Blogging "The West Wing"

Season 1, Episode 22: "What Kind of Day Has It Been"

2010-01-28T09:00:00.003-05:00

Plot summary: In the season finale, President Bartlet prepares for a town hall meeting with college students while the U.S. military races to find a downed American pilot in the Iraqi desert before the Iraqi military captures him. C.J. doesn't relish the notion of misleading the press over rescue preparations. Likewise, Toby tries to ignore updates from the distressed orbiting space shuttle which includes his brother, a payload specialist aboard the craft which cannot close its cargo doors. Meanwhile, a huffing Josh is dispatched to run down and convince the wayward vice president to re-think his position on campaign finance reform.

Click here to watch "What Kind of Day Has It Been"

Av --

I'm going to put the shooting aside for a moment.

There was a whole lot to like about this episode, the finale to the first season. In fact, in some ways I felt it serves as a kind of bookend to "Pilot," as parts of this episode were reminiscent of the series premiere. Bartlet can't get minor staffers' names right, much like Leo messed one up in his classic opening walk through the corridors. Then, a situation existed which the White House was monitoring closely, though unable to control - Cubans heading for Florida. Now, the space shuttle - with Toby's brother aboard - is in peril, a similar situation the White House can't control, but only monitor. Then, Josh gets in trouble because he can't resist going for the cheap but enjoyable one-liner instead of being diplomatic. Now, he gets in less trouble, but still angers Leo by gleefully telling Vice President Hoynes, "If we bring this pilot back home alive, that’s another 10 points." Then, Toby is mopey, Donna annoying, Sam optimistic, and President Bartlet the provider of great wisdom. Now... well, you get the idea. (Though the dollop of wisdom dropped here, borrowed from Woody Allen, was more prolific, as it became a calling card for the show: "Decisions are made by those who show up.")

At the same time, seeing similar quotes and storylines emerge here that we've seen earlier in the season provides a great opportunity to reflect on the growth that has occurred. Charlie came aboard as the new guy, the only member of the team that wasn't with Bartlet since the campaign. He's now close with the president, to the point that he can needle him about getting excited to watch girls' softball. That's changed. But even though he spends almost every waking minute with the president, he still gets excited by the president using information in a town hall that he recommended. The feeling referenced in "A Proportional Response," the one he had "never felt before," is blessedly still there. C.J., who has been managing two complicated relationships - professionally, with Leo, and personally/professionally, with Danny, seems to have reached a comfort level with both. With Leo, months after being left in the dark over India/Pakistan, an incident still fresh in both their minds, she's finally reached the point where he can trust her to lie to the press. (And it wasn't an accident, either. When she asks, "Is there a rescue mission?" Leo pauses a beat, clearly thinks for a second, then decides to clue her in.) With Danny, she realizes she unfairly made him look bad by having him ask the question she responds to untruthfully, and pays him back with the inside scoop on the safe landing of Columbia. And the president, who early this season felt intimidated by the militaristic responsibilities of his job ("every time I sit with the Joint Chiefs, I feel like I’m back at my father’s dinner table"), is now at ease in the situation room and with Chairman Fitzwallace. (I enjoyed their small talk in the Oval Office, though someone should clue them in to the fact that the notion of the eagle facing the other way is not accurate.) All in all, this episode really measured up as one of the best of the season, and that's even without the shooting.

Right. So that happened. I think there are three things worth examining here: the shooting as a story, using it as a cliffhanger, and its narrative presentation in the episode itself. Regarding that last one, I think I could've done without in media res here. While the shooting came as a complete shock, the surprise was somewhat muffled by the fact that we were teased almost right away that something terrifying was going to happen. I suppose it comes down to whether our viewing the events of the day (another similarity to "Pilot": the episode takes place within a single day) is enhanced or detracted by knowing how things will turn out. Personally, I would have gone with not knowing. "What kind of day has it been"? Nobody asks the titular question specifically, though it's certainly something that we can envision someone bringing up. Grading the day seems to be part of the presidential jargon: "You had a good day today, John." ("20 Hours in Los Angeles") "You all had a good day." ("Mandatory Minimums") They were having a good day: Bartlet made a good call on the Iraq rescue mission, and they just received great news about the space shuttle landing safely. With that news we could even start to believe that just like the administration was making a conscious decision to change philosophy, the luck that had plagued them to this point ("what kind of luck have we had, Ginger? Bad luck.") was finally starting to turn. And then it all would have been quickly forgotten, good feelings dissipated by a hail of bullets. This isn't to say I didn't enjoy watching the episode unfold the way it did, but I wonder what it would have been like structured naturally.

Then there's the story itself. And with it, the first real question of whether Sorkin allowed himself to let the fact that this is a television show impact what kind of story gets presented. Put another way: the climactic moments of drama on this show have been organic to the political nature of the series; is this shooting true to that nature? I'd argue it is. For one thing, it had only been 18 years since a sitting U.S. president was shot and wounded, along with three others. It's not a far-fetched storyline at all. Sure, putting it in the season finale is overly convenient, from a theatrical standpoint, but there's nothing inherently wrong with that. Further, it would appear this wasn't an assassination attempt at all, rather an attempt to kill Charlie and/or Zoey. The signaller, the creepy-looking guy on the ground, seemed to be a skinhead, and there were already pre-existing threats towards the couple. (Unless the attempt was on the president himself for condoning the romance, which is possible, but I'm thinking that's not the case.) So one could make the case that Sorkin wasn't going for the sexy storyline of a presidential assassination attempt, rather the completion of a more realistic storyline (sadly), that of mindless, race-based hate. (One important nitpick: I can buy "realistic" for this story except for the two shooters somehow being free to sit armed in a building overlooking an open area which the president would be passing through. No way that building isn't swept thoroughly, and probably guarded heavily.)

Finally, it's hard to objectively judge the merits of a cliffhanger when I plan on watching the next episode quite soon, and don't have to wait five months to learn the answer to the season's final line, "Who's been hit?" From what I've read, the cliffhanger was met with near-universal scorn, mostly because Sorkin had elevated the show to something that was expected to defy conventional television tropes. As the Newark Star-Ledger put it:

The slo-mo finale smacked of a desperation that usually doesn't surface in a hit network drama until season three or four. Ronald Reagan... was wounded by a would-be assassin mere months into Reagan's first term, but art doesn't have to imitate life - especially if the art is written by "West Wing" creator Aaron Sorkin, who has such a knack for dialogue and characterization that his conversations are more exciting than most car chases and fist fights.

An understandable sentiment, though Sorkin's defense that summer is also reasonable:

"I will tell you that I think the season opener, which begins just moments after the season finale, may go somewhat towards helping you a little bit with the last two minutes of the season finale... I promise you that moment in the show happened for the exact same reason every moment on every show happened: I thought people would like it."

If that's the case, I suppose I'll have to reserve judgment. Sometimes a cliffhanger can be only be truly evaluated after its resolution is learned. And given that, as I mentioned above, the story itself works, I think people would have been more forgiving had this occurred mid-season and not end-of-season. But watching the show now, without the restrictions of the network television schedule, I see it as an incredible, breathtaking final scene, capping a terrific episode which itself capped a wondrous season of television I'm grateful to have seen.

And on that note, as we finish the opening season of this blog, a brief word of thanks. To you, Av, for bringing me into this fantastic show, for putting your veteran experience with it to use in our discussions both published and unpublished, and for your endless enthusiasm in pushing me to keep this project going when I hit periods of weariness. And to my other viewing partner, my dear wife Shani, for keeping me company as a first-time viewer, who patiently waits after each episode for me to write, putting up with "we can't watch the next one yet, I don't want to be influenced by information in future episodes" as an excuse to break between episodes. My first discussion of every episode is with her, and it's undoubtedly had a positive influence on my writing.

-- Binny

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Binny --

What an exhilarating end to a tremendous first season. I’ll get my thoughts on the ending out of the way at the outset so that I can move on to the rest of the episode.

I thought the ending was perfect both in conception and execution. You mentioned that you didn’t like using the in media res technique in this episode. You also quoted critics who didn’t like the fact that Sorkin resorted to a cliffhanger, twist ending that many thought was the type of cliché plot device "The West Wing" had transcended. Yet you didn’t make the connection that I think is evident and addresses both complaints, which I believe are inextricably linked. Sorkin wanted to leave us with the ending he did, but he didn’t want to conform to normal finale clichés. As director Tommy Schlamme explained in an interview with The Detroit Free Press, "It was never designed as 'a cool cliffhanger,' as a 'Who Shot J.R.?' way just to get more viewers. Our intent was to open a storytelling avenue." If they had employed normal linear storytelling, when the shots start firing, we would be shocked at a plot development that came out of nowhere from the perspective of this episode’s plot arc. It would be what a cinema buff would call a “twist.” And that wasn’t something he wanted to do. The in media res storytelling gives us a glimpse of the final scene and lets us anticipate where the story is heading for the next 40 minutes, thus downplaying the severity of the twist, cliffhanger ending.

This episode was so good that it didn’t need the cliffhanger (if it had gone to credits after Bartlet closes the meeting with the words “class dismissed,” it would have been a wholly satisfying conclusion), but I think adding it put it over the top, especially the way he uses it to segue into the storytelling he does at the start of next season. As for last scene itself, I loved Jorga Fox in the buildup to the shooting. Her frantic repetition of the words “I saw something,”as she scatters around to locate exactly what it is that she saw, highlights her need and ability to balance her instinct that something tragic is about to happen against creating a false panic that could be equally dangerous. She totally nailed that scene. And as for unrealistic details, how about the shooters waiting until literally seconds before to load their guns? Either that was unrealistic or a remarkable indictment by Sorkin of skinheads’ intelligence.

You wrote a lot about the maturation of certain characters over the course of the season and I agree wholeheartedly, especially regarding C.J. I also loved your point about Charlie’s development from a nervous, shy teenager into someone who can uniquely tease the president of the United States in a way that even the senior staff would never dare to try. The only other person that seems to enjoy this type of relationship so far is Mrs. Landingham, whom we have seen respond to the president at times with her uncanny dry wit, most recently in this episode. Bartlet: “Do you see me walking out the door?” Mrs. Landingham: “No, I see you standing and arguing with a senior citizen.” And while I agree that the president has certainly changed with respect to his newfound comfort with the military leaders, it is ironic that his instinct to overreact to attacks on U.S. soldiers has not changed: “If Fitzwallace has to call this kid’s parents, I swear to God I’m invading Baghdad.” This reaction is hauntingly similar to his response to the news that Morris Tolliver’s plane had been shot down (“I’m going to blow them off the face of the earth with the fury of God’s own thunder) at the end of "Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc" and his general handling of the use of military force throughout "A Proportional Response", before Leo settles him down.

A couple points on policy issues that were raised in the episode:

First, Josh totally nails on the head a critical point about campaign finance regulations. Giving money to a candidate you support or even to the party you favor can be construed as free speech. But when massive corporations are giving boatloads of cash to both parties, that crosses the line by miles. Campaign finance has emerged as a hot issue recently on the heels of the Supreme Court’s 5-4 decision in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, the latest step in the Roberts Court’s attempt to whittle away at the restrictions on campaign spending and bolster the rights of corporations.

Secondly, this episode touched with such subtlety on a talking point that is one of my biggest pet peeves: the vilifying of NASA (and to a lesser extent, military spending). Many people have labeled the space shuttle program a "failure" and called for for the gutting of NASA’s budget because they haven’t produced an epic achievement since the moon landing 40 years ago. (Many of the same people call for cutting military spending because “we don’t need more warplanes and tanks.”) What these people fail to realize are the incredible, life-changing byproducts that these two programs have given us. Anyone use a cell phone? Well, isn’t it convenient that there are literally thousands of satellites floating around in space that allows you to get a signal? I wonder how those got there. The list of everyday inventions that are credited to the military and space program are endless: the integrated circuit (used in every device that contains a computer chip), cordless tools, and smoke detectors all came from NASA, while the Internet, GPS, and digital photography all were developed by the military. In our episode, Toby’s brother is in space, not to travel to Mars, but to study the inner ear of newts, which are remarkably similar to that of humans. Sure, this doesn’t sound so exciting, unless of course it leads them to figuring out how to cure deafness or create a breakthrough audio device. So the next time you feel like criticizing the amount of money we allocate for these two programs, consider the incredible contributions they have made to our society that you wouldn’t necessarily associate with their primary mission statements.

And with that we come to the end of season one. Thanks for thanking me. More so, thanks for providing me the impetus to not only revisit this show (because let’s be honest, I probably would have done that anyway) but to revisit it in this manner. It has instilled in me an even deeper appreciation for this show (something I wouldn’t have guessed was possible), opened my eyes to many new points and details, and sharpened my approach to watching television in general. I have thoroughly enjoyed the process of re-watching and re-re-watching these 22 episodes and eagerly await our impending journey into season two and beyond.

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 21: "Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics"

2010-01-21T11:22:00.007-05:00

Plot summary: While President Bartlet and his staff nervously await the results of a poll to determine his favorability rating, he begins a heady transfer of ambassadors and members of the Federal Election Committee designed to kickstart campaign finance reform and defuse a embarrassing incident overseas.

Specifically, wheeler-dealer Bartlet recalls the married Ambassador to Bulgaria who is discovered to be romancing the daughter of the country's prime minister, but faces another crisis at home when Sam is photographed by a newspaper giving a graduation gift to a known call girl. Meanwhile, C.J. anxiously paces the White House corridors and wonders if she is being marginalized by Leo for past mistakes. In addition, Josh clashes with opinionated pollster Joey Lucas.

Click here to watch "Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics"

Av --

I had high hopes for this season's penultimate episode. With other great drama series I've come across, the episode before the finale is often as good as, or better than, the finale itself. But while sometimes a good episode of this show, or even a great one, can still maintain its quality despite one or two things that nag at me, ultimately there were too many things here I was puzzled by, combined with the fact that not a lot really happened.

For one thing, there's the polling. At first I was puzzled by the collective tension over this specific poll; approval ratings are released regularly, and I'm sure the administration cares about every single change to those numbers throughout the entire four-year term. But given the fact that the approval rating was now lower than it had ever been, I suppose it's justifiable to see hand-wringing over language used in the questions and a terrified silence in the Oval Office as C.J. announces the results. (Though isn't it usually a media outlet or professional polling group that gets these numbers? I have no doubt the administration would do their own polling, but wouldn't the media be skeptical of the results and rather trust an independent source?) And while I have nothing against a positive ending, a 9-point jump? Really? Because they came out with a drug policy that favors more treatment? I just don't buy it. If the country got to see the meeting at the end of "Let Bartlet Be Bartlet" and thus had renewed faith in the president, that would be an easier sell. But the manifestations of that meeting so far wouldn't be enough to truly change the hearts of the public. Not enough people would care about FEC appointees (or appreciate the symbolism of the decision), and the drug policy is in the early stages. I guess my point is the writers sacrificed a slight bit of reality (it's a long struggle to become favorable again) in the name of convenience.

While we're on convenience, I also found it too convenient that Joey Lucas was still in town. My understanding is that Al Kiefer's job is to gauge national numbers on various issues. Joey's job is to do the same with California. But studying these numbers is done in order to advise the president on how best to proceed. Once he's proceeded, and the actual polling starts, there's nothing more he can do. There's nothing more Joey can do. They can go back to California and wait for these numbers to arrive and process them accordingly. Joey wasn't there "because Al Kiefer told her to stop by," she was there because the writers enjoy the interplay between her and Josh, and wanted to get it into another episode. Not that hearing Joey argue against English as the national language wasn't fun, of course. (As an aside, she could have used a great line on that subject from Jed Bartlet, even though it came two years after the show went off the air: "The people who want English to be the official language of the United States are uncomfortable with their leaders being fluent in it.")

And then there's Sam and Laurie. What's that about? Isn't he dating Mallory? If he is, isn't this relationship with Laurie a little too much? He keeps calling her a friend, but clearly she means more to him than that. I was slightly puzzled by her sudden re-appearance, though it actually makes sense in the big picture. We know Steve Onorato knows something (actually, we don't, but we are told this is a reasonable assumption). The timing of a paparazzi photographer teaming up with Laurie's friend to trap Sam couldn't have been a coincidence. My guess is Onorato wanted this to get out without it coming back to him, so he brought the friend and the tabloid together, they worked out a deal, and created this problem for Sam. And I know Sam's right, it shouldn't matter what she does, he's naïve, etc. but come on. He has to - has to - be smarter than that. Toby and Bartlet let him off easy, though maybe it's because Bartlet was saving the best monologue of the episode for how to handle Laurie.

Finally, the C.J. story felt like it was missing something. Her frustration could be understandable, but we haven't seen a reason for it. She tells Danny she feels people still blame her for the Mandy memo. While I'm not questioning how she feels, I find this belief difficult to believe. For one thing, it's not her fault. Any intelligent person would know that, and she happens to work with some pretty intelligent people. And on another level, while the Mandy memo was bad, it created something much better - the whole administration turnaround referenced above. C.J. is bothered by the fact that Leo didn't tell the president she predicted they'd go up 5 points. She sees this as a sign that she's not equal to the others. But is it possible Leo didn't want to tell the president her prediction because he knows the president would take that a reason to be optimistic and Leo didn't want to get his hopes up? Can she say for certain that Leo would have shared a Sam prediction if it was a 5-point gain? C.J.'s feelings of frustration were more identifiable during the India/Pakistan skirmish from "Lord John Marbury": "Either I’m a trusted member of the communications staff or I’m not." In this case, we haven't really seen enough to make us understand why she's feeling the way she is.

-- Binny

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Binny --

It's interesting. In my mind, this episode has always been a lot better than it actually is. I think the reason for this is because I have never really judged it by itself in a vacuum, the way we are doing now. "The West Wing" has always been a show whose episodes I have watched in bunches and, in this case, I have always seen this episode as the culmination of a three-episode-long story arc (with "Let Bartlet Be Bartlet" and "Mandatory Minimums") that gives the staff and the show a momentous head of steam as it heads into the finale and next season. To me, these three episodes have always been more like one long episode that I have always labeled "great" in my mind. But this episode standing by itself, I will agree with you is probably no better than "good."

And I agree with you that not much happens in this episode. And further, there aren't enough great moments or humorous parts to counteract the lack of major plot progress. Where I part with you is with regard to the things that felt off to you in this episode.

I'll start with your questions regarding the poll itself. First of all, this was an internal poll, conducted primarily for the benefit of the White House itself to get a sense of how it's doing. That's why C.J. won't be announcing the results, but rather "leaking" them. Second, internal polls are typically considered more reliable than newspaper or most other polls because campaigns and administrations spend a lot more money and use much more professional, scientific methods to produce much more comprehensive accurate results. This is because they care much more about the results than anyone else since they use them as a guide for how to strategize. They'll usually hire an independent professional pollster to do the work for them and then leak the numbers to the press. Why does the press trust them? Well, why does the press trust anything the White House tells them? There's a certain trust that has to exist between the White House and the press or it'll all be chaos. Also, the numbers are probably authenticated somehow by the independent body that actually conducts the poll. As for the reasons for the jump, well, they don't really give us enough information to accurately explain that. What I will point out is that they have been employing a new media strategy for the last three weeks, which Josh alludes to when he speaks to C.J. If I had to guess, that media strategy entailed getting out the message that the White House has a newfound energy and a willingness to govern aggressively and stand up for the issues that matters to them. So it's probably not just drugs and the FEC that has prompted this increased popularity in the public eyes.

With Joey, I think saying that Al Kiefer was there as a national polling expert while Joey Lucas was there as a California expert is technically accurate, but doesn't tell the whole story. Kiefer was brought in to counsel the president on the drugs issue. Joey was brought in to counsel them on the Republicans' potential counter to the FEC move: the issue of English as the national language. Her expertise on California, which has a big Hispanic population, is what makes her opinion relevant. Since the president has already made his decision on drugs, while the English as the national language issue is still potentially upcoming, it makes sense that Kiefer would be gone and Joey still there. Further, I think the tone from "Mandatory Minimums" made it pretty clear that she was going to be around for a little while, so her presence in the next episode is totally consistent.

As for Sam, I think his relationship with Laurie is more than just friendship, but I think he sees her more as a little sister than a potential love interest right now. He wants to save her and protect her, not sleep with her (at least not anymore). And while that might be sincere, it's probably not smart to have that kind of relationship with one woman while you're trying to court another. And it probably wasn't smart to go there that night, but I'll give him somewhat of a pass. Watching on TV, it was easy to anticipate that something might go wrong. In real life, however, most of the time you aren't being set up and betrayed by a friend who is being paid $50,000 to do so. Her law school graduation is a place he could reasonably expect someone could be watching; late at night for a few minutes outside her friend's apartment, not as much. (And as an aside, why would the London Daily Mirror care - to the tune of $50,000 - about a potential scandal involving a staff member in the administration of a different country? Sam Seaborn shouldn't be on the radar of a British tabloid. Don't they have another princess to kill or something?) But as you pointed out, even if you didn't especially like this storyline, "It’s nice when we can do something for prostitutes once in a while, isn’t it?" made it all worthwhile.

And here's one thing that bothered me: the weird interaction between Charlie and the outgoing Bulgarian ambassador. This is the second time they've brought in someone that has crossed paths with Charlie in the past (presumptive Supreme Court nominee Peyton Cabot Harrison III in "The Short List" being the first), make you think that something significant will transpire as a result, only to have the meeting be a footnote. That I find puzzling.

On to something I liked: the way they got the majority they needed on the FEC. I found the early scene with the "in the closet" soft money opponent Barry Haskel to be very relatable because I think it captured very well how many people would react if being called to the White House. Even though he is aware of the fact that the "trappings of the White House" would be used against him, all it takes is one "Baaaaaary" from Leo and one charming "Barry, I’m Jed Bartlet. I understand you’re thinking about helping us out. It makes me so happy" from the president and it's over. As much as I disliked George W. Bush, if he summoned me to the Oval Office and asked me to do something for him, I'd probably do it. Also, while the Federated State of Micronesia are used as an example of an obscure country that nobody has ever heard of to the point of hilarity, those who support Israel and follow it closely recognize the FSM as the only country other than the United States that consistently has Israel's back in the United Nations. Naturally, I can't tell you as much about the country as the president, but the fact that I had even heard of them I felt put me ahead of the curve.

-- Av

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Av --

Your explanation of the polling makes sense, as does your explanation of the trustworthiness of the poll. But the 9-point jump still doesn't feel right. I understand what you're saying about a newfound energy and aggressiveness, I just don't think these things can be recognized in three weeks. The average American doesn't usually keep track of day-to-day presidential activity, and forms opinions based on the big picture. Three weeks is not enough time to change perception that was formed over the course of a year, at least not that dramatically.

I'll bite that Joey is there to help beyond her initial polling responsibilities, but you'll have a hard time selling me on the notion that she belonged in the Oval Office waiting for the poll results with the senior staff. And while you're right that Sam should feel less concerned seeing Laurie privately on a quiet street than publicly at her law school graduation, given the fact that he was told Onorato's radar was up, he should have taken a zero-tolerance approach.

I forgot about the game of ambassador musical chairs; glad you brought it up. That one bothered me, too. Influence is a tricky thing. I liked how they got Barry Haskel on board by using the trappings of the White House, because you're right - it's completely relatable, and a great weapon at the president's disposal. But the way Bartlet and Co. basically manipulated the presidential appointee system to get their new nominee didn't sit well with me. It's not that it's underhanded - I didn't mind Leo threatening to blackmail congressmen with familial drug charges last episode - it's that it's abusing power to win. Just because Bartlet can technically change who's ambassador to where and then happily find himself in need of a new FEC commissioner doesn't mean it's right. I think what actually bothers me is not that he did it (hey, I like him and enjoy seeing him win), but that we're to believe that this would be acceptable politically. It's one thing to nominate the previous two people he did - though it was a huge shift in protocol, at least it could be defended. But how could Bartlet do all this and not have the Republicans revolt against him and frame him in the media as someone who is willing to play games with executive powers?

-- Binny

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Binny --

Well, that's just how politics works sometimes. It's part of playing the game. The tactics they took were all in bounds and more importantly, realistic. As former White House Press Secretary Martin Fitzwaller pointed out, in an interview with Jim Lehrer:

They had the president fire an ambassador and then hire a person off the Federal Election Commission to be the ambassador, so they could get an open slot on the Elections Commission for somebody else they wanted. Well, the president wouldn't get involved in that in reality. He would make the decisions to do it, but no one would ever see it. But it's exactly how the White House works. I think that's the great value of this show. It shows how the presidency works.

Sure, it'll piss off Republicans. But that's kind of the point here isn't it? The pre-"Let Bartlet Be Bartlet" administration would never have thought of doing something like this. As Josh noted in that episode, "it's not what we do." That's the new White House we're seeing. The old staff was beholden to Congress and felt like they were above playing the game. The new one is committed to keeping its eye on the prize and doing what it takes to get the job done, even if it means taking advantage of a loophole in the process.

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 20: "Mandatory Minimums"

2010-01-13T13:06:00.006-05:00

Plot summary: A newly energized President Bartlet bucks tradition and throws down the gauntlet when he names two campaign finance reformers - to the Federal Election Commission despite threats from his political opponents to introduce embarrassing legislation that would dare him not to sign. Early reactions to his announcement are not encouraging, especially from top-notch pollster Al Kiefer. However, Kiefer's arrival means his attractive cohort, Joey Lucas, accompanies him, and she again draws a smitten Josh's attention.

Toby agrees to seek out his ex-wife, a breezy congresswoman, to gauge her response to any future narcotics legislation that would emphasize prevention over enforcement. Leo, uncomfortably aware of his own brush with drugs, agrees to be the Chief Executive's front man for positioning the high-voltage issue of revising the drug laws.

Click here to watch "Mandatory Minimums"

Av --

"Let me say this: this is not a place where one's personal things, where things among people, this is not a place... let's... this is a place where work is done, and nothing else." -- Josh Lyman

Given the typical season structure to this point, I'm not used to seeing one episode's political discussion continue into the next one, so it was kind of nice to see a key storyline extend into another episode. (I was also pleased to see - or hear - the "energy" musical theme for a second straight episode. It's a shame an original score album wasn't ever produced.) And speaking of unexpected developments, in a series that has for the most part avoided mixing the main characters' personal lives into the story, we got bombarded with the personal brushing up against the professional, with a variety of results.

I suppose the most harmless personal sidebar belongs to Josh and his less-than-subtle thing for Joey Lucas. With their last interaction in Los Angeles ending with her crushing him, it was nice to see Josh begin to get somewhere with her, almost in spite of himself. (I've gotta say, for someone as politically smooth as Josh Lyman, he shouldn't have this much trouble with the ladies. After all, what's the dating scene, especially at the start, if not a mirror of politics? Feeling out the other side, jockeying for position, friendly debate, trying to gauge response. Also, say what you want about Mandy, but I don't see how someone like her could have the patience for the romantic doof Josh we see here.)

Despite my being on record here as being tentative about Danny and C.J. and the myriad of problems their relationship creates, I actually think the story here, despite being grouped in with the other personal stuff, is actually more of a professional one. What happened with Danny could happen to anyone, regardless of personal relationship: reporter has story, press secretary wants to quash story, reporter prints story, press secretary freezes out reporter. It probably happens regularly, even to people that haven't shared a kiss, although that admittedly adds a layer of complication here. In my heart of hearts I think C.J. here acts mostly out of professional anger, though the fact that she feels let down by a "friend" probably didn't help Danny's case. What should have helped Danny's case is the simple fact that he was right. I mentioned it last episode, and Bartlet thankfully calls C.J. out on it in this one. And while we're here, I agree with Bartlet about Mandy, too. No question it's hard to accept her and have her in meetings after they learn what she "really" thinks, but C.J.'s complaint from "Lord John Marbury" rings true here: "Either I’m a trusted member of the communications staff or I’m not."

