Spallone’s “I watched the Bronx die” argument has its roots in historical accuracy (depending on who you talk to), and the first proper sequence we see on the West side involves a drug-deal; the foremost concern for the East side of Yonkers. While most of the white citizens’ objections drown in a cacophonous sea of introverted racism, one can’t help but sympathize with someone like Mary Dorman (played with surgical subtlety by Keener), who is genuinely worried about how her way of life will be impacted by this change. The show makes a point to separate her from the rest of the bigots, and Part II’s conclusion—an unlikely phone conversation—foreshadows the kind of evolution both Mary and Nick are about to go through.

That it’s a liberal-minded show is obvious, and the creators have every right to slant whichever way they feel is just. Many critics, who are much more in-tune with American politics than I am, have already noted the relevance of its themes and subjects on today’s geopolitical landscape in the U.S., with on-going racism and corrupt political systems dominating news headlines. Depending on where one’s personal standing is on the issue of low-income housing, Show Me A Hero is either going to enrage or enlighten, but there are a couple of key things to keep in mind, regardless. Firstly, all of this actually happened, and history blinds personal opinion, or at least, it should. Secondly, knowing that this show comes from the creators of The Wire should silence the skeptics and remind them that all sides of the issue will be handled accordingly. Thirdly, the core issue of disolving segregation is one that everyone should be able to firmly stand behind, regardless of their political leanings. And finally, especially for those neutral on politics, this is television operating at its artistic zenith. Simon and Zarzi make a city’s housing crisis more compelling than one could possibly imagine, punctuating their story with wit (the lookout’s “5-0 on you, Skip” is classic Wire humor) and artistic intelligence (the minute-long background phone ring that concludes Part I is nothing if not genius).

While I’m never one for transparent political endorsement, regardless of whether it’s left or right-leaning, Show Me A Hero has more than enough in its history, characterizations, and bravura storytelling to make me wish that it’s next Sunday already.

RATING: 8.5/10