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November 30, 2003
TV star wagers on series
By HEATHER SALERNO
THE JOURNAL NEWS
Gambling has busted many a Hollywood star, but poker represents a full house to Joshua Malina. The New Rochelle native says his card-playing brought him a jackpot: He befriended the future "West Wing" creator Aaron Sorkin (who grew up in Scarsdale) at a poker table, leading to his current role on the Emmy-winning drama.
Poker's pulled him through rough spots, too. Not long after moving to L.A. a decade ago, a jobless Malina played for 15 days straight and paid off his credit cards with $12,000 in winnings. (Don't try this at home.)
"Poker has been like the nexus of my entire career," he laughs. "Every strand somehow goes back to a poker game."
Now the game has dealt him another good hand. He's an executive producer of "Celebrity Poker Showdown" (9 p.m. Tuesdays on Bravo), a six-
part reality series in which Ben Affleck, Martin Sheen and 23 other stars face off in a charity tournament.
"The betting can be huge, the action fast and furious," says Malina, 37, using a rare day off from "The West Wing" for a telephone chat. "I think we're going to suck you
into the poker even if you come into it thinking, 'Well, I really just want to see what Ben Affleck is like when he's not playing a role.' " J. Lo's other half helps kick off Tuesday night's premiere, when he'll challenge opponents like "Ocean's 11" star Don Cheadle and David Schwimmer of "Friends" to a game of No Limit Texas Hold 'Em. (With its big pots and quick play, experts call it "the Cadillac of poker.")
The home audience gets the inside scoop in this game, however: Cameras hidden in the poker table let viewers see each player's cards. "Our show," Malina says, "is posing the question: 'They can act, but can they bluff?' "
The winner of each week's game moves on to the Jan. 13 championship round, from which the top dog walks away with $100,000 for a favorite cause.
The series, filmed over one week last month at the Palms Casino Resort in Las Vegas, reveals the stars' personalities through their card-playing approaches. Schwimmer and Tom Green showed up "with serious game faces," says Malina. Comics Mo Gaffney and Nicole Sullivan hired poker coaches. Rookies Shannon Elizabeth ("American Pie") and actress-writer Carrie Fisher welcomed advice from more experienced players.
Malina's "West Wing" co-star Allison Janney never "even attempted to have a poker face," he notes. "But her charm can be disarming as well."
The actor compares the program jokingly to the classic '70s competition "Battle of the Network Stars." "It was fun to see people you saw regularly on TV completely out of context Robert Conrad is running an obstacle course!" he says. "As a kid, that always held a real allure for me, and I think we have a similar feel."
The inspiration for "Showdown" grew out of the weekly game Malina and screenwriter pal Andrew Hill Newman have attended for years at the home of Hank Azaria (best known as the voice of Apu, Moe, Chief Wiggum and others on "The Simpsons").
"Hank's probably the most entertaining person to play poker with, so somewhere simmering in our consciousness was that this would probably be fun to watch," Malina says. "It's one of those rare instances where you have an idea, and you follow through and it works out."
The same could be said for Malina's professional life, which took off after he graduated with a theater degree from Yale and made his acting debut in the 1989 Broadway production of Sorkin's "A Few Good Men."
That led to roles in every one of Sorkin's projects, from the critically acclaimed series "Sports Night" to the films "The American President" and "Malice." He joined "The West Wing" last year after Rob Lowe left and Sorkin created the part of speechwriter Will Bailey for his friend.
Malina acknowledges the deep loss he and the rest of the ensemble felt when Sorkin and his fellow executive producer, Tommy Schlamme, told them they were leaving at the end of last season.
"It was like a bombshell, actually," he says.
Sorkin was infamous for turning scripts in late, sometimes forcing the program to start shooting an episode before he was finished writing it. Although Sorkin had won back-to-back Emmys for best drama, Warner Bros., which produces "The West Wing," reportedly wanted him to run the show more efficiently.
"I think Aaron took a good, long hard think about it and said, 'I don't work this way,' " says Malina. "He didn't deliver things late because he wanted the show to go over budget; that's just how Aaron works. He's a pressure-cooker writer."