Though the directing on "The West Wing" is usually quite good, Robert Berlinger's work in this particular episode's was so good it actually got me to notice it. For one thing, two scenes were shot with a particularly nice touch: C.J.'s conversation with Josh about her press briefing gaffe and Bartlet's patronly speech to the staff conducted from his bed. But what really made a mark were some quick shots used as narrative devices. When Mandy walks into the Oval Office, there's a succession of quick shots: Bartlet, then C.J., then Toby, who starts walking to the door. Though it's almost imperceptible on first viewing, those shots were a conversation, the end result of which is Mandy being told not to participate. And earlier, when Josh is talking about Joey with Sam and Toby, Sam goes on a mini-rant about women. As he gets up to the part about how they "take your heart, throw it on the floor, and stomp on it with their big high heels," there's a brief shot of Toby, who quickly tilts his head, scratches his nose, looks down, raises his eyebrows, grasps his beard, then looks up almost surprised. The shot is maybe three seconds, and at first seems meaningless, but when we finally see our first glimpse into the personal life of Toby Ziegler, the shot becomes that much more knowing. So Toby was married. To a congresswoman. Who's smart, articulate, and put-together. And who clearly knows how to bring out the best and worst in him. Many questions are left by this brief glimpse into their relationship, not least of which is why Toby still wears a wedding ring (not coincidentally featured prominently in the above-mentioned shot). My interest in this backstory is certainly piqued and left me wanting more, though I feel introducing Andy Wyatt this way and without a full explanation or history was more appropriate for the story.

Finally, we get to the ultimate mixing of personal and professional: when personal missteps threaten professional life. Or blackmail, if you want to get technical about it. The staff finds itself brushing against both ends of blackmail. Leo threatens congressional staffers that he'll go public with lenient sentences imposed for drug arrests of their bosses' loved ones if said bosses try to play the "soft on crime" card in the upcoming debate on drugs, while it's believed that Sam is being targeted by Republicans who may know about Laurie, his old friend the call girl. Without getting into a whole debate on personal ethics of politicians, I've always been dismayed with how personal missteps can be exploited for political purposes. We're all human, and we all have our own personal issues. So long as a politician isn't doing anything illegal, unethical, or genuinely damaging to himself or others, his ability to govern shouldn't be seen as compromised because of an issue in his personal life. But at the same time, there's no room for hypocrisy, either. Which is my way of saying Leo's in the right, and Sam's in the right. It's fair for Leo to pre-empt any soapbox speeches about how the government needs to be tougher on drug-related crimes if the speaker used connections to lighten a drug-related sentence. But it's unfair to use Sam's relationship with Laurie as a way to smear him and bring him down. His being friends with a prostitute doesn't change his ability to draft and debate legislation on drugs.

Oh, and on a personal note, hard as it may be, I'll try not to hold Toby's Yankee fandom against him.

-- Binny

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Binny --

This episode did so many things well. It was funny, it advanced several ongoing storylines (Sam and Laurie, Josh and Joey, Leo and drugs, Toby and Kiefer, the president's sleeplessness, Danny and C.J.), poignantly touched on a policy debate, and gave us deeper insight into several characters' personae. Truly enjoyable.

I'm glad you noticed and mentioned Toby's wedding ring, because it gives me an excuse to mention this nugget, courtesy of Aaron Sorkin. (I can't remember where I saw it first, but I found it reproduced on a message board.)

When we started shooting the second episode of the series ("Post Hoc, Ergo Proctor Hoc"--One Follows the Other, Therefore it Was Caused by the Other), I noticed that Richard was wearing a wedding ring. I asked Tommy if he'd been wearing it in the pilot and he had. I went to Richard and said, "You know, I don't think Toby's married" and Richard said, "Yeah, I don't think so either." I said, "Well you've been wearing your wedding ring" and he said, "It's not my wedding ring, I got it from wardrobe." I said, "You ASKED for the wedding ring even though you thought Toby wasn't married?" and he said, "Yeah" and I said, "Why?" and he said, "I was hoping you'd figure it out." And that's how Toby got an ex-wife he was still in love with.

As an aside, as I recently mentioned in a comment on our discussion of "Mr Willis of Ohio," while it may have been as early as episode two that Sorkin conceived the idea to give Toby an ex-wife, he certainly hadn't fully developed her backstory, or at the very least, her name by the time episode six came around. The House roll call at the episode's conclusion proceeded directly from from Mr. Willis to Mr. Zantowski, skipping right over the lovely Ms. Wyatt.

I was glad that my thought from last episode - that they had to choose something ostensibly insignificant such as campaign finance to make their move on - was confirmed in this episode. C.J. admits in her press briefing that the reason for the decision was "symbolism." It needed to be something that doesn't inherently warrant taking such a principled stand in order to serve a symbolic purpose and send the message that the White House means business. It's almost as if I've seen these episodes before.

Speaking of C.J., while I agree that her treatment of Danny is wrong, I disagree with your assessment that their personal relationship merely accentuates her wrongdoing. To me, the fact that they are friends (and perhaps a potential couple) is the only thing that makes her behavior "wrong." Danny wrote a story that was embarrassing for the White House and, as a result, the White House Press Secretary is giving him the cold shoulder, choosing other reporters for exclusives instead of him. Rewarding reporters that give positive coverage and "punishing" those that provide negative reporting might not be right or fair, but it's the way things work. It's only because they have a personal relationship that I think she mishandled the situation. If Danny were just a colleague, her actions would just be the cost of doing business; but as a friend, it's petty and immature, which is why Bartlet calls her out on it. He understands that to the administration - and to C.J., specifcally - Danny is not just any reporter; he's an ally and a friend.

Sam, meantime, was in vintage form in this episode. Can a character have a vintage form 20 episodes into a series? Maybe not. But I'll say it anyways. Sam was in vintage form in this episode. As I've mentioned in the past, the flip side of his fierce idealism and optimism is his naïveté and innocence. He comes off as an adorable, callow (Jerry Gallo's dead!) youth (ute? sorry couldn't resist) in at least several instances in this episode: not informing Toby that they had passed the restaurant where the staff was meeting for breakfast because they "were having a nice conversation"; not being able to recognize that he was being manipulated by Steve Onarato and then overreacting and throwing a tantrum when Josh and Toby explain to him what's happening; and referring to Leo as a "hooleelia," a word he admits his mother made up.

There were a bunch of little moments in this episode I absolutely loved, and I'll get to them in a minute. But first, I wanted to touch on one that irked me. I'm probably starting to sound like a broken record since I criticized the way she was used in the previous episode, but I'm only pointing this out because it's a theme that recurs throughout the series and it inexplicably bothers me much more than it should. I am talking about Donna's presence at the breakfast meeting. What was she doing there? This was a meeting between Leo and his senior staff. His assistant being there makes sense because he's the chief of staff and she's his right hand and walking memory bank. But Donna? Why should she be there and not Ginger and Bonnie? I know, I know. Because Donna is a main cast member and they're not. But in real life, she should never be there, her playful ribbing of Josh about Joey Lucas, notwithstanding. But keep this thought in mind as we continue throughout the series because I think you'll find yourself wondering, "Why is Donna there?" a lot.

Now, on to the little nuggets I loved:

I said early on that I was going to be on the lookout for Josh/Rahm Emanuel similarities, since Josh was supposedly loosely based on Emanuel. Well we have a pretty blatant reference to that here, as Bonnie teasingly calls him "Rambo", much to the delight of the fellow staffers. Josh could have used a cinema lesson here, however, as his retort, "You talkin' to me?" comes from Taxi Driver, not Rambo.

Speaking of Josh's movie references, though it may not have been as good as Shaq's, I loved his Godfather analogy. "I'm James Caan. [to Sam] You're...you're Al Pacino...Toby, you're the guy who shows Pacino how to make tomato sauce." (It's Clemenza, by the way.)

Leo, a notorious substance abuser and addict, instructing his staff to "talk to me about drugs."

Margaret, who clearly has severe OCD, as evidenced by the fact that she memorized the names of seven unconnected congressmen because she "couldn't help it," mocking Josh: "You assign your clothes days of the week?"

Joey's male translator Kenny (speaking for Joey) shouting, "I'm not sleeping with Al Kiefer anymore," in a hallway in the West Wing of the White House.

This wonderful exchange between Toby and his ex-wife:

Andy: Toby, are you upset that I went out on a date? Or are you upset that I went out on a date with someone who plays in the same division as the Yankees?
Toby: Honest to God, I'm not sure.

And for the record, Toby being a Yankees fan doesn't bother me, as although he's a wonderful character, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't ever be friends with him for reasons that have nothing to do with which baseball team he roots for. In fact, it might almost bother me more if here were a Mets fan.

Finally, I will follow your lead from past episodes and play the episode title game. And despite having seen this episode many times, this is a thought that didn't occur to me until this latest viewing. Other than its obvious meaning (the racially unfair policy of mandatory minimum sentences for drug offenders), I think there is a secondary explanation that emerges from the final scene. As you alluded to, the energy theme (though you meant it musically, it applies to the narrative as well) is still full on from the end of last episode and the president realizes that. As a result, he says that because of the staff's newfound aggressive and energetic approach, he understands that some mistakes will inevitably be made. The goal, however is to "minimize them." What might be a term one can use to refer to the inevitable number of mistakes a staff will make, yet try to cut down to as few as possible? How about "mandatory minimums?"

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 19: "Let Bartlet Be Bartlet"

2010-01-07T12:16:00.004-05:00

Plot summary: Rumors percolate about a scathing memo that outlines the weaknesses of President Bartlet's administration for his political rival and grip the White House until C.J. learns it came from one of the trusted staff. C.J. finally discovers that the memo is in the possession of one reporter and tries to dissuade him from publishing it. Meanwhile, Sam and Toby meet with opposing military officers and congressmen to discuss amending the current "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy towards gays in the armed forces. When two members of the Federal Election Commission resign, Josh sees opportunity and moves fast to meet with contentious senators to suggest that the President appoint two Democrats as replacements instead of sharing one spot with the Republicans. Leo not only has trouble with the White House's faulty e-mail system, he confronts the president and issues a challenge that could define or destroy his administration.

Click here to watch "Let Bartlet Be Bartlet"

Av --

In an effort to clean up my crowded email inbox, I've been going through some old emails recently. I came across a conversation I had a few months ago with my father in which I was complaining about politics, which is actually quite unusual for me. Sonia Sotomayor was going through the Supreme Court confirmation process at the time, one which saw its share of political divisiveness and controversy. What bothered be more than anything else during the confirmation was my sense that the Senate votes, the 100 yeas or nays that would decide whether this person would be appointed to the highest court in the country, were motivated by anything and everything except how the voting senator actually felt. Party loyalty was talked about as a factor. Support for the president was discussed a lot. And, of course, the effect that the senator's vote would have on his or her re-election was a prevailing theme. Though these factors have played a role in almost every legislation decision since time immemorial, for some reason I felt outraged over this issue. How about voting a certain way because your constituents would vote that way, and your duty is to represent them? Or, at worst, voting yea or nay because - and I know this may sound crazy - that's what you think is best for the country?

On some level I get it. Even if it is unseemly, the argument can be made that playing the game - party loyalty, supporting (or battling) the president, and keeping re-election in mind - is done with the goal of staying in government for the long haul, and being in a better position to effect real change. But where's the line? At what point does a politician give up the politically-driven motivations, stick to his guns, and legislate the way he intended to when he first sought (and won) office? Without question, this episode is meant to answer that question for the Bartlet administration, and the answer is a resounding "NOW." Tired of being "stuck in the mud," being able to count nothing outside of a successful Supreme Court appointment as a policy victory one year into office, the staff gets its wake-up call, and though how successfully they respond to it remains to be seen, so far it can be said that they haven't hit the snooze button.

You know it's funny - since this show throws so much at you nearly every episode, I didn't realize the extent to which the administration had been struggling. It's not entirely my fault; since I'm not living in the "West Wing" universe reading Danny Concannon's stories every day, I can only react to what I see, and this was the first time Sorkin really took a real step back to examine the political landscape from a broad perspective. But the hints were there: Sam's disappointment when the president passively allows a death penalty sentence to be carried out; Toby's continued and increasing frustration with being stuck in neutral; and even outgoing Justice Crouch's sharp critical remarks to Bartlet. (Yes, thank you "previouslys." You have a very good handle on the show.) While we've been able to look at various things going on in the White House that tend to end well for team Bartlet, the big picture clearly hasn't looked as good.

Of course, this being a television show, everything that happens in this episode conveniently reminds everyone of this fact at once. Sam finds himself doing a fine job battling congressmen and armed forces officers on gays in the military, until he's coldly - and correctly - reminded that his assignment is just to talk about it, and not really do anything about it. Josh does his best Josh with the Senate party leadership in a neat attempt to try to change how Federal Election Commission nominees are appointed, but quickly backs down when threatened with political retribution. And Leo is there to call all these failed shots. Incredibly, it takes a dated memo from Mandy of all people to point out just how bad things have gotten. But the outrage at Mandy is completely misdirected. Whether or not Danny is right - that upon re-hiring Mandy, the administration didn't ask her what their faults were because they were afraid of the answer - the staff was unquestionably foolish for not even bringing the subject up at all. Though it's been awhile since she got to showcase her ferocity, Mandy is known to be smart, savvy, and very good at highlighting political weakness. Knowing that her job for Russell probably involved a lot of analysis about the Bartlet administration, not using that to their advantage was a strategic error. Sure, it's aggravating that her opinions are now public, but in a sense it serves the staff right for not asking for them earlier. Because then maybe they would have realized the key point that even Mandy was missing.

Yes, to the outside world, Leo was stopping Bartlet from legislating the way he wanted to. It's interesting how no matter who the president is, the media and public always look at the top advisers and chiefs of staff as key policy-makers, which they no doubt are, but often in place of the president himself. For all we know, the level of influence people like James Baker, Dick Morris, and Karl Rove had with their bosses may actually be higher in perception than reality; after all, the guy who got elected has a voice in the room, too. And, officially, the most important one. (One could even call him "the decider.") Having the perception exist that Leo moves Bartlet to the middle when Leo knows the reality is the reverse, is kind of clever. Having Leo boldly confront the president with this reality and a plea to change the status quo is exhilarating. (Though to be honest, it got a bit overly theatrical somewhere around the time each member of the staff was pledging his service to the president. The only time you'll see more cheese is at a Green Bay Packers home game.) The epiphany now having been reached, and re-election officially moving down the priority list in the name of "raising the level of public debate in this country," (great line by the way) I look forward to seeing where the staff - and the show - goes from here.

Finally, though I keep promising myself I'm not going to look at the Bartlet administration and attempt to draw real-life parallels, seeing a liberal president who "ran great guns" in a campaign only to find his administration stuck in neutral, facing internal and external criticism for not having done much in a year, and hearing about the "frustration of the people who voted for him," is hitting too close to home right now to ignore it. I wonder if Rahm Emanuel has seen this episode lately.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I think a big "West Wing" fan would be hard-pressed to come up with a list of their top 10 favorite episodes without including this one on it. You nailed one of the things that made it so great: the way the series up until now had ever-so-subtly showed us the frustrations and growing pains of the young administration without going over the top with it until it all spills out in this episode. The only accomplishments we've seen them have so far have been the Mendoza confirmation and the passage of an admittedly toothless gun bill that the vice president got most of the credit for anyway. Indeed, most of the time has been spent on defense - avoiding a showdown between India and Pakistan, escaping one PR nightmare after another - rather than leading and governing on the offensive.

The episode as a whole was so great, in fact, that it almost makes you overlook what was a brilliant opening scene. Watching this episode for what was probably the 25th time, I still laughed out loud at this exchange: C.J.: "We should move the thing inside." Toby: "Sam says it’s probably not gonna rain till later," as thunderstorms and lightning are seen and heard in the background. And even though I already know how the president will start his speech (I'm pretty sure I knew what would happen the first time I saw it, as well), it still gets me.

The silver lining of Mandy writing that memo is that now at least the staff hates her as much as the viewing audience does. I'm glad we're finally all on the same page. I was almost cringing in that scene where Josh patronizes and then scolds Mandy as she tries to explain to him what he already knows - that a debate on English as the official language (why not Dutch?) would be a bad idea. I bet she wishes she could go back to panda bear duty.

In other news, Donna returned from her brief stint as an actual character to her original role as a plot device. "Hey Josh, talk to me like I'm a 7-year-old and explain to me using only small words what this super important thing all the grown-ups are talking about today is." It's a clever device in general, but I think they were a little too blatant about it here. That is probably my lone criticism of what is a fantastic episode of television.

Returning to the main point, I wondered about the truth of who drives whom to the middle between Leo and Bartlet and who is really aware of it. Clearly Leo has his opinion and the president either comes around to realizing Leo's right or knew it on some level all along. More interestingly, though, is the seeming knowing glances between Toby and Leo as they discuss the memo as if the fact that the reality is the opposite of the public perception is kind of an unstated understanding among the senior staff. I would even say that this notion is present in the disappointment that Josh and Sam exhibit during the episode: their real frustrations are with the president, but they can’t voice it because he’s the president. So I would argue that the entire senior staff is aware that really it is the president that holds back Leo, not vice versa. So why, then, does Mandy have it backwards? If she was such an integral part of the campaign and is considered such a major player in the party, why can’t she see what is so obvious to everyone else? Maybe that’s why she was put on panda bear duty.

Finally, I was glad that the writers chose a topic as obscure as campaign finance reform and a decision as ostensibly minor as appointing new FEC commissioners as the point for the Bartlet administration to get aggressive about because anything bigger (gays in the military, for example) would have overshadowed the importance of the symbolism of what they were doing. Taking a stand on a major issue is taking a stand for reason; doing so on a minor one is taking a stand for the sake of taking a stand. As someone who has cycled through the series several times now, I think this episode is a real turning point, both for the staff and for the show. The staff is injected with new life to finally go do the things they came to the White House in the first place to accomplish and the show will follow suit. While the first 18 episodes of the series are tremendous, I think this episode kicks off a run of brilliant episode after brilliant episode that goes well into next season and beyond. You have a lot to look forward to coming up. Along those lines, you touched on the most resonating line of the episode, but I think it is one that, very much intentionally so, speaks for the show as well as the staff: "We’re gonna raise the level of public debate in this country, and let that be our legacy." It is, Aaron.

-- Av

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Av --

Lest it seem that I, too, have not been enjoying the cold opens, let me register my opinion: very enjoyable. I think what makes them work especially well is that the show uses the sitcom approach of laying the groundwork for a joke that ends with a solid punchline into the credits (in this episode, Bartlet not looking over his remarks carefully and opening with "As I look over this magnificent vista"... while indoors), mixed in with the drama approach of introducing a key plot point before the credits. (Of the current sitcoms I'm familiar with, many, notably "The Office," feature hilarious cold opens completely unrelated to the episode's storyline.)

Well said about everyone being on the same page about hatred toward Mandy, but I think both groups' outrage is misdirected. Like I said above, Josh and the rest of the staff have no right to be angry with her about what she did while working for the opposition. They saw how ruthless she could be when working for them, and when working against them (remember Josh's lunch with her in "Pilot"?), so they can't pretend to be angry that she did her job for their opponent when she was working for their opponent. If the anger is about only finding out about the memo now, that's partially on her, but, as mentioned earlier, it's mostly on them. And our hatred of her is less about her and more about the writers' failure to make her interesting or relevant or someone we want to see on screen. (I mean, I guess that's the same thing as hating a character, I just feel like we should absolve Moira Kelly, who has been given nothing to work with.)

As for your suggestion that the staff deep down knows that Bartlet is the one that keeps nervously staying in the middle, I'm not as sure as you are, at least not unilaterally. When pressed as to why they won't push hard for their FEC nominees, Josh tells Mandy "that's not what we do." That's more of a blanket statement about the administration than it is Bartlet himself. Sam is reminded that the president himself would need to take action to actually get something done vis-à-vis "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," but that could easily mean the office, not just the man. But I think you're right that Toby gets it. The scene you reference, where Toby and Leo discuss the memo, can be seen in an entirely different way. Consider the following exchange: Toby: "The sense is that his instinct is to be aggressive, and you take him to safe ground." Leo (somewhat dismayed): "Okay." Toby (concerned): "Leo..." Leo: Don’t worry about it." When I first saw this, I understood it to mean that Leo was hurt with the accurate criticism, and Toby was attempting to console him about it. Now, though, especially given the look Toby gives Leo when the criticism is first mentioned (excellent pickup on your part), it could mean that Leo is hurt that he has to live with this inaccurate perception. Toby's "Leo" could even be his wanting to confront the issue head-on and let Leo know that he realizes the reality is not this way, and they should challenge the president together. And then Leo shrugs him off, deciding to ultimately take on Bartlet himself. And why does Mandy have it backwards? You answered your own question (emphasis mine): "she was such an integral part of the campaign." She was with the Bartlet crew during the campaign, but not in office. To the outsider, which she was when she wrote that memo, it looked like Leo was the one pushing the president to the middle; it was only the true insiders who could see the truth.

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 18: "Six Meetings Before Lunch"

2010-01-05T16:04:00.008-05:00

Plot Summary: When Zoey attends a college fraternity party in which one of her friends is busted for using illegal drugs, C.J. struggles to keep the embarrassing story out of the press while the White House staff celebrates the confirmation of their nominee, Judge Mendoza, for the Supreme Court. An uncomfortable Josh is assigned to talk with the administration's controversial nominee for Assistant Attorney General for civil rights who advocates that African-Americans receive financial reparations for slavery. Elsewhere, Sam crosses swords with Mallory over the issue of private school vouchers while Mandy lobbies to secure two new pandas for the National Zoo.

Click here to watch "Six Meetings Before Lunch"

Av --

Though I can't speak from years of business experience, I suppose it wouldn't be too bold a statement to say that business meetings take on many forms. The first seventeen episodes of "The West Wing" have featured all kinds of meetings, so I found it interesting that the writers felt it was important to spend the entirety of an episode focusing on this one aspect of the political arena. Why do I consider it focused on one aspect? Well, for one thing, it was a pretty self-contained episode, and, well, the episode title speaks for itself. (Although try as I did to match the number of meetings I witnessed to the number referenced in the episode, it seems the title was more a literary reference than a literal count.) In any case, though I struggled with the purpose of highlighting all these discussions/confrontations/meetings, keeping the focus on one area allowed this episode to act as sort of a microcosm, highlighting the kinds of meetings we've seen thus far, and should anticipate seeing in the future.

There's the information-gathering meeting, where one person meets another to solicit information. Clearly in Washington, especially at this level, knowledge carries with it a certain power. It can be exchanged for favors, used to strengthen (or damage) relationships, and used as currency. The beauty of the piece of information at play in this episode is its essential triviality. Zoey Bartlet attended a frat party at which a possible friend of hers was arrested for drug-related charges. What exactly was she doing there? That becomes the key piece of information C.J. seeks out from whomever she can - Charlie, Danny, Agent Toscano, Zoey herself - through a series of meetings in which she is on the less powerful end. (Hold that thought.) Though the plotline involved something relatively unimportant, a "non-story," C.J.'s process throughout is representative of what the chase for information often becomes for anyone on the staff, often C.J. herself.

There's the political strategy meeting, where two people sit down and really try to figure out the right move for the administration. Here, Toby and Mandy debate the advan-- oh, who am I kidding, that was just comic relief created to bring Toby back to being Toby, and have him stop being the guy who freaks out co-workers by genially greeting them in the hallways. The only strategy at play here was the writers strategically making Mandy even less likable than previously thought possible. This is her job, really? To bother Josh and Toby about getting a panda bear from China?

Then there's the meeting where one person needs to put the other in his or her place, knowing what's best and needing to enforce it at all costs. In what was a very strong episode for Allison Janney, C.J.'s confrontation with President Bartlet towards the end of the episode was her finest work I've seen to this point. The complex relationship between president and press secretary was alluded to in the previous episode, when C.J. is tasked with picking up Bartlet's under-the-radar signals in order to carry out his wishes. Now in this case, she, the one who has not spent most of her life as a politician, is the one who needs to tell him what the right move is. Sam's advice to "get in his face" was sound, but is much easier said than done. We have yet to see any staff member truly take the "get in his face" approach with Bartlet other than Leo, who has earned that right by being a decades-old friend and, oh yeah, chief of staff. This is the same C.J. whose previous moment in the spotlight in this episode was lip-synching "The Jackal." Though only included because Sorkin had seen Janney singing that song on set and felt he had to write it in somehow, it actually gave her showdown scene more weight - C.J. Cregg: capable of acting the fool a little to entertain the office, but also not afraid to get in the face of her boss, the president of the United States. (Also - that "Jackal" scene gave us this, presented without comment.)

Finally, there are meetings involving policy debate. We've seen many before, and will see many again. (I'd think. Assuming this show stays about the White House communications staff and doesn't quickly spin off into a National Geographic series on panda bears.) The beauty of the two featured here - Josh and an Assistant Attorney General nominee debating slavery reparations, and Sam and Mallory debating school vouchers - was that while both appeared to be true debates, with each side firmly believing its argument, both were revealed to be "simply" intellectual arguments. We got to see Sam teach a lesson and Josh learn one. In Sam's case, the man who "is dumb, most of the time [he's] just playing smart" played his part perfectly, arguing the opposition's position without ever admitting to his personal belief. (Watch the scene again where Mallory grills Sam before "The Jackal" scene; she asks him if this is his position; he avoids the question entirely.) Sam was tasked with preparing the opponent's position (Mallory should have followed her instinct when she realized Sam was referring to the liberals as "the other guys"), and he scored points with a girl he likes by respecting her as an intelligent person worthy of debating the issue with, and then finally revealing himself to be on her side. Josh, meanwhile, could use the lesson he got in academic debate. His job has always been to win the fight. It's in his blood. It's the only way he knows how to debate. His life has been so dedicated to the fight that he identifies the day of his father's death as "the night of the Illinois primary"; that comes to his mind instead of a date. Jeff Breckenridge, the nominee for Assistant Attorney General for Civil Rights, has his own motivations for spending most of the debate with Josh arguing on a practical level; maybe by insisting on reparations as a non-theoretical discussion it's the only way he gets to discuss it with the White House at all. But once he's in he realizes he has an opportunity to educate Josh, to engage in real discourse, with the ramifications being more than reparations. His lasting message rings true about almost any discipline: "We're meant to keep discussing and debating and we're meant to read books by great historical scholars and then talk about them." I think he meant TV shows, too.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I don't know about you, but the business meetings I have attended have all followed a similar structure: four or five other people in the room, all more important than me, and I try not to make eye contact with any of them and pray that none of them actually know my name.

The opening scene was perfectly done and supports my suspicion that many people who get into politics are professional athlete wannabes who couldn't hack it on the playing field. There are a lot of similarities in terms of the competitiveness and the focus on winning and losing. I can only imagine that the feeling of winning a political campaign is not all that different from that of winning a championship. Those who were not physically gifted enough to do the latter attempt the former. We see Toby reiterate his superstitious instructions not to "tempt fate," as if he is a pitcher 7 innings into a perfect game. And you can't really beat seeing White House senior staffers booing and shouting "loser" at a United States Senator who votes against their candidate. Toby and Josh may have ended up working in the White House, but they both really wish they were playing in the majors.

