I remember when the West Wing started SO VIVIDLY, you guys. It's on Netflix Instant right now, and despite the fact that it's been 13 years since I've seen the first season (I own seasons 2-4 on DVD, but only saw the first season in its original run) I still remember entire scenes almost perfectly. It's interesting to watch it in the Obama era now, and see how much of it was just plain old "Oh man, we can NOT deal with Bush right now" wishful thinking. (It started prior to the 2000 election, but later seasons definitely have that flavor). And I'll be honest, that element definitely drew me in during the original run. I was a Democrat in the reddest of red counties, and sometimes, it got depressing. So to see a nearly perfect representation of everything *I* believed on TV each week was really wonderful. Now, that's not to say The West Wing is a perfect show-- far from it. In hindsight, Aaron Sorkin has some problems with female characters, as they run to "shrill" or "needlessly flighty" pretty damn quickly. (I feel the same way about Aaron Sorkin as I do about Quentin Tarantino: I might love the art they produce, but every time either man opens his mouth I hate him just a little bit more). And it gets a little preachy and a little glib too.
But damn if it isn't a mighty fine TV show.
Jed Bartlett, the second greatest fictional president.
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| Bill Pullman in Independence Day is #1, with Morgan Freeman in Deep Impact a close #3. In case you were wondering how I rank my fictional presidents. |
Jed Bartlett is sort of the perfect president. He's principled, thoughtful, smart, incredibly progressive (but personally anti-choice, so as to not alienate everyone) and while he has a tendency to be a blowhard, he's got a good sense of humor about it. (The time he called the Butterball hotline is a particular favorite of mine: "If I cook the stuffing inside the turkey, will it kill my guests? I'm not saying that's a dealbreaker.") But man oh man, can Martin Sheen BRING IT when he needs to-- you totally and completely buy him as a spellbinding orator, because he IS. Plus, the First Lady is Perfect Human Stockard Channing, whom I like to imagine actually is Rizzo all grown up and kicking ass. I actually have a hard time reconciling the fact that Martin Sheen is the father of human garbage bag Charlie Sheen, because in my head, Martin Sheen IS President Bartlett. And his daughter is Peggy on Mad Men, not that gross guy from a terrible sitcom.
Sam Seaborn, before he moved to Pawnee, Indiana.
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| How is it possible that Rob Lowe hasn't aged a DAY in about 15 years? |
Sam is a speechwriter for President Bartlett, and originally was intended to be the star of the show. I'm glad they ditched that angle, because he's a lot better as comic relief who's prone to occasional fits of righteous anger instead. Sometimes I'm a little unclear as to why a speechwriter would be involved in say, military decisions, but just roll with it.
C.J. Cregg, Press Secretary and living curse on the men she dates.
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| C.J., let's go get a beer. You seem fun. |
C.J. is a rare example of Sorkin *not* writing a woman who is shrill and/or flighty, although I'm willing to give at least 70% of the credit for that to Allison Janney, who is delightful in every single thing she's ever done. (Remember when she was in Drop Dead Gorgeous? She was hilarious). C.J. is 100% badass through and through, although I wish they didn't keep killing off her boyfriends. Girlfriend's gonna get a complex. (Also, now would be a good time to mention that I haven't seen much beyond season 4, and I don't think I will).
Toby Grumpy Grumperstein.
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| Actual Toby quote. |
Toby is White House Communications Director, which near as I can tell, means he yells at C.J. and Sam a lot. Toby's one of the only people who can call the president out when he's being ridiculous, and he does so with such aplomb and grace* that you can't help but concede that he has a point. He's also a softy at heart, as evidenced by that episode where he arranges a burial service for a homeless vet. I definitely didn't cry at that episode. Nope. No uncontrollable sobbing here.
*By "aplomb and grace" I mean "growling and yelling and generally being a self-righteous dick about things."
Leo McGarry: one time he was a war criminal, but then they dropped it.
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| I saw weird Dick Cheney parallels with him, which is odd because the show started pre-2000. |
Leo is the president's best friend and Chief of Staff. Mostly, he acts like an exasperated dad in a sitcom, if said dad also had access to nukes.
Charlie Young, the king of "What ARE you people doing" looks.
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| Charlie, people keep telling me to watch Psych. No offense, but I probably never will. |
I'm including Charlie in this round up for two reasons: 1) he's pretty damn charming and 2) his presence REALLY makes how white the cast is stand out. Like, I didn't notice it when I was first watching, but now? Dang. Dang. DANG. That's a LOT of white people, you guys.
Josh Lyman, all around badass:
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| Bradley Whitford is a Wisconsonite. I will always love him for that. |
Josh Lyman is one of my favorite fictional characters, ever. I even have a minor crush on Rahm Emanuel (on whom Josh is apparently based) due to the transitive property of fictional crushes. Josh is hilarious and sarcastic and *completely* full of himself, but I can overlook a lot because honestly? You get to be an arrogant asshole when you're that awesome.
Donna Moss, the world's greatest secretary.
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| Well, they certainly nailed the "Minnesotan" aspect of her casting. I went to college with approximately 1,000 women who looked just like her. |
Donna is the audience substitute. She exists to follow Josh around and ask him to explain what "filibuster" and "sequester" mean, and then to ask more questions to show the "common sense American" viewpoint that Sorkin wants to shoot down. I sort of hate it when they make Donna look dumb just for this purpose though, like when she thinks that $150 per week for AIDS medication "isn't off the charts" for someone living in Africa. First of all, that would be a lot of money for ME. (For reference, at one point they say that C.J will be making $600 per week, so Donna can't be making any more than $400 per week. Donna, that's a lot of money for YOU and you WORK IN THE WHITE HOUSE. Aaron Sorkin, I hate you.) Secondly, I get that Donna isn't heavily involved in policy, but she works in the goddamn White House. She's read a fucking newspaper in her life. She knows that people dealing with AIDS in Africa aren't exactly all working white-collar jobs for $30,000 a year. What I'm saying is, I like Donna, and I hate it when they make her deliberately stupid just so Josh can deliver a quip about how "a policeman in Kenya makes $40 per month." There are other ways of making her a believable audience surrogate. Ways that don't insult her intelligence. Also, she's 100% obviously in love with Josh, so clearly I'm going to like her. We've got things in common.
There's a lot of other awesome characters (like Ainsley Hayes, whom I love and think was a lot prettier before she went on CSI Miami and jacked up her face) and the first four seasons are riddled with amazing, jaw dropping episodes. I will never look at a map the same way again, thanks to one episode featuring "cartographers for social equality," and In the Shadow of Two Gunmen (parts I and II) are some of the best hours of TV I've ever seen. It can be a bit preachy, as I think Sorkin really likes to write about people who think they are saving the world. However, in this case that ridiculously self-important tone WORKS, because you want the people who are helping run our country to be self-possessed and believe that what they are doing really is important.*
Verdict: Perfectly Awesome. If you're a liberal. If you're a conservative, it's probably terrible.
*It doesn't work when you're writing about SNL though. I've only seen a few episodes of Studio 60, but MY GOD PEOPLE. You're writing a sketch comedy show, not curing fucking CANCER. It was insufferable. Also: really? GILBERT AND SULLIVAN is your brilliant satire? I'm a certified nerd studying British history, and even I don't find Gilbert and Sullivan to be *that* funny. (However, the West Wing episode where everyone keeps referencing Gilbert and Sullivan? That was funny, because those are the sorts of people who've seen those operettas.) Maybe I should do a whole post about how much I hate Studio 60, since I clearly have a lot of feelings about it.