Malina admits to some worries that the series might "turn into a soap opera." His fears were unfounded, he says, and he praises the show's current leader, John Wells.
Wells, in fact, is responsible for the latest twist for Malina's character, who in recent episodes took a job outside the West Wing as the newly appointed vice president's top aide.
Malina has settled permanently on the West Coast with his wife, Melissa, and their children, Isabel, 5, and Ari, 18 months. Still, he knows that in his business, nothing is permanent.
"Frankly, my future on the show, your guess is as good as mine," he says. "All I can say is that, as an actor, nothing is ever set in stone. I don't ever say, 'Oh great, I'm going to be on 'West Wing' now for four more years.' All I'm ever looking for is a good storyline, and I feel like I'm getting it."
If not, he can always turn back to the card table to hunt for a job. After all, his poker buddy Affleck isn't exactly an industry lightweight.
"I actually played with Ben earlier this week," says Malina. "I keep referring to him as my new best friend."
Posted by Jo at 09:20 PM
November 28, 2003
The Mild, Mild 'West'
A wonky, watered-down West Wing flounders under a new administration.
by Ken Tucker
Entertainment Weekly
I know Allison Janney has won a couple of Emmy awards, but did The West Wing's executive producer John Wells have to promote her character, press secretary C.J. Cregg, to the new post of Conscience of the Nation? A few weeks ago, C.J. was lecturing John Spencer's chief of staff Leo about the polluting effects of coal ("Clean coal is an industry myth!"); the week before that, C.J. was on Leo's case again when a visiting North Korean pianist signaled a desire to defect to the United States, and the Bartlet administration's reponse was, in effect, "Please, kid, we got enough problems just trying to give Dule Hill a couple of lines every month." Still, C.J. pressed on: "If we don't allow this defection," she said, "if we blithely exploit this young man...then I don't know who we are anymore!"
Remember when C.J. was just the smart-as-a-whip, flirty-but-flinty gal who protected President Bartlet (Martin Sheen) from all of those White House press jackals? Now she gangs up on him when the poor Commander-in-Chief is rattled about the emotional recovery of his recently kidnapped daughter and about his fraying marriage. "I need you back," says the new, pushy C.J. "I need you to lead."
Hey, C.J.--I need you to back off, sister. You're only helping to turn The Wing--which had already become, during creator Aaron Sorkin's burn-the-bridges final season, a chilly haven for chatty underlings debating policy--into a warm, touchy-feely show about how important it is that everyone on the staff have a say in that policy. Sorkin's departure is noticeable in small but significant ways. For example, he certainly would have had C.J. use (as she did on the Nov. 5 episode, teleplay credited to Friends vet Alexa Junge) the word schadenfreude in casual conversation with Janel Moloney's Donna; he would not, however, have had Donna look at her blankly and then have C.J. define the word for her and, by extension, the viewing audience. Say what you will about Sorkin as a control-freak dramaturge who often wrote single-note plays instead of multivoiced television scripts, but at least he didn't condescend to his audience.
Wells and Co. (he's enlisted China Beach's John Sacret Young and rehired Lawrence O'Donnell as "consulting producers") have done an odd thing: They've made the show dumber yet more obscure; more soapy yet more policy-wonky. It's impossible to believe that Bradley Whitford's Josh, under fire for pushing a key Democrat (Tom Skerritt) over to the Republican Party, would demonstrate his unsinkable resolve by getting out of a car and yelling at the Capitol building "Hey, you want a piece of me! I'm standin' right here--come on!" You're not going to win back former fans of this show by forcing a good guy like Whitford to say lines that sound recycled from Dustin Hoffman in Midnight Cowboy (Ratso Rizzo to taxicab: "Hey, I'm walking here!"). It's moments like this that make me wonder whether Sorkin and Rob Lowe, currently licking his wounds from The Lyon's Den, sit around on Wednesday nights at 9 p.m., eating popcorn in front of the TV and chortling, "Can you believe they had Leo say 'The President just went AWOL'? Spencer must be having a cow at the table reads!"
Really, if it weren't for the proffessionalism of the cast, you'd think The West Wing had turned into its own Saturday Night Live parody. Sorkin's once-famous "walk-and-talk" dialogue exchanges are now meta commentaries on the show itself.