I really enjoyed the Zoey/C.J. storyline because unlike other instances where this show has given us a different perspective by offering us a behind the scenes look at a particular event, here the entire story occurs behind the scenes. As C.J. reminds the president, the two of them, Charlie, and Zoey are the only people in the world that know Zoey lied, rendering it a non-story. But it was oh-so-close to being much more, wasn't it? What if Gina hadn't neutralized Edgar Drumm so quickly and he was able to grill Zoey for longer? What if Zoey had confided in one of her friends what really happened? What if C.J. had tipped her hand to Danny that something was amiss? What if C.J. was unable to keep the president out of the briefing room? Any of these things go awry and the press has their hands on a potential bombshell. And it's entirely possible, and even likely, that Zoey had the purest of intentions and did nothing wrong here (as Gina argues), but when you have drugs and the president's daughter, it doesn't take much else to turn a non-story into the scandal of the year. This was a story that to the citizens of "The West Wing" universe didn't even exist, but to the behind-the-scenes television viewers was an exciting account of a press secretary on top of her game.

And this was a very big episode for C.J. with regard to her relationship with the president, which is a relationship I have tried to focus on more in this current trip through the series than I have in previous ones. She is able to convince the president to follow her advice by demonstrating to him that she "gets it" both on a personal level ("sometimes 19-year-old girls lie when they don't have to") and on a political one. While Sam was the one that gave her the speech about how she had to "get in the president's face," I'm not sure he (or Josh or Toby for that matter) would have been able to do so with the right balance of personal and professional to keep him at bay.

But of course the three men were busy anyways: Toby, as an unwilling participant in Josh's attempt to mess with Mandy (or was it Mandy that was an unwilling participant in Josh's attempt to mess with Toby?); Sam, having a fake argument with Mallory; and Josh, trying to "explain to a black civil rights lawyer why I don't owe him any money." Let's address those briefly in order.

The most confusing part of the Toby/Mandy meeting is how seriously Mandy seems to be taking this issue. Given her credentials and job title, I would think she would scoff at the notion of being tasked with the job of finding a new panda bear. Isn't that a job better suited to someone who works at a zoo than to someone with a doctorate in political science? Not only does she take this matter seriously, but she seems offended at the notion that Toby doesn't.

This episode was Sam being Sam: innocent, naive, idealistic. He risks his relationship with a girl that appears to be interested in him in order to engage in a serious discussion about school vouchers. At any point, he could have told her the truth - that he agrees with her and wrote the memo for opposition prep - and everything would have been fine. But Sam Seaborn can't miss out on an opportunity for a good, old-fashioned public policy debate, and he bites. And sure, it works out for him in the end, but there is no way you can convince me that that was his plan. He's not smooth enough for that.

As for Josh, his meeting was the most intense but also the most poignant of the episode. As a grandchild of Holocaust survivors, reparations is a topic I have considered, discussed, and debated both internally and with others over the years. It seems that Josh has as well. ("You know, Jeff... I'd love to give you the money, I really would. But I'm a little short of cash right now. It seems the S.S. officer forgot to give my grandfather his wallet back when he let him out of Birkenau.") It's an issue that doesn't have a right answer, I think, which Breckenridge ultimately admits. I'm not sure I totally buy the classic argument that since "no amount of money can make up for it," even putting a dollar value on it cheapens it and acts as a forgiveness of unforgivable crimes. Monetary payment is how a person or a country "compensates" for wrongs they can't undo; that's why we have wrongful death suits. That being said, I don't think the Germans owes me any money, which would be the comparable analogy for what Breckenridge is advocating. I didn't suffer anything at the hands of the Germans, and certainly not from their current government. It's a tricky issue, one that needs to be discussed and debated in the larger context of persecution and bigotry, which is what Breckenridge's point was all along. He got Josh's attention and mine as well.

Two other minor items that I enjoyed immensely:

The book the president was reading when Charlie interrupts him towards the end is "110 Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation." In his most recent book, which I read an excerpt of this past September, A.J. Jacobs (as only A.J. Jacobs can do) attempts to live and abide by Washington's rules of social etiquette. Hilarity ensues.

When trying to define the boundaries of his rules for the press, the president declares that he doesn't "give a damn if it was the Bergen County Shopper's Guide." Despite having grown up in Bergen County, I never subscribed to or even heard of the Shopper's Guide, but I enjoyed the shout-out nonetheless.

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 17: "The White House Pro-Am"

2009-12-17T09:12:00.006-05:00

Plot summary: The President's and first lady's staffs feud over rival agendas when her public statements about foreign child-labor abuse inspires a Congresswoman to attach an amendment that will surely torpedo a long-delayed international tariff bill favored by the president. What's more, when the revered chairman of the Federal Reserve dies, the president is under pressure to name the former head's top lieutenant as his successor - the same handsome man who seriously dated the first lady in college. Away from the White House, Zoey clashes with her boyfriend Charlie when she suggests that they not step out together at an upcoming club opening at the request of the Secret Service which is concerned about recent hate letters concerning their interracial relationship. Josh asks opinionated Toby to mind his manners prior to parleying with two important Congressmen.

Click here (Part 1) and here (Part 2) to watch "The White House Pro-Am"

Av --

What, no golf? Though I'll admit I had never heard of the White House hosting a golf tournament, the sports fan in me was excited by the title of this episode, hoping to see some of the actors get a chance to show off their golf swings. (Martin Sheen and Richard Schiff, incidentally, have 16 and 25 handicaps, respectively, but Rob Lowe tops them at 14.5.) Instead, we got a pretty strong episode centered around one theme: relationships. The many personal and professional relationships that exist within the White House are crucial elements to the functionality of the people within, and, by extension, the White House itself. No matter what person, or what party, is in power, relationships will always be one of the most important facets of a presidency. One imagines the focus on this unchanging aspect of political life was the impetus to spend copious amounts of time reciting tidbits from a book about life in the early 1900's and, as a contrast, highlight the many changes the country has undergone. (Note: One doesn't imagine this. In fact, one has no idea why this book was discussed to the extent it was. I guess it's one of those things we have to write off as "one of those things," akin to Sam's Alabama/Ten Commandments obsession a few episodes back.) Anyway, as many different relationships were featured here, I decided to go bullet points and delve into five relationships featured in one way or another. I'm including both individual relationships as well as those that are meant to represent more than just the individuals involved. (You'll see what I mean.) I'll take it in order from least intriguing/important in this episode to most.

Josh and Toby - Though their meeting with representatives of the Congressional liberal base was probably the least relevant thing that takes place in the episode, it highlights the difference between Toby, whose goal is winning at all costs, and Josh, who shares the goal, but often needs to get there diplomatically. Even though Josh is frustrated with Toby's behavior, he doesn't give him too hard a time about it because he knows Toby's attitude won't change. And it's a good thing for us; few things are more enjoyable on this show than watching Toby having to deal with people and things he doesn't want to.

Charlie and Zoey - Here's a typical relationship between college-age boy and college-age girl. You know, other than his working directly for the most powerful man in the world and her being guarded by secret service agents at all times. While we have previously been cautioned of the potential dangers of their going out, seeing some of the practical ramifications was obviously difficult to stomach. It's worth noting that in this one respect, their relationship is not actually changed all that much by their extra levels of security. After all, we saw Zoey and Charlie run into trouble in "Mr. Willis of Ohio" when nobody knew who she was. The challenges they face were (and, in some parts of the country, probably still are) faced by many a young interracial couple, the only difference being Charlie's inability to stand up in the face of hate, the choice being taken out of his hands by his superiors. While his conviction is admirable, I hope he'll take Danny's sage advice to heart: be the one guy in her life who's hassle-free.

The senior staff and Congress - One issue that has been dealt with more in previous episodes, and I anticipate being dealt with a lot more in future ones, is the symbiotic relationship between Bartlet's staff and Congress. (The inventor of the term symbiosis, Heinrich Anton de Bary, called it "the living together of unlike organisms." He may have been talking about biology, but the definition couldn't be more appropriate here.) The two need each other: Bartlet needs congressmen to vote with him, support him, and work with him, and congressmen need Bartlet to stand behind them, back their positions, and use his influence to help them get re-elected or elected to new positions. The more traditional manifestation of this relationship is the Josh/Toby meeting to court more votes for the GFTMAA (not nearly important enough to reference beyond the acronym), but the more intriguing one is when Abbey, reluctantly acting on behalf of the president's staff, negotiates with a Congresswoman willing to compromise the bill's passing for her own political agenda. I think these kind of things probably happen often enough that the Congresswoman backing down is realistic (and we saw some similar bargaining in "Five Votes Down"), but it will be fascinating to see the genuine showdown that will ensue when a Congressman won't back down.

The president's staff and the first lady's staff - This one can actually be summed up in one back-and-forth between Lily Mays, Abbey's chief of staff, and Sam: "We've gotta find a way for our two staffs to work together better than this." "No we don't. We need to find a way for your staff to work better with our staff." Sam's correct (and kind of ballsy) in calling out Abbey for her numerous missteps this episode, and he's right to assert control over the first lady's public appearances, stances, and media quotes. An intelligent, charismatic first lady can be a terrific asset to a presidency, but she and her staff need to remember that "your guy's married to our guy and our guy won an election."

Jed and Abbey - The first two times we met Abbey were briefly at a state dinner, then as doctor/loving wife during Jed's MS flareup. Now we finally get to see her as Abbey Bartlet, first lady, and it was a very satisfying look indeed. I'll address the elephant in the room and say that I really don't think they were looking at Hillary here; she hasn't been cast as another politician spearheading a massive policy initiative; Abbey's background is not in law, and she seems to be taking the pre-Clinton approach of taking on a family-friendly issue (Nancy Reagan: war on drugs, Barbara Bush: literacy) as her cause. Watching her with Jed, you can see what he sees in her: intelligence, passion, and someone not afraid to call him out when he's wrong. The thing about this specific argument is Jed is in the right - Abbey leaking her support for Ron Ehrlich to be the new Fed chairman created a problem for him - but instead of explaining to her why it's a problem and why he's waiting a day to make the decision, he "staffed it out to C.J," because he didn't like that she was sending messages through a medium. And though Abbey was right to be angered by that, she has to know that putting out that statement of support will create a story, not to mention touching on her husband's sensitivities as a man, even if they are decades old. (I think Jed's waiting was less about not wanting to confirm a former boyfriend of Abbey's, and more about trying to stall making a big decision, even when you already know what you're going to do. We've all been there.) The battle that ensues (quite well-acted, by the way) follows the natural course - the built-up tension that leads to anger and raised voices gives way to concessions and apologies, and the Bartlets walk out of the Oval Office arm in arm. In a golf pro-am, the winning pair is usually the one that gets the best teamwork from the "pro" and the "am," each one respecting the other's talents and understanding each's own role. Maybe this episode was about golf, after all.

-- Binny

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Binny --

Sorry Binny, no golf. Although maybe it would have been fun to see the staffers paired up with pro golfers. I'd say Donna and Tiger would go well together.

You are clearly correct that this episode was about the series of different relationships we are presented with and the way they are all interwoven. This isn't necessarily how we would normally picture the president but in a way he is one giant relationship manager: he has a hand either directly or indirectly in all of these and needs to either deal with them himself or manage the people who are handling them. I'll chime in on some of the examples you raised:

Josh and Toby - This was actually my favorite storyline of the episode. You hit it right on the head when you said that there are few things more enjoyable than seeing Toby being forced into a situation he wants no part of. Indeed, when Josh tries to encourage him, telling him that "this is why you have a reputation as a pain in the ass" he doesn't let it bother him. "I cultivated that reputation," he proudly replies. It is incredible how much pleasure one can get as a viewer from watching Toby Ziegler squirm. And let's definitely add "How about you be the good cop, I'll be the cop who didn't go to the meeting" to our list of Tobyisms. What list of Tobyisms, you might ask? The one I just started.

Charlie and Zoey - I wonder if things would have played out differently if the news that Charlie couldn't go to the club opening had come from the president rather than from Zoey. I think she was right to be the one to tell him from a big-picture relationship approach but I don't think there is any way he reacts the way he does if he hears it directly from the president or the Secret Service. That could have saved them all some unnecessary frustration. I don't blame Charlie for being upset initially, but I was surprised that hours later he hadn't yet figured out on his own that this wasn't Zoey's fault (or even the Secret Service's, really) and that he was making too big of a deal out of it. The point Danny makes about him being the thing in her life that is hassle-free seems to be the point that ultimately convinces him, but I think it was his earlier point that really resonated with Charlie: "One of these days they're gonna miss her and hit me." Charlie realizes that this isn't just about him being a tough guy and risking himself getting hurt to make a point. He would be putting others in harms way, as well.

The president's staff and the first lady's staff - I loved how condescending Sam is to Lily throughout this episode. You could almost see him roll his eyes when she told him that they wanted the news cycle. And Sam is right: the first lady and her staff are an extension of the president's staff, not an entity in their own right. They shouldn't have an independent agenda and they should never go rogue. I loved the reasoning Sam used to explain to the first lady why she should run things by his office before she does them: "And I don't not believe that exercise is gonna make me any healthier. But I didn't go to medical school, you did. You say so and I go to the gym." (As an aside, apparently this minor plot line was throw into the episode as Sorkin poking fun at Rob Lowe for his obsession with going to the gym every day.)

Jed and Abbey - This was a situation where rather than trying to determine who was right, you try to determine who was less wrong. Abbey shouldn't have given a quote without running it through proper channels and the president should have just spoken to her directly about it (as she points out, they share a bed). They both behaved pretty childishly and foolishly in this episode, but it was refreshing to see that a couple's dynamic doesn't change just because they live in the White House now.

-- Av

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Av --

One more I want to toss in here, though I feel like this one will likely be covered more extensively in the future:

The president and the media - I was going to say something about the president's relationship with the media, how the flow of information can work both ways, how one can help inform the other and the personal relationship between a president and an individual reporter can be crucial for both... I was going to say something, but I was distracted by President Bartlet's abject unprofessionalism in trying to coax a source out of Danny (a source, it's worth adding, that wasn't even Danny's to begin with). I'm with Leo here - I was strongly urging the president not to have this conversation. It probably didn't hurt his relationship with Danny to ask, but he came off looking like an amateur, with Danny being the pro. (Incidentally, I do not know Timothy Busfeld's handicap, though it no longer is annoying me. Though I still have strong feelings about the conflict of interest when it comes to his relationship with C.J., I concede Danny's kind of growing on me.)

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 16: "20 Hours in L.A."

2009-12-09T16:10:00.004-05:00

Plot Summary: President Bartlet and several of his staff head to Los Angeles for a whirlwind visit that is topped off by a star-studded fundraiser hosted by a wealthy film honcho who threatens to cancel the bash unless Bartlet announces his opposition to a congressional bill banning gays in the military. Back in Washington, Leo tries to convince a stubborn Vice President Hoynes to break the Senate voting deadlock over an ethanol tax credit favored by the White House. Elsewhere, Josh learns that feisty campaign manager Joey Lucas is staying in his Los Angeles hotel and he eagerly anticipates seeing her again. The President takes a meeting where he is warned about not supporting an amendment banning flag-burning and later checks up on Secret Service security for his daughter Zoey -- and is unafraid to close down a celebrity-filled restaurant where she's lunching.

Click here to watch "20 Hours in L.A."

Av --

Considering how much time sitting presidents spend outside Washington, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see an episode centered around a trip to Los Angeles. After all, as Leo helpfully reminds us, they do have 54 electoral votes out there. (Well, 55 now.) Sending the show out West provided ample opportunity to throw in some fun moments (Donna and C.J. anxiously preparing for their minimal free time), cameos (loved the idea of C.J. thanking Jay Leno for laying off Leo drinking jokes), and inside-Hollywood mocking (any and all conversations revolving around working in "development"). But, as a trip to California is still a business trip for most of the staff (actually, all of the staff; I guess everyone was really working except Zoey), we got to see how the political game gets played outside the Beltway.

Essentially, the politics in this episode boil down to two intense disagreements, one of which Bartlet wins and one of which he loses. The win comes against Ted Marcus, the billionaire studio chairman intent on having Bartlet denounce a bill banning gays in the military. While Marcus is surely a man who understands public perception (hell, most of his fortune probably came from pitching blockbuster movies to the masses), it takes three conversations (two with Josh - one unseen - and one with the president) to make him "get" why Bartlet can't just speak up. Personally, I think the character of Ted Marcus would have understood this concept a lot faster, and the storyline was only taken as far as it was to contrast it with the other tense issue, namely the one with Vice President Hoynes. Bartlet is shown as having superior political acumen to Marcus in order to highlight that he can go out to Los Angeles and stand up to the big boys with the big wallets, but taking on Washington insiders who understand the game just as well as he himself does isn't so easy. While Hoynes has been an antagonist to this point, it's hard not to sympathize with his predicament. Breaking a Senate tie 50-50 by voting against the president is simply unheard of, but voting with the president and switching positions on an issue he had so firmly taken a stand on is political suicide for someone with the Oval Office on his big-picture agenda. (The "flip-flop" campaign by Hoynes's opponent would write itself.) While it's debatable whether the president's staff "set him up," Hoynes fairly calls out said staff for being "remarkably smug" (was anyone not thinking about Josh Lyman when he said that?), and honorably stands his ground until Leo and Sam concede that he's right. And while Bartlet isn't happy with taking the loss at first, he also comes around and genuinely confesses to Hoynes as well.

One other interesting thing I appreciated (other than the foreshadowing involving Zoey; meeting her Secret Service agent was a good scene, but one I fear is a step towards a perilous story) is the fallibility of Josh. I'm not just talking about his luck - or lack thereof - with the ladies; seeing his crush on Joey end up with him realizing she's shacking up with the ignoramus Al Kiefer was kind of... well not sad, but whatever's a step below that. I'm talking about when Josh gets talking points from Sam and Toby on what to say back to Ted Marcus. Josh is never one to back down from an argument, nor does he usually find himself at a loss for how to get people to be on his side. (See: "Five Votes Down," scene where he threatens to knock off a Congressman in the primary if he doesn't vote their way.) But here, caught off guard by a furious Marcus, maybe even slightly intimidated, Josh - the same Josh who ignored all reason and good judgment last episode by arrogantly taking on a press corps he was ill-equipped to handle - decided he needed help. Instead of making the situation worse with Marcus, he left there knowing he needed other people's take on this, and didn't hesitate to get it. Am I saying he should be beatified for doing what millions of working people do every day - ask their co-workers for help on a work issue they are struggling with? No, but given Josh's general approach and recent issues with these things, it was a nice touch.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I'll start where you ended: the fallibility of Josh. I liked the layer that Sorkin added to his character to make him seem like more of a real person. We, or at least I, sometimes have a tendency to see the people who work at the (real) White House, specifically the senior staff as almost super-human: they're brilliant, work absurd hours, and turn down higher-paying jobs for the opportunity to serve their country. It's sometimes easy to forget that they're actual, normal people who can develop crushes and have their hearts broken. I'm glad that romance isn't something that pokes its head into the narrative too often, but in a situation like this, it did just the right amount and it worked. Josh seeing Joey standing in a robe next to Al Kiefer was a moment that felt very genuine. Another good example from this episode: Margaret being bitter about not getting to go along on the California trip. This is the type of thing that a "regular" person might obviously be resentful about, and it was nice to see that the assistant to the 2nd-most powerful person in the world also is.

An example of the exact opposite: the president's joke to Charlie, Josh, and Toby about how getting to notify the pilot that he's ready to leave is the "best part of my job." These people have flown with him many times before. That joke was for our benefit, not theirs. I'm not sure why, but this bothered me. (As does the point you made about Marcus. There is no way the simple reality of what the president explained to him could elude a media mogul like Ted Marcus who would presumably be much more media and P.R. savvy than how he is presented here.)

As you may have guessed, it wasn't an accident that I referred to Leo above as the "2nd-most powerful person in the world" because, in this episode, he once again clashes with the vice president, the man who traditionally is thought to hold that title. As we have seen, however, in practice and even in principle the Vice President is essentially powerless. Leo is quick to point out that breaking ties in the Senate is one of Hoynes' two constitutional duties (the other of course being maintaining a pulse). I loved the citation to the constitution here as a nod to their earlier conversation in "Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc" in which Hoynes challenges Leo: "Well, let me consult Article Two of the Constitution, 'cause I'm not a hundred percent sure where this office gets the authority to direct me to the men's room!" And Hoynes is 100% right, except for the fact that he's totally wrong. Technically speaking, the VP is a prominent, elected member of the national government and the Chief of Staff is an appointed adviser. But in practice, in this administration particularly, the VP is a figurehead and the Chief of Staff is the president's right arm. When they do battle, we know who is ultimately going to prevail.

To me, the most interesting issue raised in this episode was the flag-burning amendment. Not because I find it to actually be an interesting debate but because it featured the president showing why he is the president: he is able to remove his politics, ideals, and beliefs from the issue and be thoughtful about it. You have people screaming "free speech!" on one side and others screaming "the flag is a symbol of freedom!" on the other (the "free speech" side has a much catchier chant) and then you have the president being able to make the most poignant point of all: it's a cow's opinion. This debate is totally theoretical and having Unites States representatives, senators, and the president wasting time on such a meaningless issue is ridiculous, an argument so eloquently presented by Eddie Vedder. And any time Jed Bartlett and Eddie Vedder see eye to eye on an issue, you know where I'll stand.

Other notes:

The prevailing term for Josh's tirade against the congressman from "Five Votes Down" on the prominent West Wing message board was "Goes Gazebo." Let's use that from now on.

In this episode, Donna sees "Matt Perry" at the party and chases after him. Down the line, there will be a recurring character played by none other than Matthew Perry. I love when stuff like this happens, even if it makes my head hurt a little. (Another great, recent West Wing-related example: on this season of Entourage, a character played by Gary Cole tries to sign Aaron Sorkin, played by himself. Gary Cole also plays a recurring character on The West Wing, which Aaron Sorkin created. A very bad example of this: the Julia Roberts/Tess Ocean scene in Ocean's 12, a movie I still believe was made bad and ridiculous on purpose.)

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 15: "Celestial Navigation"

2009-12-03T10:17:00.004-05:00

Plot summary: Sam and Toby are dispatched to Connecticut for some damage control and to secure the secret release of President Bartlet's primary choice for the Supreme Court, who has been jailed for alleged drunk driving and resisting arrest. Meanwhile, Josh is a guest lecturer at a college class to talk about working for the President and he recounts the previous week's flare-ups, which include his feeble attempt to fill in as the White House spokesman at a press conference where he promises that the President has "a secret plan to fight inflation," and the media glare that engulfs the African-American HUD secretary who publicly labeled a prominent Republican as a racist.

Click here to watch "Celestial Navigation"

Av --

I almost feel like this episode was written on a dare. Sure, I picture Sorkin being challenged, you can write an episode for a show about the White House when the plot involves a crucial House vote, or preparation for a State of the Union address, or an international conflict. But how about you try to capture a "boring" day for the senior staff? Leaving aside the reality that presumably no such thing exists for the real West Wingers, why don't you just write an episode about a typical day in the White House? It's ironic, in a sense, because the obvious conceit of the show itself is to portray a "typical" presidential administration; the issues and events that are dealt with by this staff are meant to represent those that can confront any staff. But to try to capture a "typical" day? What an atypical "West Wing" episode.

There's a powerful scene in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, where a main character is injured in a gruesome car accident. The beautifully-constructed sequence illustrates how the accident would not have occurred if one of several small, random things, some of which didn't involve the accident parties themselves, had happened even slightly differently. This confluence of events, this notion that, as Benjamin puts it, "sometimes we're on a collision course and we just don't know it," is a known truism of life, to be sure, and applicable to every person every day on some level. But here we get a glimpse at just how magnified this theme can be in the White House. Had one of several different things happened (or not happened), as Josh points out to his audience, the typical day would have been just that. (My personal favorite "argh, if only...": why couldn't Sam leave C.J. and her teeth alone!) While it certainly would have been preferable for the staff (and less exciting television) had the day gone as planned, I couldn't help but sense the realism in the way things unfolded, in that watching the way actual presidential politics operate, you just know it's always going to be something. There is no move the president or his administration can make, no matter how minute it may seem, that won't bring about the requisite analysis, assessments, scrutiny, and criticism. (Yes, there must always be criticism. Even when the president picks a dog, there must be criticism.) Point being, even if Deborah O'Leary had backtracked on her calling a Congressman a racist, even if Bartlet had not taken Danny's bait on that subject, even if C.J. had not had a root canal, even if Mendoza had played the role of dutiful Supreme Court nominee, something else would happen. The day just can't go off as scheduled. Josh's way of framing the O'Leary/inflation episode as a story with a beginning, middle, and end is cute, but the most significant thing he said was all the way at the beginning: "There’s a schedule and there’s a structure to be sure, and to a certain extent it starts out as a 9-to-5 job, but you can pretty much count on it being blown to hell by 9:30." As much as they want to, as Sam says, "control the news cycle," more often than not the course of direction is out of their hands, seemingly controlled by unknown forces. Call it, say, celestial navigation.

At the same time, one way to stay in control is to assign responsibility to people you know won't lead you off-course. Three failures of people to stay on course were showcased here, to varying degrees. On the one hand you have Secretary O'Leary, who falls into a political trap despite her good intentions, and Josh, who leads himself into a complete media mess with nothing but smug and condescending intentions. They made mistakes, sure, but after receiving their rightful admonishing, they can be trusted not to make them again. (Well, Josh is bound to let his arrogance get the best of him again, but at least he will be sure not to - or, I should say, won't be allowed to be in a position to - make that mistake again.) The case of Roberto Mendoza, however, is a different one. We learn that he has a history of going off-message, of speaking out, of basically doing everything the administration needs him not to do. The culmination of this is the stubbornness he displays when Toby tries to free him from his presumed racially-provoked arrest, insisting on proving a point by letting the system do its work. Toby's clash with Mendoza in that cell was intriguing: here are two wise, good-hearted political idealists, except one "gets it" and understands how the perception game needs to be played, and the other either doesn't get it, doesn't care about it, or both. I'm glad Mendoza gets on board in the end, though if his noble, unaffected way of looking at his status as a potential justice is at all changed, it will have been a shame.

One final note: I know I like comedy, and I know I find comedy, well, funny. But I'll admit that the science, the conceptual analysis of comedy, is something I wish I knew more about than I actually do. I'm especially fond of television comedy, and though I can tell you why I find certain shows funnier than others, my ability to fully explain it is still a work in progress. This is all my way of saying that one of the most enjoyable aspects of "The West Wing" thus far has been its ability to amuse, and this specific episode was no exception, yet it somehow felt different. My inclination is to say that the core comedic elements of the show to this point have been sardonicism and sharp, incisive wit, while in this episode they went for more traditional, sitcom-y jokes (I was half-expecting a laugh track during some of the fun at C.J.'s expense) and a running, irresistible gag involving Allison Janney speaking with a mouth full of cotton balls. And damn if that wasn't just flat-out funny.

-- Binny

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Binny --

It's interesting that you saw this as an atypical episode you "suggest" Sorkin wrote "on a dare" because while it may be atypical in practice, I feel like on some level this was precisely the type of episode Sorkin envisioned when he first conceived the show. He wanted to do a show that focused on the president's staff more than the president himself and that dealt more with what goes on behind the scenes than with the forefront. This episode did exactly that. The president barely appears or plays a role in the plot and the storyline focuses on seemingly minor staff issues and reactions rather than major policy initiatives. Obviously, in order to be consistently interesting as a series that model would have to be abandoned, but I feel like "Celestial Navigation" was exactly the type of episode Sorkin always had in mind.

"Why couldn't Sam leave C.J. alone," you ask. What type of person is really "nuts for dental hygiene"? Probably the same type of person who in response to a rhetorical, "How does a person do that" (drive from Canada to Washington D.C. when summoned to the White House), takes it literally and responds with his best guess of the route Justice Mendoza will take.

Your point about how all the "if only's" are kind of moot because there would have been something else for people to pounce on is spot on. This is even more true nowadays, as the media has progressed over the last decade in this regard. Once something starts, there is virtually no way to walk it back without doing something that someone will crush you for.

Things I liked in this episode:

1. More examples of college girls being enamored with Josh. Realistic? Maybe not. Hilariously fun, though? Absolutely.

2. The first usage (I believe) of the in media res narrative device. Given that Sorkin used this in virtually every episode of "Studio 60," I can only assume we'll be seeing more of this here.

3. It made me like Josh as a real person. The same way when Jed Bartlett delivers a speech in the show it makes me think "man, I would love to hear that guy speak," this episode made me think "man, I would love to attend a panel that Josh Lyman was on." Maybe our friends can let us know if there are any coming up.

4. It was damn funny. My favorite moments: a) Toby interjecting “‘of course not,’ she answered wisely" as C.J.reads the section of the transcript where Wooden asks O’Leary if she’s calling him a racist; and b) the president taking Josh to school in front of the staff, asking him, “are you telling me that not only did you invent a secret plan to fight inflation, but now you don’t support it?”

And this wouldn’t be Blogging "The West Wing" if we didn’t broach our favorite theme: pragmatism vs. idealism. We see this struggle in two separate conversations. First, Leo tries to convince Secretary O’Leary that she has to apologize. Her argument is “I called it like I saw it” and even challenges Leo for not taking a stronger stance, wondering “when are you guys gonna stop running for president?” Leo understands that her apologizing is the “cost of doing business” and the only way to fix the problem and end the story. Similarly, Toby and Mendoza butt heads over the very same ideas. Mendoza knows that was done to him was legally and morally wrong and he wants to let the justice system sort things out the way it’s supposed to work. He doesn’t want help and he doesn’t want special treatment. Toby knows better. "There’s nothing about this that doesn’t stink,” he admits, sympathizing with the justice’s situation. But there’s “nothing about it that wouldn’t be better if you were a Supreme Court Justice,” he explains. Said simpler: keep your eye on the prize. In both situations, in the battle between idealism and pragmatism, it is pragmatism that carries the day.

-- Av

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Av --

While the persistent battle between idealism and pragmatism has been covered quite extensively both on the show and in our correspondence to this point, your bringing it up here made me realize something else. You mention two examples of people we see going through the usual struggle with having to put aside being in the right in order to "play the game." And Deborah O'Leary's story is in line with several we've seen already. But Roberto Mendoza is different for a very basic reason: he comes from a different branch of government. If confirmed, he will be in a position where he doesn't have to answer to anyone - no re-election to worry about, no political party forcing his hand, no special interest group he needs to worry about pleasing. A Supreme Court justice is blessed with the ability to go with idealism every time. Mendoza's refusal to fall in line with the Bartlet administration has been frustrating for them, no doubt, but it also re-enforces why he'd make a terrific jurist. I think the point Toby tries to get across is that he admires this quality of Mendoza, but needs him to just put it aside until after he's confirmed, the last time politics should get in his way.

Your belief that this episode represents the original Sorkin prototype is interesting and kind of ironic. Interesting because you may be right - for a show conceived around a behind-the-scenes look at the White House, this episode couldn't have met that ideal any better. (Here's proof: though it wasn't as strong an episode as "Pilot", from a narrative standpoint this could have worked as the first episode of the series.) Ironic because you note that the goal was to create a show more about staff and issues, less about policy initiatives and major presidential storylines, but that the show became what it was "in order to be consistently interesting as a series." So when we see O'Leary's and Toby's pragmatism winning out over idealism, are we seeing an extended metaphor for the show's modus operandi?

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 14: "Take This Sabbath Day"

2009-03-19T11:18:00.005-04:00

Plot summary: After the Supreme Court refuses to stay the execution of a Federal prisoner convicted of killing two drug kingpins, President Bartlet must decide whether or not to commute his sentence in less than 48 hours, so he calls upon his sagacious childhood priest for guidance. Meanwhile, even Toby feels the heat over the controversial issue when he hears a sermon on capital punishment from his rabbi. Elsewhere, a hearing-challenged, combative campaign manager begs for an audience with the President when her Democratic congressional candidate has purposely been underfunded by his party before the upcoming election to unseat an incumbent.

Click here to watch "Take This Sabbath Day"

Av --

Separating my personal beliefs versus how I objectively view this episode is not going to be easy, but I'm going to try. You see, growing up Jewish, especially Orthodox, seeing people who looked like us on TV or in movies was quite the pleasant surprise. Hey, that guy's wearing a kippah! That girl's speaking Hebrew! Those people are davening! (That guy's orchestrating a major financial scam!) As I got older, my reactions went from being excited to see religious Jews portrayed on TV to a variety of emotions raging from slightly annoyed to quite furious at the inaccuracies of the portrayals, often occurring in the most minor - and therefore easily researched - ways. Recently, my enjoyment of good episodes of various series, including "The Sopranos," "Grey's Anatomy," and "Curb Your Enthusiasm," has been compromised due to my negative feelings about seeing someone I should be able to relate to quite viscerally but feel I have nothing in common with. Anyway, seeing a rabbi on screen espousing that the Torah is "just plain wrong by any modern standard" is bothersome, though in defense of Sorkin, he didn't make it up - he got it from his own rabbi. So while my initial reaction was to criticize Sorkin for using this episode as a podium for his own beliefs about the relevance of biblical law in modern times, I think it's the concept that this can be - and very much is - a rabbinical position that bothers me, not the implausibility. The true implausibility is seeing David Proval, "Sopranos" gangster, with a kippah on his head, saying, "vengeance is not Jewish."

Where was I? Oh yes, separating personal beliefs versus an objective position. Sounds like a Bartletian dilemma of the highest degree. You knew right from the get-go this was going to be an issue episode, an Important Episode, from the lack of "previously"'s, a move only repeated twice more during the series. And as it became clear this was a death penalty episode, I became skeptical that they were going to go the route of a typical "here's one side of an issue, here's the other" episode. But I credit Sorkin for three things. 1: He managed to find a storyline to make capital punishment, usually a state issue, a White House one. 2: He completely accepted as valid being in favor of the death penalty, despite it not being the position of the administration. (Understandably, he didn't seem as compelled to do the same for gun control.) 3: Most importantly, he didn't make the episode about which side is right in the death penalty debate; the real issue at play was how the people in the White House could reconcile their own opinions and religious beliefs with the will of the American people and the constitutional responsibilities of the president.

The relationship between the death penalty and religion - at least through the lens of this episode - is fascinating. Yes, the origins of capital punishment are biblical. Yes, the founders probably had God on their minds when they instituted the death penalty in America. (Okay, they were more likely just bringing along laws from the old country. But those founders probably took it from the Bible.) But just because it has religious underpinnings ("We don’t execute people on the Sabbath") doesn't mean it's automatically archaic. A logical, judicial argument could be made for "Eye for an eye," a point driven home when we see Charlie, a young, educated and (presumably) liberal guy, tell Bartlet he'd execute his mother's killer himself, given the chance. The 71% of Americans cited by Bartlet who support the death penalty could support it for any of a number of reasons. And the 29% who don't could oppose it for the same amount of reasons. Just ask Joey Lucas: "The state shouldn't kill people." In Bartlet's case the reason that stands tallest is executing someone (or, in his case, not stopping an execution) violates his religious beliefs. (Credit Sorkin for a fourth thing: creating a liberal president heavily influenced by religion.) While it was certainly an issue he struggled with mightily, I think not staying the execution is more in line with his presidential philosophy: "It’s helpful in those situations not to think of yourself as the man but as the office." While we've discussed the issue of electing a man to the office in part based on belief in the person and his own judgment, it's certainly extremely difficult to defend said judgment if it's done in the name of religion. Which is why, to be honest, I had a hard time seeing where Toby came from. I get Sam - he was coming from a moral, classic liberal approach. (And personal; he was trying to help his friend in the public defender's office.) But Toby, who understands the concept of public opinion better than anybody? I can't believe he legitimately tried to sell the president on a decision that would cause a hellish political fallout. (Though I did appreciate his more Talmudic, nuanced approach to the issue.)

In the end the issue that loomed largest for Bartlet seemed to be how to do something he felt he had to do, be it out of respect for the office or for political expediency, or both, despite it amounting to a personal violation of his religion. Though it was a bit harsh, I respect Father Cavanaugh (Karl Malden was the best-used guest star to date) using a classic parable in calling Bartlet out on his purported annoyance in having received no wisdom from God. From the second Bartlet got back from his trip and had this issue on the table he knew what the decision would boil down to, and deep down he always knew what he was going to do. In the end, he had to take a hit personally, leaving him with nothing to ask for but forgiveness. I'll say this: ending an episode with "Bless me father for I have sinned" sure packs a powerful punch.

-- Binny

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Binny --

The issue of the death penalty in the realm of Jewish law is certainly a thorny one and one that for me, this episode brought to the forefront. As the episode reveals, the Bible's position on capital punishment is unequivocal, calling for its implementation to punish murderers and adulterers, as well as those that violate the Sabbath. Yet, for centuries, the Rabbis implemented restrictions and rules on the criminal justice system that were so severe that the prospect of the death penalty ever actually being imposed were so minute that the Talmud tells us that a court that implemented the death penalty once every seventy years was considered harsh. Maimonides taught us that "it is better and more satisfactory to acquit a thousand guilty persons than to put a single innocent one to death." Today, it is the official position of both the Reform and Conservative movements to oppose the death penalty. Indeed, even the Orthodox Union in its Summary of Standing Policy Decisions supports “efforts to place a moratorium on executions in the United States and the creation of a commission to review the death penalty procedures within the American judicial system.” Therefore, it is fairly obvious that while the Bible’s inclusion of capital punishment is indisputable, the Jewish position on the death penalty has evolved over the years to the point that the prevailing view is to oppose it rather than to support it. Whether this is because of the reason Rabbi Glassman gives (that the thinking of the Torah, which possibly “reflected the best wisdom of its time,” is “just plain wrong by any modern standard”) or because of the reason Toby gives (the rabbis “couldn’t stomach it”) probably depends on who you ask, but I am sure that just as many, if not more, people would cite the former reason (in explaining their positions on other issues, as well) as would cite the latter.

However, while the import of Jewish law may have been the aspect of the episode that I found most interesting, it is by no means what the episode is about. As Toby points out, declaring “vengeance is not Jewish” as the solution to the problem is not satisfactory because “for one thing, neither is the president.” Watching the president grapple with this moral dilemma was fascinating because in a series that has so far often highlighted the tension between idealism and pragmatism, seeing the usual policy-based idealism be replaced by a higher sense of idealism (faith), yet ultimately still be trumped by the political pragmatism that wins elections was somehow shocking and predictable at the same time. More interesting was watching the contrast in moral certainty in the final scene between Father Cavanaugh (“‘Vengeance is mine,’ sayeth the Lord.” You know what that means? God is the only one who gets to kill people…That was your way out”) and Bartlet (I’m the leader of a democracy, Tom. Seventy-one percent of the people support capital punishment. People have spoken. The courts have spoken.”) It’s not hard to see why one went into the priesthood and the other into politics. (And did you notice that he abides by the president's request to call him "Mr. President" until he can no longer hold back his disappointment and with his last line of dialogue asks, "Jed. Would you like me to hear your confession?")

From an ongoing storyline perspective, however, the most striking thing about this episode is the staff’s building frustration with the president. Early in the season, we see Bartlet lambasted by Justice Crouch for running to the middle of the road after taking office. In the days before the State of the Union, we hear Toby echo this sentiment (albeit with a slightly different perspective), explaining that they won and have to use their time in office as an opportunity to implement a progressive agenda. Last episode, it was C.J. who is up in arms that the president is waffling on abstinence-only sex education. And now it is Sam (and Toby to a lesser extent) that is visibly frustrated with the president and Leo’s refusal to more seriously reconsider staying the execution, asserting with dismay, “there are times when we are absolutely nowhere.” They are all sophisticated political operatives that surely understand this balance between idealism and pragmatism, but at a certain point they all seem to be taking stock of what they gave up to take this job and why they did so, and lately it seems that not everyone likes what they see.

-- Av

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Av --

I did notice the Father Cavanaugh's use of "Jed"; when anyone other than Abbey Bartlet uses that name it tends to stand out. The last person to address him by his first name was Leo when he was chastising the president for not disclosing his MS to him. In that situation it was Leo, consciously or subconsciously (I think it's the former, personally), shedding the roles of chief of staff and president, and on a very plain level asking an old friend why he didn't come to him. This case was similar. Bartlet asked to be addressed in an official capacity so that he wouldn't think personally about policy decisions. Once the execution had been carried out and there was no more decision to be made, all that was left was a former parishioner needing to confess to his priest. The office didn't need to ask forgiveness, the man did. Cavanaugh clearly got that, and addressed "Jed" accordingly.

As far as the "higher sense of idealism" is concerned, you're right it's clear why Cavanaugh and Bartlet have the jobs they have, but it's disconcerting to think that people like Cavanaugh (and to a lesser extent Toby) can appeal to the president's personal higher idealism, and use religious belief to influence policy. I understand the relationship between church and state is quite murky; officially they are supposed to be separate yet Christmas is a legal holiday. That said, the official distinction between the two is crucial in the chief executive. While it would be unpopular with the American public either way, it's a lot easier to stomach Bartlet staying the execution because he morally opposes the death penalty than because he religiously opposes it. The obvious reason is that it sets a dangerous precedent; what's to stop a more fervently religious president from making policy decisions stemming from his or her own religious viewpoints? And if you think I'm thinking about a Muslim fundamentalist in the Oval Office you're wrong; I'm actually thinking about a right-wing Orthodox rabbi.

Speaking of, I appreciate the relevant research into our faith's position on capital punishment. I, too, am familiar with the Talmud's position on the issue, and am glad it made its way into the episode. It's quite sensible that the denominations you listed, including Orthodoxy, oppose the death penalty. My issue remains not with the understanding of the Jewish stance on capital punishment, rather the willingness, near-eagerness of a rabbi to insist that he knows better than the Torah, which was simply the "best wisdom of its time." Toby's response to the Bible was to quote its scholars who used their own wisdom to interpret capital punishment as either a looming threat or last resort, to rarely, if ever, be used. Rabbi Glassman's was out and out dismissive. (And while I'm here, it was pretty interesting to hear him invoke the Haggadah to prove "vengeance isn't Jewish." Vengeance - albeit God's - is a pretty prevalent theme in the Haggadah, up to and including the passage he quoted from, Chad Gadya.)

Finally, I don't see Sam's frustration as part of a growing frustration among the staff. Given the quantity and magnitude of the issues that come across the president's desk, it's only natural that a position he - or the administration in general - stands by is going to be at odds with various individuals in his administration. I don't think Bartlet's decisions that bothered C.J. or Sam should cause concern with either of them that this is not the man they signed up to work with. The beauty of this decision is Bartlet essentially had to take a position that was at odds with himself. I think ultimately that is a point the staff can look at and respect. It would be more troublesome if Bartlet started drastically changing his political philosophy (which is what Toby brought to the forefront before the State of the Union); this would be cause for serious introspection by the staff.

-- Binny

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Binny --

You don't have to sell me on the danger of a president that legislates through religion. I've been spending the last few months trying to beat a hangover that resulted from an 8-year-long drunken tirade of a born-again Christian fundamentalist whose narrow-mindedness on issues such as homosexuality and stem cell research still give me a lingering feeling of nausea.

I understand your disapproval of Rabbi Glassman's position but I think it comes from a place of a man struggling to reconcile the tenets of his faith with his own modern standards of judgment and morality, not just being dismissive for the sake of being dismissive. As for your point about his commentary on the Haggadah, yes much of the Passover story is about punishment and vengeance (and yes, as you qualified, it is God's vengeance, not man's) but I've always found one of the most uplifting parts of the Passover tale to be the story of God chastising the angels for celebrating the Egyptian's demise in the Red Sea, because as the Talmud explains, "How can one celebrate and sing joyous songs of praise while the handiwork of God is being destroyed?" The Exodus was surely a triumphant victory for the Jewish people, but we are taught that the loss of human life (even that of our enemies) makes that victory slightly less sweet.

--Av

Season 1, Episode 13: "Take Out the Trash Day"

2009-02-09T13:37:00.004-05:00

Plot summary: While President Bartlet and his staff debate the appropriate response to a controversial new sex education study, there are fears that the parents of a murdered gay teenager should be excused from attending the signing of a hate crimes bill because of the father's embarrassment about his son's homosexuality. Josh and Sam meet with an appropriations subcommittee which is investigating Josh's lack of cooperation in the White House staff drug probe - all of which is designed to expose Leo's former substance-abuse problem. Toby relishes his verbal duel with some congressmen who have held up the newest appointments for the Public Broadcasting Corporation. C.J. is advised to save a few embarrassing stories for release on Friday to blunt the effect on the media over the weekend, but she also finds time to continue her frisky flirtation with a White House reporter.

Click here to watch "Take Out the Trash Day"

Av --

A few weeks ago, The New York Times Magazine decided to forego their usual format and, instead of their standard features and articles, publish 52 portraits of "Obama's People." These were up-close, personal pictures of the incoming administration, intended to capture, in this moment, "portraits of those whose character and temperament and bearing may well prove consequential in the coming months and years." Going through the magazine then, I remember thinking of those 52 people - some I had heard of, some I was meeting for the first time - as teammates. These people - diverse as they are, be it through race, gender, or political party - are unified in their political goals, brought together by the vision of their boss - one Barack Obama. What I failed to internalize, though, was that while these people no doubt are in line with the president's agenda on a broad scale, they are still individuals with their own worldviews and opinions, many of which probably don't line up with the administration's. Until I watched this episode, I admit I was blind to the role of personal opinion outside the Oval Office - and its ramifications. This episode presented that issue nicely, examining opinions at four distinct levels.

The lowest level, the opinion that is least relevant to the administration, is that of the average citizen. (This is not to say the people's voice doesn't count; on the contrary, citizens are the driving force of a democracy. However, on an individual level, one man's opinion won't carry that much weight with the White House.) The Lydell family was brought to Washington as a symbol of hate crime violence. Their presence was meant to enhance the legislation the president was signing. Once it emerged that Mr. Lydell did not support the president because of his "weak-ass position on gay rights" (great scene, by the way), his presence was no longer necessary. While his attitude is justifiable, even respectable, there's no room in the White House for this citizen and his opinion running counter to the president's.

More complicated is the opinion of the low-level White House staffer, as we see with Karen Larsen. While her opinions on issues are probably treated like those of any other ordinary citizen, she's in a position to act on them. In truth, it's an unenviable position. We, the viewers, have come to love Leo McGarry. We respect him. Karen Larsen doesn't know him like we do. She sees a personnel file, sees a drunk and drug addict in the chief of staff office, remembers growing up with an alcoholic for a father, and risks her job to do what she thinks is right. Despicable as we're supposed to find her act of treachery - and believe me, I do - Leo's not wrong when he calls giving him up to Klaypool "a little brave." (So is taking her job back, by the way. Good luck being trusted by your bosses and being respected by your peers after all this.) It has to be a fine line to walk, working in a place where you have access to much more than the average citizen, but have to balance how much you believe in your bosses versus speaking out when you feel they are truly in the wrong.

Working our way up the ladder, we see the problems that C.J. has when her opinions matter less than others'. (Though she didn't get a writing credit, this storyline seems to have Dee Dee Myers' fingerprints all over it.) It certainly has to be frustrating to be on par with people like Josh, Sam, and Toby in many ways, but have her voice count less in many others. Last episode, Toby called a meeting with the president to get a phrase - and philosophy - change in the State of the Union. Granted, he's the communications director so it's his domain, but he was able to change the president's mind on an operating principle of his administration. C.J., on the other hand, is told that certain stories are "trash," and her responsibility is to treat them as such. The fact that she thinks the government has a responsibility to change their approach to sex education is less important than avoiding the debate in order to win a political favor. The fact that she thinks Jonathan Lydell's voice should be heard is less important than avoiding a potential embarrassment with the media. It's undoubtedly a difficult position to be in, though I suppose I should be fair and credit Danny for not letting her frustration come at the expense of her professionalism. (3:59 into the clip.) By the way, I think it is to Sorkin's credit that I see C.J.'s emotional reactions to these situations as being well-defined points of her character, and not simply think, "oh, she's a woman, of course she's emotional about it." After all, a male press secretary is fully capable of often being at odds with his boss.

Finally, there is that inner circle in the West Wing (and The West Wing) whose opinions count the most. I'm sure that Leo will take some flack from his colleagues (presumably off-screen, since this issue appears to be over) for bringing Karen back. (As a matter of fact, Sorkin himself was taken to task by White House officials for that decision.) But ultimately, it's Leo's decision to make. By virtue of the position he's in, unless the president himself disagrees, Leo is empowered to have his opinions count more. And if the man who was given a second chance by everyone he knows wants to give one to someone else, well, that's just the way it's going to be.

-- Binny

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Binny --

Your thoughts on this episode have allowed me to see it in a different light and upgrade it from one that I considered very poor to one that was simply mediocre. You see, my biggest problem with this episode is that it was all over the place and it seemed to lack direction but the overarching theme that floats throughout it adds a level of focus to it that I failed to observe. How frustrating it must be to be the lone voice of dissent in a place where the ultimate decision belongs to the most powerful person in the world. Watching different characters deal with this frustration was indeed an interesting part of this episode.

As I mentioned, my main problem with this episode is that, if nothing else, so many parts of it just seemed totally out of place. Whether it was a storyline about Zoey's potentially racist professor that was teased (and even featured in the official episode summary) but never followed through on, Sam obsessively babbling on about a town in Alabama that wants to abolish all laws except the Ten Commandments, or C.J.'s climactic observation that "we could all be better teachers" (I still have no idea what that means), this episode prompted the same reaction in my head over and over again: WTF.

As for Sam's preoccupation with the Alabama town, I have two ideas of what Sorkin could have been going with there, at least thematically. My first thought was that it was included as a commentary on the religious right. The episode features two issues -- gay rights and abstinence-only sex education -- that are highly monitored by the religious right and perhaps they have Sam allude to this asinine policy goal of an Alabama town (and of course, it's Alabama; where else?) to show the absurd logical extreme of legislating based on religious values: abolishing all laws except for the Ten Commandments. Alternatively, this nugget may have been included because of the commandment Sam seems especially focused on, "coveting thy neighbor's wife." He points out the practical impossibility of enforcing such a law because, after all, how can you regulate and inflict punishment for a person's thoughts? A commentary on the hate crime legislation the episode deal with, perhaps? Still, even though there are plausible explanations for its inclusion, Sam's obsession with this story seems way out of proportion with whatever it was intended to accomplish.

The Lydell storyline is a particularly heartwarming one because throughout the episode, I felt myself, like C.J. refusing to believe what the men around her were telling her, namely, that it is, in fact, possible for a father to be ashamed of the fact that his recently murdered son was a homosexual. Despite anecdotal evidence to the contrary, my understanding of what it means to be a parent made this a notion that shocked my conscience and I was truly relieved to learn the truth behind Mr. Lydell's ambivalence. His words on the issues of gay rights ("I want to know what qualities necessary to being a parent/soldier this president feels my son lacked") resonate not only because they are simple, but because they are true. Indeed, society has begun to come around on issues like marriage equality and even the military is beginning to reconsider their position on gay troops (see this morning's NY Times opinion pagefor example.) We don't know what Mr. Lydell's positions were on gay rights before learning that his son was gay, or even before he was murdered for it, but I think we are supposed to conclude that he was previously less tolerant. As Harvey Milk explained in that touching scene in Milk, telling his friends to urge every closet homosexual they know to come out, average people are more likely to support the gay movement once they themselves know someone who is actually gay. For those individuals, it's the kind of thing that they can't understand until there is a real face on the issue, until they can somewhat understand what it's like to be gay.

Kind of like the same way that nobody can possibly understand what it's like to be an alcoholic unless they are one themselves. So explains Leo. I like alcohol. A lot. But I can't conceive of ever having anywhere the level of dependence on alcohol that an alcoholic does. Nicolas Cage's character in Leaving Las Vegas is just that: a character. The notion that someone can be so impacted on a daily basis by whether or not they drink is a concept that is totally foreign to someone who doesn't live that life. (Also, maybe I needed to be drunk to fully understand this episode.) Having Leo try to explain this idea to Karen, whose own father was an alcoholic, provided for a nice moment, but like the staffers that e-mailed Sorkin, I agree that there is no way that girl gets to keep her job. Sure, Leo might be inclined to give people a second chance because of all the chances he was given, but I suspect he would give those second chances to people who committed sins less severe than leaking classified secret service files to the opposition party.

One thing that I thought was interesting about the C.J.-Danny dynamic in this episode is that up until now we had focused on the implausibility of the press secretary, especially one as professional as C.J. Cregg, dating a White House reporter, because of the unprofessionalism this would present from the press secretary's perspective. However, in this episode, it is not C.J., but Danny that ultimately exhibits that quality. By passing on a story tip that he would otherwise take if not for his affection for C.J. as a person, he is not doing his job properly. C.J. certainly flirts with, if not crosses, the line here as well, but it is worth noting that she is not the only one doing a disservice to their employer by pursuing this relationship.

Finally, it might be that seeing Devorah's thoughts on the sexist undertones of Knocked Up validated in a recent Slate article about a similar phenomenon in episodes of Friday Night Lights has increased my anti-feminism radar, but the scene in which Donna, Margaret and the other assistants discuss the leak until being repudiated by Mrs. Landginham struck me as very odd. Maybe Sorkin was confused about which Elisabeth Moss show he was writing for, but this scene seemed more appropriate for Mad Men than The West Wing. We are shown a group of women sitting at their desks discussing an issue of extreme importance to the White House, and instead of being encouraged, the most senior member among them labels their behavior as "gossip" and essentially tells them, "get back to your typing and leave the important stuff for the men to handle." Even Josh's quip ("Well, here's a group of federal employees") as the scene continues with his entrance, has a strange feel to it that made me slightly uncomfortable. Again, this scene just seemed more out of place than anything, a symptom that that was pervasive throughout this episode, your thematic tie-in notwithstanding. I wonder if this episode aired in its normal Wednesday night spot or if in a calculated, strategic decision it was moved to Friday night, with the rest of the trash.

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 12: "He Shall, From Time to Time..."