Josh: "You're forgetting the beauty of the federal budget process."
Donna: "What's that?"
Josh: "No one understands it!"
I suppose Wells wants us to understand everything, so he has his White House reflect isssues that viewers can identify with more readily. Thus the staff whines righteously about the big, bad Republicans whittling away at college-tuition aid and funding for violence against women--this ain't, praise the Lord, that Qumar quagmire Sorkin led us into. A year ago, I wrote in a piece for these pages that The West Wing was very much the vision of one man, and at that point Sorkin's vision had become blurred. Now, under the clear-eyed sight of Wells, Wing is a drama that seems hashed out by committee. At one point this season, Richard Schiff's Toby yearns for the Democratic goals of old. "Where's our Greaet Society?" he yelps. "Where's our New Frontier?" Indeed: Where is The West Wing's new focus? If it's C.J.'s recent, unwarranted boldness, I say there's such a thing as being too small-d democrat. C
Posted by Jo at 03:13 PM
November 20, 2003
Rick Kushman: 'West' goes south
Without Aaron Sorkin, 'The West Wing' has lost its soul and intelligence
By Rick Kushman
Sacramento Bee
This one is painful. It's the column I hoped not to write. But face it, "The West Wing," the four-time Emmy winner, that once-lyrically written masterpiece of lofty romanticism, is, officially, awful.
Where there were layered, charismatic characters, we've now got a pack of whiners.
Where there were noble intentions and an ode to public service, there are now fools, bullies and selfish brats.
Where the plots were driven by bright debate and difficult moral complexities, now they use emotional manipulation and cliffhangers.
"The West Wing" lost its creators at the end of last season -- writer Aaron Sorkin and director Thomas Schlamme, though Schlamme remains a consultant on the show -- but it still has that remarkable cast, and it has some huge fans out there.
Ratings are up this season -- probably because fans came back to check out the changes, but they're dropping again -- and even a few critics have praised the show. They're wrong, but you never know with critics.
But, be honest, this is not the show it was. Not close. There's nothing amazing, no one inspiring, no moments of grandness or majesty.
In its best seasons, "The West Wing" was nearly a national hour of healing. It offered the argument, with power and grace, that public service matters, and it created the hopeful fantasy that the honesty, intelligence and civic concern of the people in it are unassailable.
Now? It's just another TV show, a show that relies on formula and cheap emotion, on TV conventions that ring as familiar as they do false.
But it didn't have to be this way.
Of course, things were going to change. No one writes kinetic dialogue like Sorkin. Few people can hustle characters through a building and make conversation and debate sing with power, vigor and poetry like he can. All of that was special, but it was frosting.
The core of this series has always been those stellar, deftly drawn characters. They were dazzling in their sense of purpose and loyalty, they were honest and caring, and so astoundingly smart that they raised our IQ just watching them.
So what have the new producers done? They tried to keep the hustles through the building -- sounding mighty lame in the process -- and took all the characters and gutted them. Took out their souls and replaced them with spiritless husks, one each from the categories in TV drama for dummies.
There is no one to like anymore. No one with a sense of dignity or purpose. Instead, everybody's angry, everyone's in emotional peril. Everyone is lost and flailing.
A few weeks back, C.J. Cregg (Allison Janney) wept to the president, "We need you to lead." She wept at him.
And that was Josiah Bartlet (Martin Sheen), a president who, until this season, never needed to be told his duty, a man who understood the stature and dignity on the office of president of the United States.
He was a smart, forceful, articulate leader, a Nobel Prize-winning economist with a world-class intellect and, above all, a good man. But that guy is gone. In his place is a charmless, sometimes doddering wimp who seems to have nothing to do.
They've all changed. Noble war horse Leo McGarry (John Spencer) is now dismissive and ticked-off; C.J. is the house scold; Toby Ziegler (Richard Schiff) went from biting idealist to selfish crank; Will Bailey (Joshua Malina) went to work for the vice president and functions as a smart-mouthed jerk; and Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford), the too-cocky-but-earnest political whiz, is now so incompetent he stopped his taxi to get out and scream gibberish at the Capitol building. "You want a piece of me?" he yelled. "You want a piece of me?" By now, who would?