2009-02-03T09:16:00.007-05:00

Plot summary: The White House staff is in full crisis mode when President Bartlet is found unconscious as he prepares for the State of the Union speech while the India-Pakistan border skirmish flares again when a fearful Pakistan gives its field commanders control of its nuclear arsenal. While the President's condition is officially blamed on the flu, the First Lady knows better, and Toby is too busy to notice as he polishes his boss' upcoming address. Equally distracting is the inevitable disclosure of Leo's former substance-abuse problem by political rivals, as well as the reappearance of the amusing Lord Marbury -- a besotted ladies' man who doubles as a key adviser on the India-Pakistan conflict. Despite the crises, C.J. and Mallory express their romantic feelings about two very different men.

Click here to watch "He Shall, from Time to Time..."

Av --

I've never considered the relationship between alcoholism and multiple sclerosis. In fact, I still don't think they're related. But the symmetry presented in this episode really stands out. Two men, both afflicted with illness. Bartlet - MS; Leo - alcoholism. Both do what it takes to keep their illness under control. Both are aware of the potentially serious outcomes their diseases can cause. Both have been extremely discreet with the information that they're sick in the first place. Even the men themselves are aware of one of the similarities of their experiences: "I tried to get up, but I fell back down again." "I know the feeling." Yet the question I keep coming back to when considering the two men and their respective illnesses is a pragmatic one: which of the two conditions makes it harder for the afflicted individual to fulfill the duties his position requires? Though for a few episodes now Leo seemed to be the focal point of that question, having to come up with answers for the media (and his political rivals) defending his ability to do his job as a recovering addict, the torch now appears to be on its way to Bartlet. As the Leo story breaks to the public and thus ends his time in the spotlight, Bartlet is forced to admit his ailment to someone outside of his wife for the first time. Should he need to go public, I'm sure Sam will write quite a statement of support, whether the president likes it or not.

Giving a main character - the president, no less - multiple sclerosis is a bold move, one you'd think was carefully thought out as the character was being written. Typically, Sorkin did no such thing - he had this idea of Bartlet sick in bed watching soap operas, plus he wanted to reveal that Abbey Bartlet was a doctor - Jed's doctor - without the "reveal" being cheesy. He needed a sickness. Enter multiple sclerosis, a revelation which shocked me as a viewer (I believe that's the first time watching this show I actually yelled out "Oh my god!"), and left me with so many questions. Some of them have been answered. For example, I thought MS was by definition degenerative and causes early death; this episode educated me about other forms of the disease. More important questions: who knew about it? Apparently his wife, and since she's a doctor, they've kept it under wraps. Why didn't he tell anyone? The obvious answer, as Bartlet says, "I wanted to be the president." But the bigger questions - how did they keep it a secret? Aren't there presidential physicals? And now that Leo knows, will others find out? What will happen then? What if the media gets wind of this? Obviously we haven't seen the last of this story, and I'm truly fascinated to see where it will go.

As far as the other storyline, that little thing called the State of the Union address, I was once again pleased with the "here's what happens leading up to the speech" route, also used in "A Proportional Response." It's especially interesting after witnessing a real-life inaugural address that is the subject of just as much preparation and scrutiny. (And in case you were wondering, Robert Gates was "the guy" chosen not to be there in case of catastrophe.) Though I had always imagined the team of speechwriters going through draft after draft of the speech, I never considered something like the president's party allies in Congress having their opinions considered. (In this particular case, interestingly enough, the debate between the Congressmen and Toby centers around NEA funding, which has become a real-life point of contention lately.) All the preparation and the analysis of every word shows just how important the State of the Union is for a president - it can serve as an agenda-setter, a rallying cry, and a message to the people.

-- Binny

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Binny--

The remarkable thing about this episode (and it's an aspect that applies to the structure of the series in general) is that Sorkin was able to write an episode that in title and in substance is principally about the State of the Union address without showing even a second of the actual speech. If I was writing this show, it would have been obvious to me that when we get to the State of the Union episode, of course we show the speech. But that would be the easy way out, a way to fill up time without doing any real storytelling or challenging writing. Alas, Aaron Sorkin is a better writer than I am.

I had the opportunity to read a little bit about the history of the State of the Union and discovered that from 1801-1913 (Presidents Jefferson through Wilson) the State of the Union was not delivered as an address to a joint session of Congress. Rather, it was merely written up and delivered in print to Congress. This method was used as recently as 1981, by Jimmy Carter. I was extremely surprised to learn this, but even more surprised that former President George W. Bush didn't opt to send Congress a postcard with a funny cartoon on it in lieu of one of his addresses.

The discussion of the inclusion of the "era of big government is over" line in the speech was interesting to me for a number of reasons. First, the line came directly from Bill Clinton's 1996 State of the Union (as opposed to the full paragraph we see Bartlet rehearsing in the episode's 1st scene, which was lifted word for word from Clinton's 1999 address.) Second, by discussing the merits of including 6 words in a speech, they were able to frame the debate that underlies many of the fundamental political differences between liberals and conservatives. (Toby's defense of big government sounds fantastic in theory, but has proven difficult to accomplish in practice.) That they were able to do so briefly and subtly without hitting us over the head with it makes it all the more impressive. Finally - and this was something that only occurred to me this morning after I watched this episode for what had to be at least the 10th time - the discussion between Toby and the president gives us a very different version of the substance and message of the Bartlet campaign than that which we were given previously. A few episodes ago, the outgoing Supreme Court justice accuses Bartlet of selling out, claiming that he ran "great guns" in what must have been a decidedly left-wing campaign and then moved quickly to the middle of the road after taking office. Here, Toby makes it sound like they positioned Bartlet as a centrist in the campaign with talk like "the era of big government is over" but that now that they're in office, Bartlet should be returning to his progressive ideals. I wonder if this is more a matter of different perspectives than a pure plot inconsistency, but either way, I found this interesting.

As for the MS, the first time I saw this episode, I was just as surprised as you were when the First Lady revealed to Leo the real nature of the President's illness. At the time, I knew very little about multiple sclerosis and even now, I would say that 95% of the knowledge I have was acquired through watching The West Wing. The show deserves all the praise and recognition it has received for educating the public about this terrible disease.

I enjoyed the role of the Internet in the breaking the news about Leo (hattip Etan on this.) Back then, the story being on the Internet meant that it would get picked up and break the next day in "real" news coverage. Today, if a story is on the Internet, "it's already been broken." Taking this point a step further, I wonder how long either of these 2 secrets - Bartlet's MS and Leo's drug addiction - could have been kept close to the vest for as long as they were in today's day and age of blogs and 24-hour cable news. It's only been 10 years, but the way the media works has changed dramatically during that time.

Finally, I find it extremely unlikely that the president wouldn't have told Leo about his MS at some point, if not during the campaign, then at the very least at some later point, if for no other reason than the person who spends the most time around him on a daily basis would know what he's dealing with if something were to happen. I find it even more unlikely that Leo never would have pressed either the president or first lady on this issue in the past, given that he has seen stuff like this before and was already suspicious that something was going on that he didn't know about. Still, I am willing to look past all of that because the tension that results from Leo being kept in the dark is what makes the episode's final scene as touching as it is,and sometimes good TV is better than realistic TV.

-- Av

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Av --

Though it's a route too-often explored in the annals of WW analysis, and one I'm trying hard to avoid in my own, the Bartlet/Clinton parallels would be much better avoided by Sorkin (which, I've read, he desperately wanted to avoid), if he didn't, you know, actually lift sections of a real State of the Union. In any case, the point you made about the positions of Candidate Bartlet vs. those of President Bartlet is an interesting one, especially as I watch the dawn of a new real-world American president with more awareness and understanding of politics than I ever had at similar moments. As far as the inconsistency between the way outgoing Justice Crouch sees this change in Bartlet and the way Toby does (great catch, by the way), it wouldn't surprise me if Crouch represents the consensus among the Democratic base, but of course Toby, in the heart of Team Bartlet, feels that they were making concessions the whole campaign to the point that Bartlet was more centrist than liberal by Election Day.

The other real-world corollary you noted that wouldn't fly ten years later (and one we keep coming back to, for obvious reasons) is the notion of Internet news-breaks and the ability (or lack thereof) to keep things quiet. While the former isn't a major sticking point (if the episode was written now they'd just say the story is broken and have Leo address the media a day earlier), the latter issue makes this episode a tad dated. While many of the political issues I've seen so far have great relevance today, the drama of keeping a hot political secret off the media's radar is not one of them. On the other hand, for every issue that today's media exposes, there could be 100 more that are somehow kept quiet.

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 11: "Lord John Marbury"

2009-01-14T10:16:00.005-05:00

Plot summary: The Kashmir border powderkeg becomes more explosive when the Indian army invades Pakistani-held territory, making the threat of a nuclear confrontation frighteningly real to President Bartlet, who calls in Lord Marbury, an eccentric British diplomat with ties to both warring nations - and a weakness for booze. An angry Josh is subpoenaed to testify as the investigation into substance abuse among White House staffers grinds on towards its inevitable target: chief of staff Leo McGarry. Mandy floats a trial balloon among the staff to test their reaction to her notion of representing a liberal Republican. The President is surprised when Charlie asks him if he can date his willing daughter Zoey.

Click here to watch "Lord John Marbury"

Av --

It's time for me to reconsider some of my positions. First of all, I've gone from liking Mandy (briefly), to feeling indifferent about her, to now feeling what I believe is the common attitude: strong dislike. The qualities that would have made her a strong character, most notably her ability to get under Josh's skin, would've been more interesting to watch if she'd have stayed in her role as adversary. As an ally that often takes the adversarial approach, she's just irritating. On a more substantive note, while I was moved by the amount of personal emotion on display in the previous episode, this episode's attempt's to do the same fell kind of flat. I guess I'm thinking most about C.J.'s storyline, though I'm very pleased that her toeing the line vis-à-vis her Danny relationship is being noted and taken into consideration. While Toby may have been harsh with how he broke the news to her ("You sent me in there uninformed so that I'd lie to the press." "We sent you in there uninformed because we thought there was a chance you couldn't."), he really didn't owe her an apology for keeping her in the dark, even if the Danny issue didn't exist. Frankly, Leo's explanation to her is the best one: "You're gonna have to expect that sometimes." It's one of the perils of her job, and being the professional that she is, I thought she'd have handled it better.

One more thing that's bothering me: as this Leo crisis is reaching its boiling point, the last three episodes have made it clear that everybody is going to defend Leo to the death. Josh: "You're not gonna be taken down by this small fraction of a man. I won't permit it." Donna: "If one of us were in trouble, he would be the first person..." Sam: "Leo's in trouble... Your job isn't to end the fight, it's to win it!" The problem I have is that other than Bartlet - "You fought in a war, got me elected, and you run the country. I think we all owe you one, don't you?", we just take it as an article of faith that Leo is The Man who has done so much for all of them. While I have no doubt that it's true, the individual relationships they have with Leo - Bartlet excepted; who else but Leo could bluntly ask him if he has a problem with his daughter dating someone black - haven't been developed enough to make their attitudes as believable as they should be.

OK, I think I've buried the lede quite enough here, so let me get to the two things most interesting in this episode: Josh's deposition regarding Leo, and the India/Pakistan conflict. The reason I group these two together is they share a common theme: a conflict between two opposing sides, with lines clearly drawn and mediation proving difficult. What's striking about these conflicts, though, is how each is meant to be viewed. While we, as viewers, are naturally supposed to be "rooting" for Josh in his spirited defense of Leo and his stonewalling the man from "Freedom Watch," Harry Klaypool (not-so-subtly based on a real person, Larry Klayman), I found myself asking: who's actually right here? How can I agree with all these editorials condemning the Bush White House for its secrecy, but want Josh to cover up his "investigation"? If this were a real-life issue, I think the public would rightfully want to know about a rehab stint by a major White House official. The fact that we're trained to like Leo clouds our perception about who's in the right here. And as far as the India/Pakistan issue is concerned, I feel like Sorkin is basically daring the audience to pick a side. Each side has its case, and the United States is directly in the middle. (And it's nice to see Bartlet much more comfortable in the Situation Room. Speaking of, fair question by my wife: shouldn't the vice president be in these meetings? He's a crucial member of the national security team, and surely belongs in these meetings as much as, if not more than, the chief of staff. Could they not afford to pay Tim Matheson for the episode, or did they not want to offend him by giving him an episode with a non-speaking role? Discuss.) In any case, the India/Pakistan issue clearly mirrors so many other foreign issues, so I'm sure many people who follow one of any amount of foreign battles could relate to this one, and take a side. Wisely, though, Sorkin chooses not to take a side himself, and keeps the United States in the position of trying to find a solution without blaming a side, and I find an eccentric British diplomat (the Lord John Marbury of the title) as the voice of mediation an interesting choice, to say the least.

-- Binny

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Binny --

Thank you for finally coming around on Mandy. I think one of Sorkin's greatest failings in the show was his inability to make Mandy into a tolerable character. Or maybe it's just Moira Kelly's fault. Yeah, lets' just blame her. That's much easier. Indeed, when Sam gives her an ultimatum, telling her, "Now you can work for us or you can work for them, but you can't do both," I found myself yelling, "work for them, work for them" at the TV screen.

As for C.J., I am usually not a big defender of hers as she tends to take things too personally and reacts emotionally instead of rationally to situations sometimes. Then again, she is a woman. However, in this case, although I may ultimately side with the men, I actually really do understand her argument. "Either I'm a trusted member of the communications staff or I'm not." Essentially, I think she's saying that if they can't trust her to use discretion with information and act professionally, then they should fire her and hire a new press secretary that they can trust. But so long as they're keeping her around, they have to treat her like she is a part of the team and in this case that means do not send her into the press room without the information she needs and make her look like a fool.

On the Leo front, yes, it does seem like the entire staff is willing to throw themselves in front of a bus for Leo and potentially risk the success of the entire administration to save his ass. Without dwelling too much on this point, they all have been working for Leo for well over 2 years by now (we're one year into the administration plus well over a year of the campaign plus transition), so it's not crazy to think that, especially given the close interpersonal nature of the way they work on a daily basis, his staff has developed an acute, fatherly sense for him and that they would be incredibly defensive if anyone tries to come after him. I think it's pretty reasonable to say that none of them would be where they are now if not for Leo, but trust me, we'll get some insight into all of their pasts at some time in the future. Maybe. As for the issue itself, I hear your point about the comparison to the Bush administration's secrecy, but I would respond to it by differentiating the substance of what it is that they're hiding. The Bush administration has been secretive about major things like the reasons for going to war and the use of torture, which are important components of American policy. The Bartlet administration is being secretive about the personal life of a staff member regarding events that happened six years ago when they weren't yet in office. Further, Klaypool and Lillienfield aren't doing this to achieve any sort of noble purpose or getting to the truth to improve U.S. policy; they just want to ruin Leo's name. I think you can just take that all into account, rest easy, and get on board supporting Leo.

Shani's question about the VP is a very good one, and unfortunately I do not have a good answer. My intuition tells me that the VP has to be there. And this isn't a one-time thing, either; Hoynes is rarely, if ever, together with Bartlet and Leo in the Situation Room. This feels wrong.

Finally, (and when I say "finally," I do not mean that the end of this response is coming soon) the India/Pakistan storyline really resonated with me, not because of the feud itself, but because of the way we saw it analyzed in the episode's final scene. "It's about religion." Hearing these words emerge from the mouth of Lord John Marbury was chilling to me during a week in which the fighting between Israel and Hamas in Gaza further escalated. More so, I have found myself thinking back to the series' 3rd episode, "A Proportional Response," for guidance during this ongoing escapade because that episode's central issue of "proportionality" lies at the heart of this latest military campaign, especially for those who have condemned it. Critics of Israel's response point to the sheer disparity in casualties as evidence of its illegitimacy, and in terms of pure numbers they have a very compelling point: the operation has taken the lives of hundreds of Palestinians, mostly civilians, and only a handful of Israelis. True, the citizens of Sderot and other Israeli citizens lived with the threat of constant rocket attacks, but the actual, real-world casualties resulting from these attacks were minimal. Thus, argue the critics, Israel's response has been out of proportion with the initial Hamas attacks and is therefore unreasonable.

I keep imagining President Bartlet sitting at a table of military advisers - or in this case, a table of Israel's critics - and simply asking, "What is the virtue of a proportional response?" He would continue to question the merits of a response that is anticipated by the enemy, that has been factored into the equation, and thus is nothing more than the "cost of doing business," as he calls it. In that episode, Bartlet ultimately relents to the advice of his national security team, who advocate a more pragmatic response than the "overreaction" he prefers because of the political and military implications. However, this begs the critical question: is "proportionality" a rule of strategy or morality? It is through both of these lenses that the Israeli campaign in Gaza must be examined.

In terms of morality, anyone who cannot distinguish between Hamas, who target civilians, and Israel, who targets military leaders and terrorists, is either intellectually dishonest, biased, or both. That being said, Israel's attacks, although targeted at guilty parties, result in massive collateral damage in the form of many innocent civilians. The problem with these attacks is that the resulting collateral damage is not a possible byproduct of Israel's actions, but rather a certain one. They remind me of the famous Talmudic expression in the realm of the laws of the Sabbath that alludes to a man who cuts off the head of a chicken and is then surprised at its death ("psik reishe v'lo yamut.") The death of innocent civilians is a definite result of Israel's air attacks and must be factored in accordingly; the fact that they were not intended is only slight relevant. And make no mistake about it: the loss of human life is a moral tragedy, no matter which side you're on. I think the distinction between Hamas's terrorist attacks and Israel's response can be analogized to the difference between the "intentional" and "knowing" standards in criminal law. Shooting a person without an intent to kill but with the knowledge that it inevitably will is surely better than shooting him with the intent to kill, but not much better; both are murder under the law. Still, the law provides justifications for murder, and self-defense and defense of others are chief among them. It is these defenses that lie at the heart of Israel's justifications for their attacks (as they are acting both responsively and preemptively to defend the lives of its citizens) and give them a firm moral ground to stand upon. I think.

The more pressing question about Israel's military response is with respect to its wisdom. Anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict can discern a very clear formulaic pattern to the way it consistently plays out. It is a pattern that time and time again triggers a "cycle of violence," claims hundreds of human lives, and leads nowhere except right back to the status quo. If that is all this campaign accomplishes -- and history suggests that might be the case -- it will be a monumental failure. Thus, questioning the strategic wisdom of the campaign presents a far more compelling criticism than questioning its moral legitimacy.

So yes, there are potential moral (albeit, I think, shaky ones) objections and strategic objections (likely more compelling ones) to what Israel is doing. The main problem with Israel's critics - and I have read many of their writings the last couple of weeks - is that they have failed to articulate what would be an appropriate alternative response that would be effective in deterring Hamas, yet fall within the range of their moral compass. Diplomacy is a lost cause when the guy on the other side of the table rejects your right to exist and allowing Israeli citizens to live indefinitely with the fear that a Hamas rocket could strike its homes, school buses, and restaurants at any moment was simply no longer acceptable. So what else could Israel have reasonably done? This is the question I have yet to receive a good answer to. Perhaps people should spend more time answering questions than asking them of Israel. It is the Israeli generals' jobs to protect the lives of its citizens, not mine. So, given my very limited moral qualms to the campaign and the lack of a better alternative, I will defer to the wisdom and judgment of the Israeli generals. I think.

More and more, I have realized that the questions that this conflict presents have few concrete answers. How many civilian deaths are an acceptable byproduct of each terrorist death? Do the rules of proportionality and just war still apply when the enemy has launched what is by any objective standard a war that falls well outside the normal rules? How does a nation properly balance the lives of its citizens against the lives of its enemies' citizens? These are questions that pass way above the confines of my mind. The only conclusion that I have reached is that when it comes to this conflict, clarity is a vice: there are no clear answers here and anyone (on either side) that is able to achieve full lucidity on these issues is probably missing something.

Left without any true guidance from my brain, I turn to my heart: "He who blessed our forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob -- may He bless the fighters of the Israel Defense Forces, who stand guard over our land." May this violence come to a swift end and claim as few human lives as possible.

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 10: "In Excelsis Deo"

2009-01-07T12:22:00.005-05:00

Plot summary: As Christmas Eve approaches, President Bartlet eagerly sneaks out of the White House for some last-minute Christmas shopping, while a haunted Toby learns more about a forgotten Korean War hero who died alone on the district's cold streets while wearing a coat that Toby once donated to charity. In other hushed corridors, Sam and Josh ignore Leo's advice and consult Sam's call girl friend concerning her confidential clientele when one political rival hints at exposing Leo's previous drug problem. C.J. wonders aloud about the President's public response to a notorious hate crime while her personal resolve weakens as a persistent reporter continues to ask her out.

Click here to watch "In Excelsis Deo"

Av --

I've mentioned before that I'm glad not knowing much about the content of the show as I watch it for the first time; aside from being more enjoyable, it allows me to form opinions about things with no influence whatsoever. Well, I blew it this time. In reading about Aaron Sorkin before sitting down to start the show, I read all about the controversy surrounding the Emmy win for "In Excelsis Deo" for Outstanding Writing for a Drama Series. Thus I knew this episode had won the coveted award. Since the Emmys don't have a "Best Episode" category," the Outstanding Writing award serves as a de facto award for the entire episode - writing, directing, acting. And as someone who's now seen nine of the last ten winning episodes in the category, I've come to expect nothing other than the best of the best television has to offer. Which is my way of saying this episode was great but managed to leave my heightened expectations unfulfilled. At the same time, I understand this episode's massive popularity; how could you not respond to wave after wave of naked human emotion presented on the screen? The performances by the actors called on to convey this emotion were exceptional as well.

Here's Mrs. Landingham, revealing the scars she carries on her heart without carrying an ounce of self-pity. More than just being the nice old lady who serves as the president's personal secretary, she's clearly someone who understands her role, and serves it with quiet dignity. There's Donna, often a foil for her boss, sincerely appreciating a heartfelt inscription from Josh more than the gift itself. (Given that said gift was a rare book, who could blame her?) Here's C.J., trying to have her personal voice heard on an issue she cares deeply about, fighting through her assigned role, hoping to be heard. I got the sense that her agreeing to finally going out with Danny is less about romantic interest, and more about just having someone she could speak in-depth with and be listened to. (Also, it seemed like she was practically desperate for some holiday company.) There's President Bartlet, allowing himself to be moved by the tragic death of a hate crime victim before resuming his Christmas photo-op with schoolchildren. Here's Laurie, embarrassed in her own home, refusing to capitulate to Sam's pressure and Josh's threats, reminding the pair that they're "supposed to be the good guys." And of course, there's Leo, clearly aware of the possible ramifications of his past coming to light, trying to maintain his composure in the face of the collapse of his professional life potentially coming on the heels of the collapse of his personal life. (Your explanation in our last correspondence as to why his past pill addiction being a problem makes sense, but the revelation that he was Secretary of Labor at the time certainly adds more substance to it.)

There's Toby. And there's Richard Schiff, Emmy winner for his work on this season, who likely won it for this episode. The storyline was pitch-perfect for the character. The beauty of it lies not simply in Toby's commitment to doing the most he can do to make a situation "right." Rather, it's the litany of emotions, some at odds with each other, that Toby experiences on his quest to properly take care of a deceased homeless Korean War veteran. He clearly feels guilty that all he "gave" this man was his coat, and feels he should have done more, even though he never knew him. But he's smart enough to realize the inappropriateness of the guilt, and instead channels it into trying to take care of a man when nobody else will. Then there's the heartbreaking scene where Toby informs the man's slow brother about the death (1:24 into the clip). Part of Toby is still wondering why he's here, why he's doing this, the other part of him won't rest until a veteran's family is informed and a Purple Heart recipient is buried with honor. He fully understands what he's capable of given his job in the government, yet the man is incapable of saying the words "I'm an influential person. I'm a very powerful person" without being frustrated by his need to say them and ashamed of having said them. (In between the two times I watched this episode, I learned that this storyline was originally written for Sam. It's a good thing they changed their minds; Rob Lowe could not have come close to pulling off this scene the way Schiff did.)

Though I mentioned above that this episode on the whole fell short of the "best of the best television has to offer" mark that I've come to expect from Outstanding Writing-winning episodes, the same can't be said of the beautiful and touching final scene. The level of detail with which it was written and directed is incredible, from the on-location filming at Arlington and its real-life superintendent appearing at the funeral, to the close-ups of Toby and Mrs. Landingham flinching during the gun salute, one maybe because he's not used to the sound, the other maybe because it brings her back to another military funeral she attended. The cross-cutting between the funeral and the staff lining up beside the president is elegant, though I'm not sure what the lining up is supposed to signify. And then there's the choice of Christmas song. You may recall, Av, a 3300-word email I sent out on Christmas Eve 2007, listing my Top 20 favorite Christmas songs. (If you don't recall, by all means search your archives to confirm this.) "Little Drummer Boy" was, and still is, #1, and it is the perfect choice to complement this scene. For one thing, the gun salute going off with the rhythm of the song makes for a stirring soundtrack, but it's more than that. At its core, "Little Drummer Boy" is about a simple boy who doesn't have much, who gives the most that he can give in service to something he believes in. What better metaphor for a homeless war veteran? The carol concludes with a show of appreciation for his small act of service: "Then he smiled at me." And as the choir singing for the president reaches this point in the song, Toby, representing his fellow Americans, fulfills that last part of the analogy.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I had the opportunity to watch part of this episode with the DVD commentary (Sorkin, Schlamme, and producer Alex Graves) and one of them points out that this episode, more than many others, feels like a short movie in which Toby is the main character. The way the first scene after the credits, in which Toby meets with a D.C. policeman played by Lance Reddick (who is now second only to his Lost colleague Michael Emerson in the "actors who freak me out no matter how innocuous the role they play is" contest), sets up Toby's mission in the episode and sets him up as the protagonist is a perfect example of this. Richard Schiff's performance in this episode is pure brilliance. The range of emotions that he exhibits in it is startling, highlighted as you pointed out, by the scene where he has to break the news to George Huffnagle that his brother, Walter, has passed. What I found most interesting, and what I think is Toby's motivation throughout this episode, is the desire of a senior staffer at the White House to capitalize on a rare opportunity to help another human being in a monumental way. I say "rare" with knowing irony because although surely people who work in politics get into it to effect change and do good, the overwhelming of the good that they do is in the abstract. Toby is a speechwriter. So, sure, he can write speeches that influence legislation that benefits Americans, but how often does he get to help a real person with a real problem? He can advise the president on how to reform our approach to veterans' affairs, but how often does he get to personally preserve dignity and respect for a dead American soldier? I found watching this journey of his both fascinating and inspirational.

As for the other characters, I think this episode makes it very easy to see how Jed Bartlet got elected president. He is able to be charming, warm, and funny at the same time. He is a good man with a good heart and a terrific sense of humor. I remember a rabbi once telling me that the hardest part of the job are the Sundays when he has to attend a funeral at 10 A.M. and then rush out of there to officiate at a wedding at 1 P.M. and has to be able to put on a somber face in the morning and a joyous one in the afternoon. This balance of emotions is certainly a similar challenge for a president and we see that front and center in this episode, as Bartlet is forced to step out of a room of young kids to learn that Lowell Lydell has died from a hate crime and then step back in to entertain the schoolchildren. C.J., too, is forced to balance her emotions, as she flirts with (and probably crosses) the line between representing the White House's position on the issue and airing her own views to the point that both Sam and Leo have to walk her back and remind her that she is the White House press secretary and that her job is to represent and defend the president. Simply put, if she wants a platform from which to express her own personal views on issues, she should either run for office or start a blog. You touched on Mrs. Landingham's role in this episode and I loved it as well. In fact, she offered my single favorite line of the episode when she "lectures" Toby for arranging the military funeral, repeatedly stressing with a prideful grin that he "absolutely should not have done that" in a way that showed she clearly meant "you absolutely should not have done that, but I sure am glad you did." I would compare it to a parent simultaneously disciplining their child because they did something they shouldn't have done, but also acknowledging a sense of pride in that there was something noble at heart in their misdeed. Finally, Leo, in an ongoing storyline is forced to balance his own personal interests against the president's. Interestingly, both he and the president seem to be putting the other's interests ahead of their own for the time being. (And yes, I knew that Leo was Secretary of Labor at the time of his entrance into rehab and that we would find that out in the very next episode, but what was I to do?)