This is not about a change in politics -- this version has no politics -- it's about an excessive drop in wits. The Republican opposition has been gutted, too. Often, they were smarter than the West Wing staff; always, they cared as much about their country, although now and then someone had to be the bad guy.
The Republicans working for Bartlet -- first Ainsley Hayes (Emily Procter), then Joe Quincy (Matthew Perry) -- were patriotic and dedicated and, as often as not, won their arguments.
But now, the Senate majority leader is a collegial, aimless goof, and the speaker of the House is an ambitious, mean-spirited weasel. Meanwhile, not one word of genuine policy debate has been uttered all season.
Once, you watched "The West Wing" and thought, "Wow." Now you watch and think, "They wouldn't do that; that's stupid; what is this, 'ER'?"
The answer is, sadly, yes. What we've got is bad "ER," which, these days, is a couple of layers of bad. That comes as no surprise, because both shows are run by executive producer John Wells.
We don't want to beat up on Wells, we really don't. He inherited a very tough spot following in Sorkin's writing footsteps while trying to revive ratings. And last season, "The West Wing" certainly had its rough patches and odd twists that needed some work.
But, just as in "ER," Wells and his staff seem to have mistaken pathetic for pathos and meanness for natural conflict.
It's also as if Wells and these writers never watched the show -- though Wells has been an executive producer from the start and it was his production company that housed the series.
These days, no one trusts Josh because, I guess, they need the conflict. Not so long ago, Leo and the president had an exchange, when Leo said, "What, you want to start not trusting Josh?" as if that idea was impossible.
The old "West Wing" was staffed with perceptive, engaged professionals, from the clerks to the opposition to the FBI agents. Now, everyone is bitter or selfish, and no one acts consistently or, really, with any discernible motivation except to set up the next confrontation.
Also missing are the light moments woven through even the darkest episodes, the debates over the shape of maps, falling satellites or the need for pennies (most, it turns out, end up in jars).
There was, for instance, the time the president called the Butterball turkey hotline. "If I cook the stuffing inside the turkey," he asked, "is there a chance I could kill my guests? I'm not saying that's necessarily a deal breaker."
Now there is an unrelenting grimness to the Bartlet White House and the entire show. Even the humor, such as C.J.'s allegedly clever cracks to the press, is grim.
Sorkin called "The West Wing" an old-fashioned Western. "It's about romanticism, it's about idealism," he said. "It's about being clear that our guys wear the white hats, and when there's a showdown, they'll come through."
Now, no one wears white hats and no one comes through. Last week, there were two great chances to capture the old spirit -- when the chief justice (Milo O'Shea) stepped into the Oval Office, and when the president met the group haggling over the budget. Both came up tired and labored.
The chief justice, instead of giving a heroic speech about ideals, democracy and the law, whimpered about the good old days. Then Bartlet and the House speaker, instead of engaging in an ennobling argument for their beliefs, got malicious and petty as they let the federal government shut down. "We had a deal," Bartlet said.
All of that was so obviously constructed to get to a fight and so NBC could promote it as "the decision that stops everything." Now, "The West Wing" gets the same promotions as "ER" and every by-the-numbers series on TV, always something like "the most dramatic episode ever." What's next, helicopters falling from the sky?
The old Bartlet would have hated this new show. He was a man who quoted Churchill and Roosevelt, "serious men using big words for big purpose," as he said.
This "West Wing" seems afraid of big words and big purpose, afraid to show brains or nuance the way hack politicians are afraid to show what they think.
That kind of behavior, as Bartlet said once, "isn't worthy of a great nation," and this season's dumbed-down, soaped-up "The West Wing" isn't worthy of a once-great show.
Posted by Jo at 04:20 PM
November 15, 2003
Top Drama 'West Wing' Flies to DVD
By Martie Zad
Washington Post
Television's thought-provoking program about Oval Office business, "The West Wing," an Emmy winner for outstanding drama series for all four of its seasons on the air, comes to DVD on Tuesday.
Warner Home Video is offering "The West Wing: The Complete First Season," a four-disc set of all 22 episodes of the 1999-2000 season at $59.98.