Finally, as you mentioned, the final scene was cinematically sensational and a pure pleasure to watch. I need not elaborate on that as you have done a thorough job there. I share your love of "Little Drummer Boy" and I truly miss the holiday season that has left us too soon, if for no other reason that when it left it took with it the giant Christmas tree in my office building's lobby, which for a month, was my only way of knowing which side of the elevator bank to exit from. For the next 11 months, I will be totally lost.

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 9: "The Short List"

2009-01-06T09:44:00.005-05:00

Plot summary: When a Supreme Court justice retires, President Bartlet has a golden opportunity to impact the court's composition by nominating a favorite judge - but when further study reveals the candidate's conflicting ideology and cloudy social affiliations, the President might change his mind and opt for another judge. In addition, a headline-seeking congressman on the House Government Oversight Committee accuses the White House staff of substance abuse - a dicey issue for one important member.

Click here to watch "The Short List"

Av --

There are many ways to tell a television episode was a particularly gripping one, and one of them is when you see the end credits and find yourself shocked that the episode is over. This was my experience at the end of "The Short List," though it's also possible my surprise is owed to the fact that this show has yet to have a major storyline extend over more than one episode, and the drug thing wasn't quite resolved. (I'm anxious to see how the staff - and/or Bartlet - is going to help Leo, who already seems defeated. Also, who cares if he had a pill problem 6 years earlier? He was treated and now he's sober.) This episode also keeps most of the focus on the primary story: the last-minute chaos surrounding a Supreme Court justice nomination. I think I enjoyed the subject material more than the ones involving the battles over legislation, because while, as someone who's historically been a casual observer of Washington, I'm not familiar with too many White House battles to get bills passed, I've certainly seen a fair share of Supreme Court nominations, and the battles contained therein. (I remember watching the Clarence Thomas vote live. I was 9, so my memories consist of small tidbits: being annoyed that the Pirates/Braves NLCS was on an off night, my parents obsessing over how Joe Lieberman would vote, and rooting for a tie.) What struck me most, I think, was just how many voices there are when a spot on the highest bench is open. It stands to reason; years can go by before another spot opens up, giving enormous weight to each selection. But consider the amount of people we see weigh in with their opinions: Josh, Mandy, Sam, Toby, the outgoing justice, the lead candidate himself (Harrison), and of course, Bartlet. The beauty is that the guy with the final say is the mystery man who sends Sam Harrison's "unsigned note" from his time at Harvard Law Review. Sorkin wisely avoided the scandal route, instead choosing a less flashy, but more realistic way, to ruin Harrison's nomination: political philosophy. (Very realistic, actually: the constitutional right to privacy, among other things, also sunk Reagan nominee Robert Bork.) The fact that the nomination instead went to the hardworking, unassuming underdog is just the icing on the cake.

I've been meaning to address this, so let me get it off my chest here. It's pretty obvious to anyone who's watched TV before that one can clearly see by now the beginnings of two future relationships that are inevitable: Josh and Donna, and C.J. and Danny. I think the Josh and Donna one can be very interesting, given their working relationship, and keeping in mind that Josh used to date Mandy. The C.J./Danny one annoys me to no end. Maybe it's because I find Timothy Busfield insufferable in every role of his, but I just do not like this one bit. It's a conflict of interest, one C.J. is too smart to indulge in, and I'm annoyed that we're headed down that road anyway.

-- Binny

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Binny --

As a recent law school graduate, an episode about choosing a Supreme Court Justice, particularly one that focused on judicial philosophy, rather than other factors, is tremendously interesting to me. I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn that, unlike Justice Harrison, I firmly believe that there is a constitutional right to privacy. I never really understood the argument of so-called "originalists" in debates like this: namely, that the framers intended to limit our rights only to those they specifically delineated and that we are supposed to read the constitution in a vacuum, only focusing on its "original intent." Even in the context of canons of religious law, where one can argue the laws were divinely authored, or, at the very least, divinely inspired, I find this line of thinking difficult to accept. All the more so in the context of secular law, where certainly nobody would argue that James Madison's pen was guided by the hand of god. Sam's insight on this issue was fascinating to me, as he explains that privacy is important not because of its implications that we understand (abortion), but rather because of the future ones that modern technology will create that we can't yet comprehend.

The issue of the "unsigned note" is a thought-provoking one. It made me think of the Senate confirmation hearings of 30 years from now and the countless "unsigned notes" that will likely present themselves in the forms of emails, blogs, and whatever it is that gets invented tomorrow. In fact, I can imagine an aide to a member of the Senate Judiciary Committee reading these very words down the line in search of incriminating information about me for my own confirmation hearing. Perhaps it would be wise not to comment on Senator Lillienfield's allegations that 1 in 3 of this blog's contributors use drugs on a regular basis.

Why do people care that Leo is a recovering drug addict, you ask? Well, why did they care whether Bill Clinton inhaled or not in college? Or whether George W. Bush had a DWI when he was 30? (Or whether Laura Bush killed a guy?!) People care about these things even if they don't have any impact on the person's current job performance. It might be dumb, but it's reality. Also, there is a tendency to be suspicious of addicts who claim to be sober, so there would probably be a decent percentage of the public convinced a Valium addict was running the White House, and what kind of example does that set for our children!

The theme of practicality versus idealism returned once again in this episode in an interesting way. Firstly, we have the outgoing Supreme Court justice accusing the president of "running great guns" in the campaign, but then driving to the "middle of the road" immediately after taking office. The president defends himself by raising all the practical obstacles that stand in the way of his governing the way he would prefer to in an ideal world, leading to Jusitce Crouch channeling his inner Lloyd Bentsen: "I remind you, sir, that I have the following things to negotiate: an opposition Congress, special interests with power beyond belief, and a bitchy media." "So did Harry Truman." "Well I am not Harry Truman." "Mr. Bartlet, you needn't point out that fact." Secondly, in a reversal of roles, we find that this time it is Josh whose principles are bothered by the idea of investigating who might be using drugs, while it is Toby who has his eye on the nomination and just wants to get it done.

As for the brewing relationships, I totally agree with you. One of the main plot developments that you can be sure has the potential to ruin a good show is a ridiculous romantic relationship between two main characters. There are countless examples. In this instance, I agree with you that Josh and Donna's relationship is playful and fun and enjoyable to watch as long as it doesn't progress too much from its current dynamic; Danny and C.J.'s, however, is implausible and annoying (and I happen to like Timothy Busfield, so I'm not as biased). Let's hope that neither couple becomes more than just friends, albeit with some occasional flirting.

-- Av

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Av --

I admire your restraint as you play along with your "feelings" about the brewing relationships as if you don't know exactly how they end up; I can't decide if you wrote that last line as a genuine expression of how you felt at the time you first saw these episodes, or with a knowing smirk.

Until I saw this episode and did some research about the topic, I had no idea that the lack of a constitutional right to privacy was a legitimate position held by some originalists. Though I, like you, have had extensive exposure to the notion of religious law canon being a strict code, I can't understand the inflexible originalist philosophy. As "Thomas Jefferson" wrote in the foreword to "America: The Book": "If we had meant for the Constitution to be written in stone we would have written it in stone. Most things were written in stone back then, you know. I'm not trying to be difficult but it's bothersome when you blame your own inflexibility and extremism on us."

As far as the practical issue of privacy is concerned, Sam's speech to Bartlet is ahead of its time. The user-generated content that makes up so much of today's popular internet usage - Web 2.0 - wasn't around back then, but Sam's view is enlightening when thinking about the blurred line between private and public that exists in the current climate. In fact, given the extent to which people forfeit their own privacy on the web, it's scary to consider the prospect of a Supreme Court judge who doesn't see it as a Constitutional right. And you're quite right that the confirmations of 30 years from now will be fascinating due to emails, blogs, etc. So will political campaigns having to deal with old, drunken Facebook pictures. I'm sure that current college undergraduates who have their entire future political lives on their mind at all times are being careful and taking relevant advice. But that has to be a small minority, right? I think it's more likely most candidates running for a Congressional seat in 30 years have a whole new set of "background" problems to deal with than the current generation of politicos do.

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 8: "Enemies"

2008-12-29T16:57:00.006-05:00

Plot summary: A crucial banking bill is at risk when political rivals of environmentally sensitive President Bartlet attach a land-use rider to it that would allow strip-mining some of the Montana wilderness while C.J. tries to stamp out rumors -- however true -- that the Chief Executive chastised the Vice President during a cabinet meeting. An overworked Leo isn't too keen on his independent daughter Mallory dating the handsome Sam. C.J. continues to fend-off the romantic charms of a perceptive reporter with a knack for sniffing out juicy stories. Former lovers Mandy and Josh clash over the administration's attempt to jettison the land-use rider that might ruin passage of the more important banking bill.

Click here to watch "Enemies"

Av --

I don't know if it's the absence of Sorkin as a credited writer (first time that's happened so far), but this episode seemed to lack a certain unifying theme or penetrating insight that the others seem to have. That said, there are still bits and pieces worth talking about. Back in "Five Votes Down," we discussed the ramifications of winning the actual battle but losing the PR one. This episode deals with that as well, the difference being that this time the staff is divided over when to concede, and at what cost. While Sam, Mandy, and ultimately Toby are willing to deal with the fact that House Republicans attached a rider to a bill just to rankle the administration, Josh is unable to let it go, and vows to find a way to "win." Then we're left with a conclusion that has Josh re-considering his motivations and admitting to the president that he feels their motivations in these battles has skewed towards vanquishing political enemies. The question I'm asking myself: is that such a bad thing? Granted, if Josh's entire agenda is solely competition-based (as Mandy would have us believe), he'd be hindering his boss's ability to legislate effectively. But within this "ulterior motive" couldn't there just be a desire to not have the White House look weakened (the importance of which is driven home in "Five Votes Down")? In fact, Josh always seems to have that exact principle on his mind: "I do give a damn about hanging a sign outside the White House that says, 'hey, Republicans in Congress, feel free to slap us around anytime you want just to show that you can.'" Josh may be incapable of accepting this kind of loss, but if it's for the right reasons, he shouldn't feel like he has to re-evaluate these feelings.

On a different note, it was interesting to watch some personal developments with Leo and Bartlet. Leo is not above using Sam as a pawn in his battle with Mallory. (Well played, by the way. His daughter trying to go out with one of his staffers was the perfect situation to teach her a lesson about the realities of his job, Machiavellian as said lesson was.) And as for Bartlet... shouldn't he have learned a thing or two about diplomacy by now? Whatever problems he has with Hoynes, how could he think it's a good idea to embarrass him for sport during a Cabinet meeting? Moreover, while we finally learn the background for their animus (brutal primary, followed by Hoynes embarrassing Bartlet by not immediately accepting the VP nomination), shouldn't they have figured out a way to work together? Obviously throughout history presidential nominees have chosen vice presidential nominees not based on credentials or merit but rather political need (nope, nothing recent comes to mind), but if that ticket happens to win in November, shouldn't the first order of business be to work out the differences between the two people at the top? I wish I knew more about president/vice president relationships to know how often - and to what degree - a situation like this comes up (I've read Bartlet/Hoynes has some roots in Kennedy/Johnson), but alas, until I catch up on my reading, I'll just have to watch and learn.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I agree that this episode, much like Sam's birthday message, lacked a bit of panache. This could be because of the obscurity of the central issues that the episode deals with: a banking bill, which I don't think we ever have explained to us in any real detail, and the attachment of a land use rider, a move that I still don't fully understand. (If I am a congressman and want to block a bill from passing, can I attach an amendment to it that makes wearing red illegal?) It could also be because this episode does little more than recycle old storylines and themes a little too quickly: the president's petty quarrels with the VP, and Josh refusing to just take the win, instead needing a knockout punch. Didn't we just do this four episodes ago? Most likely, as you point out, it's because it wasn't written by Aaron Sorkin. Let's hope this trend does not continue as we go forward.

Still, there were some fun parts, including Leo using Sam (without his knowledge) to teach Mallory a lesson. Most striking was Leo's comment to Mallory that he "widowed" her mother the day he took the job. It seems like he has finally come to terms with what happened to his marriage and why, and seems remarkably comfortable with his decision. Watching the president's two chief speechwriters - and architects of his public message - struggle over a simple birthday card was lots of fun as well. It furthers the human element that these characters all share: sometimes the talent is just not there on a given day. Most of all, I enjoyed watching the more informal, somewhat playful interactions between the president and others in this episode, be it Josh, Charlie, or Mallory. I'm not sure I could get used to a relationship that allowed me to make jokes to someone about dumping his dead body but still required me to address him as "sir."

I once posted on a message board in response to this episode, observing that it was interesting that Hoynes takes credit for delivering the South for Bartlet when we know from "Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc" that they did not carry Hoynes' home state of Texas (although not because of the "hat joke," according to Bartlet.) Obviously, stuff like this happens, but it's still somewhat unusual, I think.

--Av

P.S. I particularly enjoyed watching and recapping this episode in the manner in which we are doing it in light of the Vice President's declaration in this episode that "the Internet is not a fad." We at Blogging "The West Wing" wholeheartedly agree.

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Av --

It's not a birthday card; it's a birthday message.

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 7: "The State Dinner"

2008-12-29T10:46:00.002-05:00

Plot summary: As that night's stylish state dinner honoring the Indonesian president looms in the background, President Bartlet keeps his eye on a spate of potentially explosive problems: an FBI hostage standoff with dozens of militant survivalists, a Class-4 hurricane bearing down on a carrier group at sea, and an impending national trucker's strike. Behind the scenes, the gracious First Lady prepares to host the dinner, a pushy reporter flirts with C.J., Josh and Toby corner an Indonesian government official to ask a favor, and a surprised Sam spies his call girl friend Laurie at the event.

Watch "The State Dinner": http://www.megavideo.com/?v=NXG48E00

Av --

I think one of the running concepts that this show presents is the notion of the West Wing as a workplace; these people that we're watching have important jobs, sure, but we're reminded time and again that they are still people working at their offices, and issues that can arise in any other workplace setting can arise there, too. While ordinarily the issue dealt with could be one easily identifiable with the average worker (guy gets yelled at by his boss), given the import of their workplace, the opportunity exists to present common problems with uncommon ramifications. That is what I think was accomplished here, as the Significant Seven - Bartlet, Leo, Josh, Toby, Sam, C.J., and Mandy (Dulé Hill may be in the opening credits but I can't really equate him with the others) - all had to deal with, on varying levels, the challenge of compartmentalization. Any person is naturally going to let professional ups and downs affect him or her on a personal level; an ordinarily challenge for the average man could be not letting a professional setback allow him to damage an unrelated personal relationship. But the challenge is that much greater when your profession involves making decisions that impact whether people live or die. (Come to think of it, this could explain the continued success of TV medical dramas)

As I mentioned, everybody had to deal with the issue of compartmentalizing the personal and professional, but their degrees of success in meeting the challenge varied greatly. The best microcosm (although least significant, from a global standpoint) of success vs. failure in that regard is the Sam/Laurie encounter (clip starts at 1:34) at the dinner. Sam and Laurie's relationship seems to be one where they're on the same page; Sam, though he doesn't like it, seems to be able to have at least a minimal level of acceptance of Laurie's "night job." But seeing her as "Brittany" in action proves to be too much. Laurie, though she genuinely likes Sam, is able to compartmentalize. She recognizes the situation, frowns for about half a second, then puts that smile back on and introduces herself to him. Sam, bless his wounded heart, can't do it. He can't put the smile back on, can't pretend to introduce himself, almost alienates a big donor, and ultimately proves to Laurie (and himself) that her night job is something he'll never really come to terms with.

Meanwhile, we see Leo and Josh able to compartmentalize when it comes to trying to put aside serious and tragic events that are happening if there's nothing they can do about it. Leo advises C.J., then Bartlet, to go back to the party despite the fact that both feel uncomfortable doing so with thousands of Navy sailors in danger of being killed by a hurricane. Josh is able to tell Mandy that the FBI standoff in Idaho ended with an FBI negotiator in critical condition, then turn around and applaud as the president enters the room. Mandy, meanwhile, needs to throw up. Granted, that had a lot to do with the fact that it was Mandy's own plan that was put into effect, but I was left with the feeling that had it been Josh's plan gone awry, he'd still be able to handle it the way he did. And C.J. might be well on her way to having to deal with the ultimate personal/professional compartmentalization issue: Danny the reporter's flirting is getting more direct, and she's getting more receptive. Though she seems like the consummate professional (and if there's any press secretary who could pull off dating a reporter it's C.J. Cregg), I really think this would be a terrible idea. There's compartmentalizing, and there's flat-out conflict of interest.

Finally, the most poignant separation of personal from professional is the Toby storyline. From a narrative standpoint I love how this was done, as we see Toby's insistence on writing a toast that tackles Indonesia's violations of human rights, and only at the end do we discover that his motivation stems not just from, well, being Toby, but because of a personal cause - his friend is unjustly sitting in an Indonesian jail. The reason I think it's a great storyline is because we're indirectly asked to consider whether Toby would've changed the content and tone of the toast he wrote had he known that his request on his friend's behalf would've been met the way it was. (In short: "Go to Hell.") I, for one, don't think he would have. Though he undoubtedly cares for his friend, Toby is not one to let a personal stake interfere with his job serving what he perceives to be the best interests of the country.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I liked your brief comparison between working in the White House and working in a hospital because I have learned, from watching many episodes of Scrubs and from talking to some real-life medical professionals, that the only way to be successful is to achieve the type of compartmentalizing you spoke of. In short, if you break down every time a patient dies and take it personally, you're never gonna make it. In the White House, the stakes can also be life and death, at times, but even when they're not, the quality of thousands of people's lives are in play with almost everything you do: ensuring people have health care, that their children have proper education, or in this current administration's case, making certain their rich friends have sufficient tax cuts. It is a job that brings with it a lot of passion, and as we see in this episode, requires a personality that enables you to separate your personal emotions at time in order to be successful professionally.

Toby's storyline is particularly interesting to me. First of all, from a comedic standpoint, it was very well-executed, featuring a hilarious scene where two translators are required as middlemen to facilitate a conversation between Toby and an Indonesian official, only to learn than the official is actually fluent in English. But from a more serious standpoint, Toby's relentless commitment throughout this episode (and the past few episodes, as well) to never miss an opportunity to accomplish something is enlightening. Whereas others might view the upcoming fundraiser in California (mentioned in "The Crackpots and These Women") and a state dinner as nothing more than a fundraiser and a dinner, Toby sees them as opportunities to make a statement and effect change, even if a minor one. This passion might be a little misguided at times, because, let's face it, sometimes a dinner is just a dinner, but it is inspiring nonetheless. I was also moved by his conversation with the Indonesian official, particularly when Toby is asked if it's hypocritical for a nation that wiped out a civilization of Native Americans to lecture the world on human rights. Toby concedes that it is, but I think we can tell that Toby has considered this point and believes that it is specifically because of our past that we are in a position to do so.

Finally, I'd like to discuss Bartlet's role in this episode, aided by the emergence of the First Lady as a character for the first time. Bartlet is faced with a trifecta of crises: an FBI standoff, an approaching storm, and a last minute negotiations impasse between the Teamsters and the trucking industry. Ultimately, he chooses the last of these problems to focus on, and does so in an aggressive way that is sure to anger both sides, but will also get the job done. He resorts to this method because as Mrs. Bartlet puts it, "he can't save a gunshot victim and he can't stop a hurricane." Firstly, I think it is great to have a character on board that can give us unparalleled insight into the president's motivations and behavior. Secondly, she raises the notion that as human beings, when faced with a series of problems, we will often focus on the simplest of the problems and ignore the more pressing ones, because that's the one we can fix. This is an idea that I think has a lot of truth to it (I know Stephen Stills would embrace its sentiment) and is one that will continue as an ongoing theme throughout the series.

-- Av

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Av --

See, I thought you'd be pleased with Mrs. Bartlet because she seemed to support your theory about the "three fifths of all other persons" being in the original Constitution. You surmised that maybe that phrase is there as "a chilling reminder of the 'original sin' legally inscribed into the founding document of our government." When asked about the potentially controversial vermeil in the White House collection, Abbey remarks, "It's our history. Better or worse, it's our history. We're not going to lock it in the basement or brush it with a new coat of paint. It's our history." Make of that what you will.

I agree it's great to have a character like the First Lady as a regular part of the show, but for a different reason. I don't think she can give "unparalleled insight into the president's motivations and behavior"; after all, Leo knows him just as long, and just as well. What I think she can do, though, is serve as the personal conscience - be there to remind him what's at stake personally, whereas his staff is there to keep him focused politically. I'm also intrigued to see the level of involvement Abby will have in the administration; given who the real First Lady was at the time it, was probably a delicate issue.

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 6: "Mr. Willis of Ohio"

2008-12-24T10:41:00.006-05:00

Plot summary: Toby and Mandy work to convince some congressmen - including the nervous Mr. Willis, who assumed his late wife's office - to approve a commerce bill that includes a vital census-counting provision, while the president's daughter gets into an ugly fracas in a Georgetown bar along with Josh and Sam. Elsewhere, C.J. swallows her pride and asks Sam for help to understand the basic components of the administration's stance on random census-taking in 2000, and a peeved President Bartlet scolds Leo when he learns that Leo's wife has left him.

Watch "Mr. Willis of Ohio": http://www.megavideo.com/?v=2SWZTG1N

Av --

Eight weeks before he died, Jim Valvano advised the audience at the ESPY awards, and a much larger audience watching on television: "To me, there are three things we all should do every day. Number one is laugh... Number two is think... And Number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy." Though I'm beginning to suspect this won't be the last time it happens while watching this show, this episode helped me accomplish the first two, and while saying it "almost" helped me accomplish the third would be an exaggeration, it was certainly putting me on the right track. Let me start with the laughing. I unabashedly loved the Josh/Donna ongoing dialogue about the merits of the government spending a budget surplus. It was much more than the witty banter they exchange; it was the way the witty banter was used to break down a complex political issue into simple partisan positions (including, notably, poking fun at the liberal side), with practical ramifications at the forefront of the discussion. And in a related story, the execution of the census storyline was perfection. The challenge of spending the amount of time they did discussing the census is that the head count/sampling debate isn't just complex, it's flat-out boring. To make it as accessible and intriguing as they did is no small feat, and it was executed in a way that managed to be highly entertaining without pandering to the viewers. A line like C.J.'s, "Pretend for the purposes of this conversation that I'm dumb," is usually code for, "you viewers don't get what's going on so pay attention because we're going to explain it to you slowly." In this case, though, it served as fodder for more back-and-forth between Sam and C.J. (OK, and as a way to tell viewers to pay attention.). In short, I can't say it any better than Richard Schiff: "That Aaron can make things like the census as fascinating as he does on the show is a benefit for anyone who watches."

Number two is think. I thought a lot about Bartlet after this episode. We've discussed person vs. president ad nauseum thusfar (and I'm sure we will again), but here the focus was strictly on Jed Bartlet the person. The friend, the father, the "camp counselor." I'm starting to realize that the minutiae, often presented as comic relief, actually give us a great deal of insight into the characters. Lately, that's been especially true of Bartlet. We saw it last episode during the basketball game, and we saw plenty of it in this one. For one thing, he's insufferably stubborn, which we can clearly tell by the way he refuses to play his turn in poker until his trivia questions are answered. For another thing, he firmly believes that he knows more than anyone he's talking to, evidenced by the fact that he actually pesters his staff with trivia questions during said poker games. But in two more serious situations, these traits come to the surface and put him at odds with someone close to him. In the first such scenario, his reaction to Leo's impending divorce, he reacts the way we (and Leo) expect him to: bothered by the situation, guilted by his indirect role in causing it, angered with Leo for his letting it get to this point, and convinced it can be fixed. Fortunately, he comes around, reverses course, and makes himself available as a friend to Leo. The other situation which brings out the quintessential Bartlet is his handling the issue of protecting Zoey following a bad one-two punch: an armed, mentally unstable woman tries to break through security to get to Zoey; and a fight nearly breaks out in a bar that began with unruly college guys hitting on her. (While I'm on the subject: any chance Chelsea Clinton goes unrecognized in a Georgetown bar in 1993? Didn't think so. Were we supposed to buy that? And also, what's with all the people recognizing Josh? Do young people (remember the girls in the diner in "Pilot") recognize Blake Gottesman? How about Joel Kaplan?) Anyway, after Zoey pleads with him to let her live a relatively normal life, he comes down on her with, as he might say, the fury of God's own thunder, detailing quite graphically (and eloquently) the ramifications of the slightest security lapse. It is here, however, that he's right; though the anger may have been a bit uncalled for, the sentiment behind it is completely justified: "proper protection and security... is never too high a price to pay." Their dialogue, however, does highlight a sad reality of the situation, and one worth bearing in mind as grade school-age children prepare to move into the real White House: presidential children are deprived of the ability to live normal lives, but, unlike their parents, they had no say in the decision that put them there.

And number three is cry. Though, as I mentioned earlier, I wasn't quite overcome with emotion, I was genuinely moved by the title storyline, that of Joe Willis, the social studies teacher-turned-Congressman filling his wife's seat for a short while. I've always looked at Congress with a mix of indifference, skepticism, annoyance, and more indifference. Congress, to many Americans like me, represents an irksome, at times corrupt bureaucracy. It's a place where partisan politics, above all else, dictates legislation in this country. To be presented with a man like Joe Willis, someone who is taking his job seriously during the short time he has it, someone who doesn't care that, as Toby puts it, "around here, the merits of a particular argument generally take a back seat to political tactics," is inspiring. So is making me believe that there just might be people like that in our government. It seems like sometimes an episode has one character representing the conscience of the American people. In this case it's Toby, who is moved by the way Joe Willis fulfills his duty, and who quietly takes the time to appreciate a simple, run-of-the-mill Congressional roll call for what it can be, and what it sometimes is: representatives of the American people, doing the best they can to live up to the massive responsibilities they've been given.

-- Binny

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Binny --

Wow. I knew that the nature of this episode was such that you would be able to go in a number of different directions in how you approached it, but I certainly did not anticipate that you would go Jimmy V on us. But boy am I glad you did. Laugh, think, and cry, eh? You seem to be unwilling to admit that this episode brought you to the brink of tears, and that's OK. You're a married man with a child and you have to set an example of toughness. I get it. So let's just use a different word then: chills. The feeling that came over me (that Charlie experienced in person) as the president began his national address at the end of "A Proportional Response" is the very same feeling I got at this episode's conclusion as Toby hears the very simple, yet enormously touching words emitting from his television set: "Mr. Willis...Mr. Willis of Ohio votes yea." From your description of the episode's main storyline, I can tell you felt it too. All I'll say is, you better get used to it.

The kids in the bar being able to recognize Josh but not Zoey is implausible; I agree 100%. Also implausible: the White House press secretary lacking even a basic understanding of the census. Her inability to follow the distinction between standard data and sampling data? Fine. I can live with that. Maybe. But not knowing that we count the people in each state and district in order to determine representation in Congress and local government? Please. Every student in Mr Willis's 8th grade social studies class probably knows that.