The series depicts the stressful activities of U.S. President Josiah "Jed" Bartlet played by Martin Sheen. Dulι Hill is his aide; Allison Janney, press secretary; Moira Kelly, a media consultant; Rob Lowe, deputy communications director; Richard Schiff, director of communications; John Spencer, chief of staff; and Bradley Whitford, deputy chief of staff. Stockard Channing plays the first lady.
Bonus material integrated into the DVD set includes commentaries from series creator Aaron Sorkin and director Thomas Schlamme, cast and crew interviews, behind-the-scenes footage including "Capital Beat" and "Sheet Music," deleted scenes, and a collection of outtakes and bloopers titled "Gag Order."
The smash first season garnered 18 Emmy nomination, winning nine. In all, the series has been nominated for 72 Emmys and has won 24.
In 2001 it won a Golden Globe Award for best TV series{ndash}drama. Sheen also won a Golden Globe for best performance by an actor in a TV series -- drama.
Posted by Jo at 09:35 AM
Hollywood Goes to Washington, Locals Aim to Cash In
By Christina Ling
The Boston Globe
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Hollywood on the Potomac?
Washington has found a new way to cash in on rising interest in the capital as a backdrop for feature movies and television shows such as NBC's "West Wing" and HBO's "K Street."
Local residents eager to get their street or business into the next blockbuster or "West Wing" episode can now register in a new Celluloid City Directory -- a database of potential film locations set up by the city authorities.
The city will use it to show off neighborhoods less well known than areas around the White House and the Capitol, officials said on Friday.
"We thought this would be a really fun and easy way to develop a database because everyone wants to see themselves in pictures and there are some great architectural icons in this city," Chris Bender, spokesman for the city's economic development office, told Reuters.
The database would also allow city officials to steer production crews pressed for time to areas off the beaten path rather than the familiar monuments where they would otherwise be likely to concentrate filming.
While many media-savvy cities across the United States already have similar databases for film makers, officials say the project is a sign of Washington's progress toward respectability after years of drug-fueled violence and middle-class flight.
The political drama "K Street" already features some of the city's classiest restaurants, hotels and hair salons by name, in addition to personalities such as senators and lobbyists playing themselves in fictionalized scripts.
It has also raised the temperature of resident female fans of actor George Clooney, one of the show's executive producers, who now live in constant hopes of bumping into him at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel gym where he works out or elsewhere around town.
"National Treasure" starring Nicolas Cage and opening later this month will feature scenes shot in the National Archives and Library of Congress, said Crystal Palmer, head of the city's Office of Motion Picture and Television Development.
"That's the first time we've had a project of that size shoot in the city," added Palmer.
But officials hope crews will venture even deeper into "hometown" Washington when filming begins on projects they say are scheduled for 2004, including "The Candidate 2," a new "Wonder Woman" and an adaptation of Tom Clancy's "Red Rabbit."
Washington filming plans for a sequel to the movie "XXX," with rapper Ice Cube, are particularly promising. "That will go not just to postcard Washington but get us into the outskirts that people may not know about," said Palmer.
Posted by Jo at 09:31 AM
November 12, 2003
Cromwell Acts Presidential on 'The West Wing'
Zap2it.com
LOS ANGELES (Zap2it.com) - James Cromwell will bring his considerable presence to the 100th episode of "The West Wing."
The Oscar and three-time Emmy nominee has signed on to appear in the 100th episode of NBC's White House drama, according to The Hollywood Reporter. He'll play a former president, the last Democrat to hold the office before Jed Bartlet (Martin Sheen).
The role will be at least the third time the 6-foot-4 Cromwell has played a president, following turns as Lyndon Johnson in FX's movie "RFK" and the fictional President Fowler in the feature "The Sum of All Fears." He also played a recently ousted U.S. senator in the short-lived CBS drama "Citizen Baines," which was executive produced by "West Wing" head man John Wells.
Wells and Cromwell also worked together on "ER," where Cromwell earned one of his Emmy nominations for a guest-starring arc in 2001. The others came for guest work on HBO's "Six Feet Under" and for his portrayal of newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst in the 1999 HBO movie "RKO 281."