This minor subplot is worth further discussion because it, along with Josh and Donna's subplot, is an example of a storytelling tool that you touched upon and that Sorkin will use over and over again. He realized that he will often be forced to find a way to explain the sometimes complicated issues background to those of us that didn't major in PoliSci, but had to do it in a natural, non-condescending way. His solution is obvious, yet flat-out brilliant: have one character explain it to the other. Now, this approach works much better when the "student" is a secretary rather than the press secretary, and I think Sorkin figured that out rather quickly, as Josh/Donna will prevail as the ongoing fixture embodying this dynamic. Essentially, Donna plays the role of the viewer at home who is confused by the issue, asks all the questions that we, too, are wondering, and gets answered by Josh, the policy wonk.

I don't necessarily think that this was done on purpose, but I definitely found it interesting to see the way Josh and Mr Willis's approaches to their respective issues are juxtaposed. Although his responses were surely sarcastic ("Because we're Democrats...you shouldn't have voted for us"), they are typical of the types of reasoning and responses to political issues that Toby believes Mr. Willis defies. Josh chooses his position because of the political party he belongs to; Mr. Willis chooses his based on the side whose argument he finds more compelling. Again, I am not sure this is what Sorkin was going for and certainly Josh would be more than able to give a well-thought-out, sensible explanation for his position, but I still found the contrast interesting.

One final thought on an issue the episode raises. "Whole number of free persons...three fifths of all other Persons." Although the second half of the clause is moot in light of the Reconstruction Amendments (13th-15th), the fact that those words are still present in the actual text is somewhat shocking. I would like to think that they are there to fulfill something similar to the Jewish concept of zecher l'churban - "remembering the destruction." Many Jews have a custom to leave a part of their home unfinished as a way of remembering that our happiness is not complete without the Temple in Jerusalem. (The custom of breaking a glass during the wedding ceremony has a similar origin.) Here, too, perhaps the continued presence of those despicable words in our constitution is there to serve as a chilling reminder of the "original sin" legally inscribed into the founding document of our government. I'm sure there is a much more boring, practical reason for this phenomenon, but a small part of me likes to believe I am right about this.

-- Av

P.S. Hearing the words "fix it" repeated several times is much more tolerable when they come out of the mouth of Martin Sheen (during his marriage advice to Leo) than that of Kenan Thompson.

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Av --

Chills. Maybe that's the right word. Again, I wouldn't go that far, but it's closer to what I was feeling on some level. I think there are many great TV moments I've seen that fill me with some level of emotion. While it's often easier to script something you know can be one of those moments - an impassioned speech, a dramatic plot development, or a traditional emotional moment (wedding, death, etc.), accomplishing the mission of giving the viewer that feeling, but through a quieter, subtler experience (like, say, a man listening to a Congressional roll call) is fine work. And I'm glad to hear it's not uncommon for this show.

As far as Sorkin's method of exposition, he didn't invent the technique of using one character to inform another on a subject, thereby informing the viewers as well. That's one of the oldest tricks in the book. What separates the exposition on this show from the rest of them, I think, is that it plays more naturally into the characters' conversations, especially when, as you point out, someone like Donna is the one used to be on the receiving end of the background information that we need as well. Oh, and he makes it funny, too. That helps. I think you're right that C.J. not knowing the basic info on the census was a bit odd; it was probably less about C.J. not knowing the info and more about needing to inform the audience.

I'm not sold on the idea that Josh is used as an example of partisan politics based on his interaction with Donna. I get the sense that if push comes to shove, Josh would use and appreciate nuance and detail, and form opinions based on much more than what the Party line is. (You concede the same point.) In this specific instance he was summarizing his general philosophy on government spending which, not surprisingly for a Democratic deputy chief of staff, is in line with the Democrats. So I'm not so sure its presence is there to serve as a counterexample to Joe Willis as much as it is to be light but substantive humor on a different topic.

-- Binny

P.S. I give you Valvano, you give me Kenan. Next Chanukah you think you could do better?

Season 1, Episode 5: "The Crackpots and These Women"

2008-12-22T13:45:00.004-05:00

Plot summary: Josh is troubled when he receives a special card informing him of where to safely go in the event of a nuclear attack - a privilege denied to most of his White House co-workers - while Leo instructs the senior staff to meet with various special interest groups, some of whom have wacky agendas. Prior to an important press conference, Toby voices strong opposition to many of President Bartlet's plans for an upcoming California trip and later checks out the rumor that he was not the chief executive's first choice for the job. The president, meanwhile, virtually orders his staff to sample his prized chili when he arranges a reception for his Georgetown-bound daughter.

Watch "The Crackpots and These Women": http://www.megavideo.com/?v=YARBJYCG

Av --

The more I think about what to write about this episode, the more I realize it is the least substantive to date. While the first four have a central storyline in terms of government operations, this one's "serious" themes (leaving aside the comic relief provided by the fringe elements getting rare face time with the senior staff) are more about the workplace relationships. I still found it interesting, though, because I think the relationships the staff have with the president are fascinating. They've known Bartlet so long, and work with him so closely, that even though they address him as "sir," Bartlet can still be seen by them as the guy they play basketball with. (Speaking of, terrific work by Juwan Howard in that scene. He almost made me believe someone would pay him $105 million to play basketball.) Sometimes they have to be reminded that he's not just their friend and boss, he's the leader of the free world. Though it was played for laughs, I found it insightful when Bartlet has the staff look down at the presidential seal in order to have them respond with appropriate enthusiasm to his dinner invitation. The message is clear: I'm the president; try to keep that in mind that once in awhile.

Interestingly, the person least in need of this reminder is also the member of the staff most willing to vocally challenge the president. The tension between Toby and Bartlet was hinted at in the previous episode, when they gently sparred over the president's changing part of a speech on the fly. But the tension escalated, and we're to believe this isn't the first time. In our correspondence about the first episode, you made reference to Toby's "stoic passion and idealism," and his battles with Bartlet, I think, are extreme manifestations of this passion and idealism. (Not so much on the stoic, though.) He clearly wants to seize the opportunity he has in this administration. He grasps the unique position he's in to effect change, and refuses to compromise it in any way. Bartlet, on the other hand, is in a position where he needs to consider every ramification of every decision he makes, and thus he has no choice but to compromise even his own views and ideals. We saw that firsthand when he was forced into responding to the terrorist attack a specific way. What was touching to see was the mutual respect these two have for one another despite their differences; the scene where they admit the faults they see in each other and express their mutual admiration was particularly poignant. In terms of personal relationships with the president, I think Toby's only trails Leo's as the one I'm most looking forward to seeing develop.

Everything else in this episode seemed to be missing something, be it the "crackpots" that the staff was forced to meet with (though score one for the casting department; the UFO guy and the wolf crew were spot-on), or the random discussion at the end about the quality women that work in the West Wing. Even Bartlet's speech at the end, though well-articulated (and apparently well-received by fans), seemed a bit all over the place. The only thing worth discussing, other than Toby, is Josh's noble decision to not accept an NSC card which essentially proclaims him "more important" than his co-workers and friends. I'm glad they explored the root cause of that decision (the visceral feelings of guilty abandonment he still feels after he ran out of his burning home while his sister didn't make it), because otherwise it really doesn't seem like a big deal. So you're all in this group and consider each other equals, except you officially have a more important title and thus are treated differently in certain situations. Who cares? I suppose the fact that Josh does makes an already likable character that much more likable.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I agree that we do not find that much in the way of substance in this episode, but this episode is pure fun. Indeed, I think that it is very likely the most fun episode in the entire series. This episode's main function is to serve as a springboard in setting up future character developments and relationship dynamics. For me, knowing what I know about these character's personal and professional futures, seeing them interact in these ways was fascinating. Be it Toby's frustrations with the president or Josh's fear that everyone he gets close to will die and leave him alone riddled with guilt, watching these scenes in light of future events gave me all the more appreciation for the way Sorkin developed these characters, but more importantly the subtlety with which he did it. I'm sure that when a writer has grandiose visions of where he wants characters headed, it is very tempting to jump right into that immediately. But instead, here, he merely lays the groundwork, giving us a hint of what is coming ahead.

It is Toby's "feud" with the president, in particular, that I found most interesting. He takes the president to task on the basketball court for compromising his principles because of his "obsessive need to win," a further extension of the tension between idealism and pragmatism the president constantly has to struggle with. He introduces the concept of there being an inner battle between a president's angels and demons, which struck a chord with me, having just seen Frost/Nixon, which chronicles Nixon's self-destruction despite lofty expectations. What a concept: the greatest obstacle standing in the way of a president and greatness is his own humanity, his own personal flaws.

Which bring me to the crackpots...and these women. The notion of the White House opening its doors, even for a single day, to these groups who would never ordinarily be able to have this kind of access, is a noble idea, even if purely symbolic. I greatly enjoyed the line that the staff, in this case Sam and C.J., flirt with while meeting with these fringe organizations, between respectfully listening to their presentations and taking them seriously and overtly mocking them. C.J.'s reaction to the information that the wolves-only roadway would cost the taxpayer "only $900 million" is priceless: "C.J., if we're gonna do this, why not do it right?" "We're not gonna do it." "Sure, there are other things we could spend the money on." "You think?"

Most of all, this episode is about the triumph of people who, as the president puts it, live "in a world that tells [them] to sit down and shut up." This is the case with the women in their lives who are dedicating themselves to public service and succeeding in a man's world, but is even more true with respect to the so-called "crackpots." These groups are, by any objective standard, crazy, but there is something truly admirable about them. Having that much passion and dedication to a cause that you believe in, particularly one for which they are surely ridiculed on a regular basis, is inspirational. Honestly, I think Leo's little "big block of cheese" exercise is more for the staff than for the groups because despite their kookiness, there is a great deal to be learned from them. As Josh puts it in his touching conversation with C.J. in his office, "do you think you have to be crazy to create something powerful?" Maybe you do.

-- Av

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Av --

To answer you and Josh, no, I don't think you have to be crazy to create something powerful. I think it's just one of those "lines" that Josh says which seem, dare I say it, clichéd. (He had one in "Five Votes Down," too - "President Bartlet's a good man. He's got a good heart. He doesn't hold a grudge... That's what he pays me for." - but I think the look on his face as he walks away shows he reveled in how clichéd the line was.) Then again, I guess it depends on how you understand the word "powerful." Many people, fully sane, create powerful things on a daily basis. If power is defined strictly by potential negative global consequences, then I'll concede that maybe you do have to be a little crazy to create something powerful. However, that doesn't mean people who are passionate about "crazy" things, the "crackpots" visiting the White House, are sources of inspiration. Their crazy/power relationship hasn't reached a relevant level. I think the point Leo wants to communicate to the staff is not necessarily to admire the populace's passion for their causes, but rather to embrace the notion that the government should be accessible to all Americans, not just those representing the "big" issues. I do agree, though, that passion is their key to get in the door, as Leo says: "I assure you that listening to the voices of passionate Americans is beneath no one, and surely not the peoples' servants."

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 4: "Five Votes Down"

2008-12-17T10:16:00.010-05:00

Plot summary: Leo needs five more House votes to pass a bill restricting the sale of automatic firearms, but the cost might be too high, especially if he has to go to the unpredictable vice president to help put them over the top. The staff's annual financial disclosure statements prove to be thorny for Toby, whose innocent technology stock purchase last year proved to be wildly profitable, which raises eyes due to his association with an expert in the field. In addition, Leo's long hours on the job cause an unforeseen crisis at home, and the President unintentionally mixes up the potent medications he receives for his ailing back.

Watch "Five Votes Down": http://www.megavideo.com/?v=G37LBRIS

Av --

It's time to talk about the "Walk and Talk." Though it's often done in a subtle way, the style in which a show is filmed can be an indicator of what kind of show the creators are trying to put forth. (Consider the purpose of the documentary-style filming of The Office. Is its existence only serving a narrative function, or does the cinematography subconsciously make us feel like we're watching real people at work?) I've read that when filming Sports Night, director Thomas Schlamme (who directed 16 episodes of the show) began using the "walk and talk," presumably because of the nature of the setting's work environment. (There have been enough SportsCenter "behind the scenes" shows by now to know he made a great call.) And so Schlamme, who directed the pilot of The West Wing and served as an executive producer for 5 years, brought the style to this Sorkin show as well, giving their setting the fast-paced, frenetic energy it so richly deserves. Coupled with Sorkin's dialogue, it's simply a joy to watch. I can already see the "walk and talk" on this show has become part of its essence, so much so it's even a subject for self-mocking: "Where are you going?" "Where are you going?" "I was following you." "I was following you." But to me, the ultimate achievement in this style is what they - episode director Michael Lehmann, director of photography Tom Del Ruth, and camera operator Dave Chameides - managed to pull off in the opening to this episode. In one single camera shot - no edits, no cuts - Bartlet leaves the stage, and the entire cast (with dozens of extras) walks through the bowels of - and exits - the hotel, the camera staying with them for three entire minutes. That's 3 minutes, 11 characters speaking (I'm counting the Josh fangirls as one), down stairs two separate times, through narrow corridors (on location, mind you, not their usual set), with filming starting in front of characters, then moving behind them, then back in front of them, while everybody in the main cast shuffles in and out of frame. It's a cinematic feat nothing short of remarkable. (The fact that someone like me, who tends to concentrate more on narrative and less on scenery, noticed it is a clear sign of that.) The audacious shot wasn't even necessary for the story; the fact that the cast and crew dedicated half a night to shooting a three-minute scene whose greatest import was an aesthetic one is a sign of how committed the people who worked on this show were to making it as good as it can be.

But enough about style; the substance of this episode belonged to Leo McGarry. The point Leo's story calls to attention is clear: we've been watching these people hard at work for a few episodes, but we have to remember that they are people who have families, and who once had lives outside of work. What struck me, though, was something else: is being on the White House staff the only job with insane hours? Of course not. Millions of people work harder and longer than they would like, and their families have to find a way to cope. What makes Leo different? Two things. For one, he only came to this crazy job later in life, long after he and his wife had settled into their routine. While it's certainly hard to be married to an 80-hour-a-week worker in your 30's, it's undeniably harder when the life you've become accustomed to is suddenly altered dramatically. The other, more important difference is that Leo believes his work (for the time being) is more important than his family. While he may be right, you can't blame his wife for not appreciating that sentiment. It's terribly sad that it came to this for him, but I think he realizes it's a situation he can't really solve. The effect of being a senior staffer on a personal life is something we're going to have to think about as we see other staffers foster new or current relationships. As for Leo, he'll be OK. We saw that his personal situation does not affect his work (yet), and now he has a support group to make sure he doesn't turn to self-medicating. (By the way, I love Sorkin's reasoning that this kind of AA meeting exists: "I have to believe that with 545 congressmen and senators, agency directors and White House staff, there have got to be a bunch of people there who are recovering alcoholics, and it wouldn't shock me at all if there were such a meeting.")

The other theme in this episode is quickly becoming a recurring one: that of perception vs. reality. The fact that this is an issue they keep coming back to works for me for three reasons: 1) it's just interesting; 2) the show focuses on the communication staff, so it's a consistently relevant issue; 3) they keep presenting the issue in new ways. While Toby's sticky stock situation (try saying that three times fast) is basically the Sam/Laurie issue with different details (a fact not lost on Sam), the more fascinating storyline in terms of perception and reality is when the Bartlet staff gets a "win" - the anti-weapons bill passes - but it feels like a loss. And it's no secret why. While publicly the bill was presented as an important piece of legislation, privately the staff knew the real battle here was making the White House look strong, a fact which Josh and Leo readily admit. The fight to get 802 passed was a fight to show the White House as having some muscle, a fight they were on their way to winning, until the vice president came in and stole their thunder. Thus, while they won the "reality" portion of the battle, they lost the more crucial one - the VP got the credit for the win. (And why did Josh feel that confronting Hoynes about the credit swipe would do anything other than make him feel worse?) Meanwhile, it's obvious that the POTUS/VP dynamic is one worth watching. I don't find it implausible that the president and vice president have different staffs, different offices, and occasionally different agendas. But can this amount of dysfunction exist? The relationship as is between Bartlet and Co. and Hoynes cannot be good for either's future, nor the future of their party. Somehow I think we haven't seen the last of this.

-- Binny

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Binny --

I won't focus on your cinematic analysis of this episode, as you have done a more than adequate job attending to that already. I will, however, expound upon your final point on this subject as I think it is a big part of what made this show so successful: namely, the commitment and dedication of everyone involved with this show to make it what it became. Achieving the attention to detail and realism of scenes like this necessitates Sorkin/Schlamme being able to get every member of the cast to buy into their vision of the show and understand the importance of getting it exactly right. I remember hearing Sorkin/Schlamme explain in the DVD extras that in an upcoming episode (I don't remember exactly which one, and no, there are no spoilers of any sort coming up here) there is a scene where C.J. is having a conversation with someone (I think Josh) in the foreground and if you pay attention, you can see that in the background Toby is having a conversation with a random staffer. This latter conversation was totally irrelevant to the plot and would probably not even be noticed by most viewers, but Sorkin/Schlamme believed that this added an element of realism to the scene because, after all, that's how offices work; the press secretary and communications director would often find themselves in the same room, even if they are not meeting with each other. The kicker here is that adding this little nugget of authenticity to this scene required Richard Schiff to come in for filming on a day when they wouldn't be filming any other scenes that he was actually "part of," a level of commitment that seems out of line with typical Hollywood stereotypes.

I was looking forward to hearing your thoughts on Leo's behavior in this episode because being married yourself, you are in a far better position to understand the depth and ramifications of a man declaring to his wife that something else is more important than their marriage. (Quick marriage advice from someone who knows nothing about it: don't try to make this argument to her about the Mets; it won't work.) When I think of couples that split despite lengthy relationships, even when the "reason" is about prioritizing things of importance in their lives, it is usually more likely attributed to a waning of the loving feelings that they once shared. However, here that doesn't seem to be the case; it appears that Leo still dearly loves his wife and I don't think it would be unreasonable to suggest that his marriage to her is the second most important thing to him in the world. It's just not number one and they disagree about whether that is acceptable. (Although an argument in his wife's favor could be Leo's unrelated words later in the episode that "if the White House isn't strong, it doesn't really matter what number two on my list is.") This reality is both depressing and heartening because while it surely is demoralizing for people like Leo who find themselves in situations like this, it would be encouraging to believe that his real-life equivalents share that level of commitment to serving our interests.

Which brings me to the central issue of the episode: guns. I will attempt to avoid getting on a soapbox and launching into a tirade against the lunacy of the way our society and the courts have interpreted the second amendment. Instead, I will merely echo Josh's sentiments during his spirited conversation with his old buddy, Congressman Chris Wick: "we can all get together on the grenade launcher, right?" There are assault weapons out there that legally infiltrate our streets that serve no purpose other than killing human beings. They are not used for hunting and they are not necessary for self-defense. They are used to murder people. That's all.

This episode also gave us what I thought was a very realistic insight into the way whipping (yes Kramer, because they whip them) votes for legislation works. We are presented with a wide array of motivations for why these Congressmen are voting in a certain way and varying tactics used to lobby their vote. We see a politician threatened by special interests won over through bullying (featuring a wonderful emergence of Josh's inner Rahm), a political stunt to get attention that has nothing to do with the merits of the bill, and principled objections to the bill either because it goes too far or because it does not go far enough. (As an aside, I have always found these "protest" votes particularly interesting because in modern politics they often seem to backfire. In this case, we could expect a future campaign opponent of Congressman Richardson's to run an ad citing this vote as proof that he is "pro-gun.") As Josh explains, the overarching goal is to get back the votes without giving up too much, or as Josh hopes, nothing at all. Lobbying for legislation is all about achieving the goal without sacrificing something that is an even greater priority than the bill in question. So did they accomplish that or did they give up too much? A game of chess with the President? Definitely OK. Having some congressmen upset that they were intimidated? Also probably fine. But yielding credit for the bill's passage to someone else? Taking it one step further and tying it into the episode's other main storyline: what if you accomplish something great, but you lose your wife in the process? Is it worth it then?

-- Av

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Av --

Oh right, I forgot to mention the guns. You're right, the issue is a no-brainer, to the point that the producers of the show didn't even try to balance the issue like they do with others: "'All the network has asked us to do is present a very balanced view of an issue, to present both sides,' said [producer John] Wells. 'The only issue we don't do that on is gun control. Frankly, no one involved in the program feels there is a logical reason for streets to be flooded with Saturday night specials and automatic weapons.'" I like your point about the voting, though. So much goes into deciding which way to vote, be it political currency, standing in the party, special interests, the "too far" or "not far enough" attitude, or, oh yeah, how the Congressman actually feels about the issue. Though I suppose it's slightly outside the scope of this show, I hope we see this type of scenario again.

As far as the marriage question goes, I've only been married about two and a half years, though I suppose that's two and a half years more of marriage than you've had. But then, I haven't had the crazy work schedule you either have had or will have soon. Any way we can combine these experiences so we can better internalize the Leo story? In any case, as a married man I will definitely submit that telling your wife there is something more important than her/your marraige is probably among the worst things you can say. (I haven't tried it.) And yes, if the something in question is the Mets, well, I'm at a loss for how that conversation would end, but it would be rather ugly. Even if the fact that there's something more important than the marriage is true or justified (note: its being true does not make it justified!), admitting it is a one-way ticket to splitsville. What makes Leo's case particularly sad is he's justified, I think, in putting his job first, and she's justified in not wanting to live like that. Add to that the fact that, like you said, they still have the same feelings for each other and it was external circumstances that brought them to this point, and, well, you could see why he needs a drink. But while I agree it's depressing, I'm not sold on heartening. Your basis in saying it's the latter is because you want to believe that Leo's real-life counterparts are as committed to serving the public as he is. I'd like to believe that people in that position choose work over family because of selflessness and dedication to the greater good, but given what we know about politicians, I feel like I'd need evidence of that to believe it.

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 3: "A Proportional Response"

2008-12-15T15:41:00.006-05:00

Plot summary: Still seething over the downing of an fully loaded American jet in the Mideast, a vengeful President Bartlet overrules the joint chiefs' plan for a "proportional" military strike and demands a more severe attack that would result in thousands of enemy and civilian casualties. While Leo and other advisers try to cool off the Commander-in-Chief, Press Secretary C.J. scolds a wayward Sam over his potentially explosive private crusade to rescue a well-known call girl from her profession. Feeling overlooked during the hubbub surrounding the military options, Josh interviews a shy African-American teen as a potential personal aide to the President.

Watch "A Proportional Response": http://www.megavideo.com/?v=0Q6FUCOS

Av --

More and more I'm starting to hope that Dee Dee Myers was well compensated for her work on this show. I recognized her name when I saw her listed as a "consultant" in the closing credits after "Pilot," and I assume as a former press secretary in a real administration, she made a lot of calls on the set as to what could "work" and what couldn't. An episode like this one could not have been made without the knowledge and counsel of someone who directly experienced these situations. I thought this episode was amazing, a thought which only struck me in the last minute, when Bartlet began addressing the nation. It all crystallized for me at that moment: we, the American people, only see the finished product. We see the shiny TV graphic telling us, "This is an NBC News special report," we see an anchor introduce the situation, then we go to the Oval Office and see the president directly address us. That's all we see. But what goes into making that happen? That is what we just saw. On a small scale, we saw literally what makes it happen - Toby and Sam hurriedly and exhaustively writing and re-writing the actual speech. But on a larger scale, we saw a president having to deal with his first major decision in his role as commander-in-chief.

I'm sure this concept has been covered extensively, but it is fascinating to consider the notion of the president as, literally, the commander-in-chief. Granted, there have been many generals and military veterans we've elected to the presidency, but often the man in charge has no real qualifications for being in charge. He may be qualified as a chief executive which serves him well in other capacities, but leader of the armed forces? How did that happen? That's the central issue here, and it's one that's particularly humbling for President Bartlet. He admitted in the last episode that the only experience he has in this field is being in charge of New Hampshire's National Guard while serving as governor there. Now he finds himself having to decide between what is accepted as standard operating procedure - retaliating with a proportional response - and what he perceives to be a more fitting punishment. The question I asked after the last episode, the one about how much of Bartlet's attitude is based on his personal loss, is addressed head on, with Bartlet assuring Leo that he feels the way he does because Americans were killed, not just Morris. But as you said, the issue was less about why he felt the way he did, and more about separating the man - who felt the need to avenge American lives - from the office - which has to behave a certain way in the world. That realization, which Bartlet only came to after an intense conversation with Leo, is a tough one for a new president to stomach, since the idea of there being a specific "fine" that's accepted for taking American lives can run counter to the natural patriotic feelings of the average American, especially those who dedicate their lives to public service.

In a sense, the Sam storyline runs somewhat parallel to the main one, in that here, too, what constitutes a "proportional response" is the issue on the table. C.J. believes that there's no place for a senior White House official to have any kind of relationship with a woman who is a part-time call girl; Sam believes cutting off all contact is a disproportionate response - it's more important to be good than to look good. For the record, Sam is completely wrong here. I understand and respect his conviction and commitment to caring more about the reality of the situation than the perception (even C.J. does), but it shouldn't be just hitting him now that in his position, perception goes a long, long way. Everybody else gets it, why can't he? The importance of perception is brought up again when Josh tells Leo that the only reason he has not to hire Charlie as Bartlet's body man is the perception of the young black man holding the door for, or carrying the bags of, the older, stately white man. And Leo's answer is that the perception does matter, it just won't be perceived the way Josh worries it could be.

Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention one other proportional response in this episode I enjoyed: C.J.'s comeback to Josh after being called a "paranoid, Berkeley, shiksa feminista." I don't know who has more fun, Sorkin writing these lines, or the actors delivering them.

-- Binny

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Binny --

There you go again with your astute title analysis and how it relates to the themes of the entire episode. As I mentioned in our correspondence on "Pilot," one of the most enjoyable aspects, for me, of Sorkin's writing style is the way he ties together the entire episode by implanting common themes into unrelated storylines. I'd like to expand on the theme that you touched upon that runs throughout this entire episode.

In each of the three plots that you mentioned (Bartlet's response to the attack, Sam and C.J.'s discussion about Laurie, and Josh's concerns about Charlie), one of (or a group of) the characters is on the "how does it look/feel" side and the other is on the "what is it really" side. In the latter two subplots, C.J. and Josh are concerned about perception, while Sam and Leo (backed up by Admiral Fitzwallace) focus more on the facts and reality of the situation. Similarly, in the main storyline, Bartlet is preoccupied with how such a minor retaliation, in his opinion, looks and feels. Blowing up some satellites doesn't feel in proportion to him for the human life that was lost. Further, he argues about how it looks: that our failure to act in the past has induced further attacks. Leo and the Joint Chiefs take the more sensible, yet somewhat unfulfilling side of things: it is what it is. It doesn't feel right or fair and certainly doesn't do justice to the human lives that were lost. As Leo explains, "It's not good; there is no good. It's what there is." That's reality. Which brings me back to my point from last episode and the lesson that Bartlet learns in this episode. Last episode's Bartlet didn't feel violent towards America's enemies; this episode's Bartlet wants to retaliate with "total disaster." But by the end, he retreats to the sensible, "proportional" middle. He realizes that even though sometimes you have an idealistic vision of the way things should be, more often than not that vision is defeated by practicalities. Nobody, including Fitzwallace, sees the "virtue" of the proportional response and this endless cycle, or "cost of doing business," as Bartlet calls it. But, for now, "it's what there is."

As for Sam, I agree that he's wrong, but I think I better relate to why everyone else gets it and he doesn't. Simply put, a person's judgment is always going to be clouded when he is the one at the center of the situation, particularly when emotions or relationships are involved. I can't even count how many times in my life I have seen people (myself included) ignore the relationship advice that they have given other people when they are the ones with the problem. It is much easier to tell someone to cut ties with a friend or love interest than it is do so yourself, even if the situations in both cases are identical. If Josh had been the one with this problem, I guarantee that Sam would be giving the same speech to Josh that he receives in this episode. However, when the speech is given to him, because he is emotionally involved, he becomes defensive and self-righteous. As an aside, this episode includes a perfect example of the dark, sarcastic sense of humor that Sorkin has given to Toby Ziegler that I love so much. From his conversation with Sam about C.J.'s knowledge of his Laurie situation: "Think she knows?" "Yeah." "Why?" "She told me she knows." Priceless.

I remember thinking that this episode was the first one that I thought was truly phenomenal. It was the first one that left me speechless at the end and I think served as the final hook to get me to fall in love with this show. It is the first episode to feature the classic Sorkin "chill" scene at the very end and like Charlie watching the president, I had never felt that way before while watching a TV show. And in case you're wondering, no, "it doesn't go away."

-- Av

Season 1, Episode 2: "Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc"

2008-12-11T18:37:00.010-05:00

Plot summary: Despite warnings from fellow office workers, infatuated Sam presses his luck when he continues to publicly pursue a high-priced call girl with whom he shared a night of passion. Meanwhile, C.J. tries to defuse a potentially nasty public clash between the president and his willful vice president concerning the veep's quotes about a bill favored by the chief executive. Exasperated political consultant Mandy Hampton drowns her troubles when her only client ignores her advice and agrees to bottle up a key bill in committee that could have been costly for the president if put to a vote. The president forges a kinship with a young African-American Navy captain who's substituting for his regular White House physician - so much, in fact, that he asks him to assume the position on a full-time basis.

Watch "Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc": http://www.megavideo.com/?v=C6KXSXD0

Av --

Wow. I did NOT see that coming. The episode is moving along nicely, and then out of the blue... a crack about Yeshiva University?

OK, so I sort of did see that coming. I, like you, was in Yeshiva University's high school at the time this episode aired, so the fact that this small, unknown Jewish college (U.S. News and World Report top-50 ranking notwithstanding) was referenced in a network TV show made quite a few waves on campus. Though having Josh sarcastically pick Yeshiva University over the Cowboys overlooks the fact that YU doesn't have a football team, it is to Sorkin's credit that he can call up a joke like that and expect (or not care) that it will land with Middle America. There's the "New York humor" referenced in the pilot.

This episode felt like a second pilot to me. Its function was more about telling us about the characters (and in Mandy's case, setting up her future) than about advancing plot, at least until the dramatic final scene. But I didn't find it unsatisfying; on the contrary, I felt like so much was revealed about the characteristics of these people, even through minimalist stories. The best example I can think of is C.J. "She's a good girl," as Leo put it. The incident with the vice-president shed so much light on the kind of person she is. She was professional during the media briefing when she was blindsided with the potentially damaging quote from the VP. She was dignified in the way she confronted him, even opening with an apology for something that was his fault. And she was classy in the way she "took one for the team," trying to keep the incident away from Leo because Sam and Josh felt that was the best thing to do.

I also learned that though I have never accidentally slept with a prostitute, I find myself relating to Sam for some reason. There's the naivete you mentioned, but it's more in the way that his naivete breeds a certain stilted optimism I often see in myself. And I learned that Leo is not a politician you want to mess with. (I kind of figured that one out from the start, though. Anyone in his position who is willing and able to chew out a New York Times crossword editor should be automatically feared.) But obviously the person most ripe for analysis in this episode is the president. Earlier in the episode he says, "I'm not comfortable with violence. I know this country has enemies, but I don't feel violent toward any of them." He's intimidated by being in the same room with the Joint Chiefs. By that night (or, more accurately, early the next morning), it's, "I am not frightened. I'm gonna blow them off the face of the earth with the fury of God's own thunder." The contrast isn't subtle, and neither is the cause. The president's personal physician, a man he's come to like a lot, a new father, is senselessly killed in an act of terrorism. Hence the fury and thunder. But the question I was left with is what would Bartlet's response have been had the act of terrorism occurred but not involved someone he knew personally? Would he have felt the same way? I think that's why this episode is called "Post hoc, ergo propter hoc." Literally translated (and for the record, when trying to decipher the Latin, I pretty much said exactly what Josh did), the phrase is a logical fallacy: since one thing happened after the other, it was caused by that other thing. (I took my LSATs last week; I have had enough of causation/correlation.) Was Bartlet's sudden change of heart caused by the fact that someone in his life was killed? Post hoc, ergo propter hoc? He'd probably deny it; that's stuff for people like C.J. to believe. He'd insist that his response is objectively commensurate to the situation. But I'm not sure I'm convinced yet.

-- Binny

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Binny --

That is an interesting question you raise at the end. The obvious answer is yes. Essentially, the explanation you offered would be that President Bartlet, the idealistic, sophisticated, nuanced thinker doesn't feel violent towards America's enemies and would probably favor a diplomatic approach to resolve most foreign policy situations when asked about it; Jed Bartlet, however, is a living, breathing human being whose friend was just murdered by terrorists and he wants vengeance. I think this a perfectly valid explanation for Bartlet's change in course during the episode and one I am perfectly willing to accept. I would like to offer another explanation, though, which I think draws on broader ideas of the presidency.

Often times, political leaders make statements on an issue during a campaign or even while in office, and then later either speak or act in a manner that contradicts their earlier statement. Political operatives would call this "flip-flopping" and more academic minds might attribute the change of heart to a reconsideration of facts and intellectual honesty, but I think there is a third possibility: the politician's perspective has changed. The best recent example I have of this comes from Israeli politics. Ariel Sharon was for years the darling of Likud and a vigorous champion of the settler movement, up until the moment he was elected Prime Minister, when he suddenly shifted gears and was the driving force behind Israel's withdrawal from Gaza and the removal of Israeli settlements there. Why the change in policy? The most likely answer, I think, is that Ariel Sharon, the Minister of Agriculture and Minister of Defense could cling to his Utopian idealism of the way he thought things ought to be. Prime Minister Sharon, however, confronted with the facts on the ground and the way things actually were, sitting in the Prime Minister's chair, ultimately decided that the status quo and the policies he had supported his entire political career were not practically feasible and in Israel's best interests, and thus promptly changed course. I think that could be what happened here, as well. It is very easy for Bartlet to speak of his lack of violent feelings towards enemies when he is speaking in the hypothetical. However, once confronted with the loss of American lives under his watch, whether he knew those people or not, the President has to do what he has to do, and sadly, in the world we live in, this usually involves violence.

Your insight about the episode's title was fascinating and one that had never occurred to me. Admittedly, if I had been at the meeting in the Oval Office, the number would have increased by one to 28 lawyers in the room that didn't know what "post hoc, ergo propter hoc" meant. My previous theory of how the title tied into the storyline of the episode has now been supplanted by yours, but I think mine is still thematically relevant.

I found this episode to be a commentary on the state of politics today and our tendency to focus on nonsense issues. In this episode, the White House senior staff deals with a cryptic quote made by the Vice President, the consequences of Sam's legal sexual encounter with a consenting adult, and a joke the President made that offended the Ryder Cup team. Indeed, it is not until the President rhetorically asks, "I've got an intelligence briefing, a security briefing, and a 90-minute budget meeting all scheduled for the same 45 minutes. You sure this is a good time to talk about my sense of humor?" that it occurs to anyone that maybe these "issues" are not appropriate ones for the people running the government to be focused on. Yet, our political discussions all too often revolve around nonsensical news cycles about lipsticked pigs, expensive wardrobe bills, and plumbers who are not actually plumbers. And it's these types of issues that dominate this episode until something real happens to remind everyone what they are doing there. If I was a right-wing Rabbi who believed that the world works in a certain way, I might explicitly declare "post hoc, ergo propter hoc," or whatever the Yiddish translation is: namely, that the tragedy at the episode's end happened because of the nonsense that we were preoccupied with and serves as a wake up call to remind us what is truly important. Thankfully, I have not been ordained and I do not share that view of the world's operation, but within the context of the episode's storyline, the same message rings true. The episode's culmination, for the first time, refocuses the characters on who they are and us, as the audience, on what we are watching: a show about the White House and the President of the United States, a place where real things happen, issues matter, and decisions affect people's lives.

-- Av

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Av --

I agree that the issue of what constitutes an important issue is alluded to, but I don't necessarily agree that this episode concerned itself with extended focus on nonsense. For one thing, that "cryptic" quote by the Veep turned out to be a manifestation of increased frustration with the president and Leo, and I believe is an indicator of where they stand with each other and a potentially dangerous harbinger of things to come. (Oh, and try to resist the urge to use that as a springboard to go off on Cheney and vice-presidential power. It will be fun, I'm sure, but ultimately too distracting.) And the staff didn't so much "deal" with Sam's relationship as much as addressed it, and with extreme brevity. One meeting with Josh, one with Toby, two reluctant "just be careful"s. And actually, I found how they dealt with it to be of great interest, because in this day and age of YouTube and Facebook and no privacy in the public sector, there's no way Josh and Toby take that approach. I don't think the act of terrorism was a "wake up call" in the sense that "this is why we're here"; on the contrary, Josh's achievement in the morning (beating Lloyd Russell to keep a bill in committee, thus essentially keeping Russell at bay as a potential opponent) seems like a more standard White House event than having to deal with a terrorist act. Or at least that was the case before 9/11. I agree that the Ryder Cup storyline is representative of the kind of thing that we overvalue in terms of news importance, but on the other hand, these aren't people in the national security office. They are the communications team. They have to react ("play defense," as C.J. put it) when these stories are being eaten up by the media and the masses.

As for your approach to the question I raised about Bartlet's change of heart, I think you're right on. Too often we see things in black and white, including (especially?) politicians' stances. Since at some high levels, especially Congress, a stance is only reflected in a yes/no vote, it can be easy to see that as a flip-flop instead of a more nuanced change of perspective. (By the way, I think your explanation of this nuance is the same as the academics' "reconsideration of facts and intellectual honesty." Why did they reconsider the facts and change their minds? The new perspective.) I agree that a president can come in believing (and promising) that he won't raise taxes, and then circumstances cause him to change that belief (and break that promise). And there's no question there was a change of perspective for Bartlet. But my question about Bartlet the man still applies, and here's why. I could believe in non-violence as a response in foreign-affairs situations and then feel differently after being affected by something personally. It's human nature. But I also don't have the power to respond. If Bartlet only feels violent because of his personal stake in this tragedy, it's a sign of his inability to separate himself from his office. I'm not saying that's an automatic strike against him; we elect people in large part because of what we think of them as people, figuring that their character can and will influence the decisions they make in the office. But it's something I'd like to know.

-- Binny

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Binny --

Your points are well taken. I agree that these issues are important as they relate to character development and furtherance of the plot, but looking at them in a vacuum as issues, these are not the types of things I would want discussed in the Oval Office or handled by the White House Chief of Staff in a perfect world. Sadly, the reality is that often enough politics is not about the issues and is instead about, well, politics. And I think Sorkin is definitely trying to highlight that point. I don't necessarily think he is going so far as to say these things don't matter at all and should be totally ignored, but I definitely think he is trying to contrast the triviality of the matters that we deal with in the episode's first 42 minutes and the one that surfaces in the last two.

As for my distinction between change of stance because of reconsideration and because of perspective, I think there is a clear difference. Altering your opinion on an issue is not the same as altering the way you handle an issue because of the position you now have to approach it from. The circumstances of the situation are not what have changed, but rather it is your circumstances as a politician that have changed. I could easily believe that Ariel Sharon fell into a coma still clinging to a deep personal belief in the merits of the settler movement and the ideal of Greater Israel and it is quite possible that Jed Bartlet still, in principle, is a anti-violence pacifist at heart. But the titles they own and the chairs they sit in don't allow them to always follow their heart; sometimes pragmatism trumps idealism. This touches on a greater theme that you addressed and one that we will continue to see Bartlet struggle with: the necessity of a president to separate between the man and the office.

I'm glad you mentioned Josh's triumph at the beginning of the episode because one of the things I hope to be on the lookout for in this latest re-watching is the Rahm Emanuel persona inside Josh's character. I wasn't aware of this nugget (Josh being based on Rahm) until last month, but already at the beginning of this episode, we have a clear example. On that note, was it just me or can you easily imagine Obama having precisely the same conversation with one of his aides or a military man he trusts that Bartlet has with Morris Tolliver? Bartlet is insecure because of his lack of foreign policy experience and has to be reassured that what he lacks in experience he more than makes up for with his intellect and judgment. Part of me wishes that we could have seen the president's relationship with Morris develop further, as one of the things Sorkin does best is showing the development and evolution of one-on-one relationships between his characters. Already in this episode, we get a few gems, most notably those between "bosses" and their assistants: the President and Mrs. Landingham, Leo and Margaret, and of course, Josh and Donna. Watching the dynamics of these relationships at play is truly one of the most enjoyable aspects of this show and one that I am sure you will love.

-- Av

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Av --

I agree the contrast between trivial issues and important ones is striking, and presented in order to be striking. On the other hand, if that helicopter isn't shot down, there wasn't a bigger issue that day to distract them from the other ones. I've seen the footage of NBC's Today Show the morning of September 11th, 2001. Before 8:46, it was standard Today fare: a cooking segment, some shopping stuff, the usual. After 8:46, it was probably weeks, if not months, before they returned to the regular, "trivial" segments. In other words, it's all relative. Yes, the people who work in those offices are there for the big issues, but big things have to happen first.

In response to your Obama question, I have been holding myself back from any Bartlet/Obama comparisons (and I've been tempted several times already) until I get a better sense for both Bartlet and Martin Sheen's portrayal of him. But some thoughts have definitely been festering, yes. (Side note: Sorkin's already invaded my brain. I only used that word because of this back-and-forth from this episode: "In the event of a military coup, sir, what makes you think the Secret Service is gonna be on your side?" "Now that's a thought that's gonna fester.") And yes, I could totally see Obama having that conversation. But then in 2000, I probably would've said the same about Bush. As for Rahm Emanuel, I only know what I've read; I don't remember him or his persona well enough from the Clinton years to bring up any Josh Lyman comparisons. And you're right, I am starting to enjoy the one-on-one relationships, partly because it's something I enjoy in many shows. But it's also because I am a sucker for all things Kathryn Joosten.

-- Binny

Season 1, Episode 1: "Pilot"

2008-12-10T14:33:00.015-05:00

Plot Summary: The entire White House staff bristles with activity when it's learned that the President injured himself during a bicycle accident, and his absence becomes a factor as chief of staff Leo McGarry must juggle a host of impending crises, including a mass boat lift of Cuban refugees approaching the Florida coast and the reaction of conservative Christians to a controversial televised comment by Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman. Meanwhile, Sam Seaborn , the trouble-prone Deputy White House Communications Director, unknowingly spends the night with a call girl and then makes another critical error during a children's White House tour.

Watch "Pilot": http://www.megavideo.com/?v=DM91J9A5

Av --

So I finally got around to watching that show you've been telling me about for some years now. No, not that one. I speak, of course, about The West Wing. I just finished watching the pilot, only 3,366 days after it first aired on NBC. Watching any show from scratch 9 years later is a fascinating study that can often result in disappointment: for comedies, styles of comedy and senses of humor change all the time; for dramas, scenarios that seemed plausible and/or created suspense when they were aired may be completely dated by now. From what I know about this show, however, the time gap between airing and viewing should prove to be irrelevant. (Dated jokes, such as the one in the pilot about then-new NFL instant replay, excepted.) No matter how much the setting - presidential politics - may have changed in the last decade, as you said, the show isn't about the White House per se; it's merely a vehicle to express ideas and views. Working with that premise, I'm glad I'm only coming to it now. I was 17 when the show debuted. Not that I'm so much more mature now, but I certainly think that I'm in a better place to appreciate the layers presented and available for analysis than I would have had I watched the original airings.

What took me so long? Honestly, I don't know, and I don't think it's relevant to this discussion. What is relevant, however, is what I do know going in. From a details standpoint, I know very little. I'm familiar with who is in the main cast, and who the show's driving force is. (Or was, for four seasons.) That's basically it. Somehow I avoided any and all plot details, analyses, and repeated airings on Bravo. But back to the driving force. Aaron Sorkin is the type of writer I know I'm going to love. Yet somehow I've steered clear of most of his major works. Sports Night sits on my shelf, untouched. I didn't feel right watching Studio 60 as my first Sorkin show. And I never saw Malice, The American President, or Charlie Wilson's War. I did, however, see A Few Good Men, Sorkin's first major credit, and it is one of my favorite movies of all-time. What is it about that movie that made me want to record its audio, put it on a CD, and listen to it in my car 10 times one summer? I think, in no particular order, it was the superbly written story, the sharp dialogue, the richly-drawn characters, and the acting performances. Which brings me to The West Wing.

I don't read much in the way of fiction. As such, my exposure to original content creators in mainstream mass media is pretty much confined to television and movies. And my favorite creative artists tend to be the ones who tell great stories, rich in both content and characters, with sharp, smart dialogue being of central importance. Quentin Tarantino, Kevin Smith (20th-century version), and David Chase come to mind, as does Larry David to a lesser extent. Based on the combination of A Few Good Men, what you and another fellow Met fan friend passionately believe, and this pilot, I don't think it will be long before Sorkin joins that group. The pilot was probably the best pilot I've ever seen. Any pilot's goal, presumably, is to introduce the setting and characters, but the way in which he accomplishes this is pure artistry. There was only one explicit expository speech (Sam Seaborn's backstory, told comedically to a class of 4th-graders); instead there are unforced, genuine-feeling conversations to guide us as to who and what we need to know. I also respect the basic plot outline: instead of trying to get our attention with a major national emergency, or starting off from Day 1 of the presidency, we essentially see a somewhat typical day. There's a national issue on the table (the Cuban exodus to Florida), but it's presented as the kind of issue that arises every day. There is a damage control issue (Josh's remark to a right-wing Christian leader), and it's handled well by the right people. And everybody is at their beepers (there's a clear 1999 sign for you) when the president has a minor bike accident. In just 42 minutes we learn so much about these people, just by watching them in their element. It may look effortless, but to me that's a sign of how terrific the writing is. And as for the actors, well, I'm fortunate that there's nobody in the main cast I can only associate with another role and thus am able to pretty much let the performances speak for themselves. Though die-hard fans probably feel this applies to more of the cast, so far there are three people who just seem born to play the roles they've been given: John Spencer as Leo McGarry (I'm guessing chief of staff? They don't make it clear right away); Allison Janney as press secretary C.J. Cregg; and Richard Schiff as communications director Toby Ziegler. I can't wait to watch them again. The others were perfectly fine, too, though it will take some time for me to get used to Bradley Whitford playing this kind of role (I can see you laughing as you read this; I suppose I will be too should I read this again in a few weeks/months).

And the dialogue. Man, is that something. You probably won't be surprised when I tell you I found myself rewinding early and often, in an effort not to miss anything. It's a truly fast-paced show, and completely dialogue-driven, which makes me thankful I watch on Winamp, a program which lets you rewind 5 seconds back with the push of one button. What impresses me most, I think, is the combination of well-written monologues and snappy dialogue. It's hard to be good at writing both of those, but there were plenty of examples of the former (I suppose the president's opening screed remains most prominent in my head) and the rest of the script was pretty much an example of the latter. The acerbic sarcasm is used well; if you're going to go the sarcastic dialogue route as your primary dialogue device, I'd say Rule One is "be funny," and they nail that. What makes it more enjoyable is that the sarcasm doesn't just sit there - there's invariably an equally amusing retort: "You're the White House Deputy Communications Director and you're not good at talking about the White House?" "Isn't it ironic?" These lines don't simply exist to make us laugh; guys like Sam need to get the last word in.

Finally, perhaps most importantly, this show just felt real. I think it was primarily the dialogue - this felt like how people talk, how important people talk. Sorkin created, at least to this one-episode-seen point, a fake White House I can believe is real. The writing sells it, the acting sells it, even the staging and cinematography sells it - the episode is bookended by a superb long take through the bowels of the office, and an inspiring pan/high-angle zoom out on the Oval Office; it's no surprise this episode won an Emmy for best direction in a drama. The only thing I'm still not sure I'm sold on is Martin Sheen as the president, though it's hard to judge from only two scenes. (Aside: going 85% of the pilot episode of a show about the White House without showing the president? Gutsy. Also: they didn't even mention his name!) I'll give that one some time, and I'll even agree to let slide the overly cinematic way he was introduced to us, enjoyable as that moment (3:19 into the clip) was.

I feel like I've pretty much covered everything except the hilarity of giving a chracter played by Rob Lowe an awkward/potentially incriminating tryst right off the bat. Anyway, I'm thrilled to be starting this project and, with that in mind, I'd be delighted to hear some of your thoughts on this episode. (Remember, don't spoil future plots!)

-- Binny

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Binny --

I'm glad to have you on board. This promises to be an exciting and enlightening experience for both of us. I am actually delighted to hear how little exposure you have had to The West Wing, as hearing your unbiased, initial reactions to a show that I know backwards and forwards by now will make for a very interesting perspective in my opinion.

The point you make about being in a better place to appreciate the show now than when it first aired is an interesting one. As I mentioned in my initial post, before watching The West Wing, my interest in politics was minimal. Other than the immediate aftermath of the 2000 election and September 11th, when I - and many Americans - were glued to our television sets and CNN and MSNBC replaced ESPN and MSG as the go-to channels in my bedroom, I generally found politics to be boring. The West Wing changed that for me. It transformed the political arena into one that I found to be of critical importance, entirely fascinating, and one that, on given days, I was sure I would devote my career to. So I would agree that right now I am in a better position to understand the issues raised in The West Wing because I have a better understanding of the real-life situations it is based on. But perhaps if I had started watching the show earlier I would have had a better understanding of the real-life situations at an earlier point. Does watching and appreciating The West Wing generate a better understanding of politics or does a better understanding of politics generate a deeper appreciation of The West Wing? Some might argue that it's irrelevant; I am just left wondering.

As for the pilot, titled "Pilot," while it is a fairly ordinary episode of The West Wing, it is remarkable as a pilot. As you alluded to, the brilliance of the pilot, in a way, is its lack of ambition. It doesn't try to do too much. It shows us a snapshot of the lives of these people on an "average" day and introduces us to them in a way that seems real and unforced, yet allows us to immediately gain a deep insight into their characters: Toby's stoic passion and idealism; Josh's endearing hotheadedness; Sam's genuineness and naivete; etc. The characters advising the president are all exceedingly brilliant, but they are all deep, complex, flawed human beings, and that makes it real. The way they talk feels real, the way they handle problems feels real. One of the great hooks of the show to me is it authenticity. As opposed to other shows, where it's hard to believe that in every case a lawyer tries he either gets the real killer to break down and confess on the witness stand or delivers an impassioned closing argument, or that a hospital is faced with new deadly illnesses on a daily basis that nobody knows how to treat, it is much easier to believe that this type of drama and sense of crisis exists in the White House every single day. The stage which Sorkin has chosen on which to tell his stories allows him to create sensational plots that feel real.

The one aspect of the show that sometimes seems contrived is the way in which the storylines tie together, but this quality is also central to its genius. It is unlikely that in real life the themes of the legislation the staff is trying to pass intersect with a development in one of the staffer's personal lives. On The West Wing, this happens frequently. Sorkin has mastered the art of weaving different storylines together to form a wonderful final product, and although it does seem a tad unrealistic at times, he does it as best as he possibly could. And hey, it makes for great television. In this episode, for example, I think by juxtaposing the story of the Cubans with that of Josh's altercation with Mary Marsh and the religious right, Sorkin has a clear message: the Cubans are the religious right hundreds of years later. As President Bartlet says in his speech in the episode's final scene: "With the clothes on their back they came through a storm and the ones that didn't die want a better life and they want it here." Sound familiar? The Puritans fled England to avoid religious persecution and intolerance and now that they are in the majority, they are the ones unwilling to accept a system of belief and values that is different from their own. Sorkin's opinion of this segment of our society is very clear from the outset of the show and I can assure you it is a topic he will return to quite often.

As for President Josiah Bartlet (that's his full first name, but we'll refer to him mostly as "Jed"), the man most West Wing fanatics dream would be the real President of the United States, or POTUS, you will soon fall in love with him and join that group. He is both brilliant and sincere, a combination that is all too rare in real American politics and owns a charm and quick wit that makes him incredibly likable as a person. Some might think that we just elected such a man last month, but that remains to be seen. For now, I'll stick with Jed Bartlet. One interesting nugget that you may not be aware of: Sorkin's initial vision for the show was to be a show that centered on the White House senior staff, not the President himself. Sam Seaborn, perhaps, was envisioned as the main character. However, a combination of believing this style would inevitably wear out and the extent to which he was impressed with Martin Sheen's command of the character led to a change in direction after the pilot. Your confusion about Leo (you guessed right; he is the Chief of Staff) made me laugh because I actually remember that the first time I watched the pilot, I was also extremely confused about who he was. In fact, I remember concluding midway through the episode that even though it didn't seem right, he must be the President. After all, he seemed to be in charge and nobody else had claimed the title yet, so it had to be him. Oh well.

Anyways, I am glad that this project is now officially underway and I am eager to continue this discussion.

-- Av

P.S. What is it about A Few Good Men that made you want to record its audio, put it on a CD, and listen to it in your car 10 times one summer? Honestly, knowing you as well as I do, I suspect that the answer has much less to do with the movie and much more to do with your personality then you are letting on.

Introduction

2008-12-08T14:29:00.004-05:00

Binny --

As you are quite aware, I have for quite a while been an avid fan of The West Wing. I was introduced to it on a winter night during college by our good friend Harold, watched 7 or so episodes that same night, and have been hooked ever since. I have been through the entire series, beginning to end, at least 3 or 4 times, and there are quite a few episodes that I have seen upwards of 10 times. I am not sure that my passion for, or knowledge of, The West Wing matches that which we both share for the Mets, but I am a deeply committed fan. I don't think it would be a stretch to say that Aaron Sorkin (the show's writer and creator) has influenced my worldview more than any other individual person who has ever lived. He wrote a show that made me laugh, made me think, challenged and shaped my system of values and beliefs, and introduced to me a world of ideas that I had previously found boring and arcane. The brilliance of the show, in my opinion is the way he uses the White House as a vehicle for storytelling in a way that makes the show accessible and entertaining even to those without political science degrees. His ability to tackle issues in a way that can be understood by those who are unfamiliar with their intricacies, yet, at the same time, does not diminish the complexity and nuances that they present, is masterful. It is a show that stretches beyond its political premise and sheds light on culture, human relationships, idealism, and countless other themes that are worth pondering and exploring. As you have related to me your interest in watching this show you have heard so much about, and as I am preparing to begin my latest watching of the series, starting from the beginning, I ask you to join me along that journey for an ongoing discussion about the themes, issues, and ideas that the show raises. I trust that you won't be disappointed.

--Av