Cromwell's other credits include "Babe" -- for which he earned his Oscar nod -- "L.A. Confidential" and "The Green Mile." He'll be seen in coming months in HBO's "Angels in America" and the TNT adaptation of Stephen King's "Salem's Lot."
The 100th episode of "The West Wing" will air later this season. A date hasn't been set.
Posted by Jo at 06:47 PM
Say farewell to the last of the auteurs
by Tim Goodman
San Francisco Chronicle
When CBS canceled "The Brotherhood of Poland, N.H.," something strange happened. It very quietly signaled the end of the powerhouse writer- producer on television. It was the day the auteur died.
The specific auteur here is David E. Kelley, of course, the last real golden boy of network television. And while Kelley still has "Boston Public'' and "The Practice" on the air, both are barely there and neither is very good.
The failure of "Brotherhood" was certainly not his first (remember "Girls Club" and "Snoops"), but it's still odd to see something of his tossed onto the junk heap so readily. Gone, apparently, are the days when a network stuck with you because you could do no wrong (and if you were doing wrong, patience would certainly make it right). But now CBS doesn't need Kelley, for two very important reasons. One - and this is just a fortuitous big-picture reason -- the network is hitting on all cylinders and isn't in need of keeping a big name in the fold for status reasons. And two -- pay attention here -- CBS already has its own king, and that man is V, producer extraordinaire.
The difference is that Bruckheimer creates hits like a business. He doesn't write them with all the passion in his lithe little frame. He manufactures. He's already given CBS both "CSI" and "CSI: Miami,'' plus "Without a Trace" and "The Amazing Race." Those are all hits. Kelley can't make a hit out of a show about three 40-year-old, fat, unattractive brothers? Fine. Gone. What's Jerry got for us?
Well, as it turns out, Bruckheimer's got a lot. Though his much-hyped Fox drama, "Skin," was just killed off, he's got a midseason series, "Fearless," heading to the WB, and surely more models coming out of the factory any day now.
As for Kelley, you have to wonder whether he'll command the same respect for the next project he unveils. "Boston Public" and "The Practice" both have anemic ratings, and both are long past their sell-by date when it comes to plausibility and creativity. You could argue that Kelley was at his best with "Ally McBeal," which neatly fused his two favorite themes -- law and personal whimsy.
And yet, "The Brotherhood of Poland, N.H." is precisely the reason a network should invest in an auteur. Kelley left the legal realm and got into relationships, leaving in just enough personal quirks to make it different (and not so many as to overindulge that vice, which usually devours his shows whole after three seasons). "Brotherhood" was, from the premise on down, meant to reflect a sense of American normalcy. Guys in their 40s, troubled, in need of a very strict stomach-crunch regiment, none of them looking anything like George Clooney. They were interesting people and their wives even more so. There was a small town -- and small towns are a dangerously eccentric thing on American television, but this small town, while not fully formed, was shaping up to be something fascinating and useful to the story without giving it carte blanche to go completely insane with quirk.
All the elements were in line. The viewers, however, were not. They never showed up. But Wednesdays at 10 p.m. is a killing field, as all comers get mowed down by "Law & Order," which, conveniently enough to this argument, represents the business end of the Hollywood deal. As Kelley is an auteur, Dick Wolf is a genius businessman. He has taken his franchise and expanded it to "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" and "Law & Order: Criminal Intent," and there's another one in the works. He has also produced "Arrest & Trial" and "Crime & Punishment" -- if you're sensing a theme, move to the head of the class.
Television at this moment -- and these things are always cyclical in nature, so several seasons from now we may have another David Kelley cranking them out in fine style -- is very much in the hands of producers who build franchises, like Wolf and Bruckheimer (and whole groups that crank out useless reality programs), instead of visionary writers.
Nothing dramatizes this as keenly on the current schedule than the fall of Aaron Sorkin. Now, whether unable to or simply uninterested in the idea, Sorkin couldn't simultaneously float his two magnificent series, "Sports Night" and "The West Wing." But he was the auteur of record with "The West Wing" as Kelley hit a particularly bad patch of dumb writing and implausible scenarios in his series, dropping him from favor. Sorkin wrote every episode of "The West Wing," and it showed. Few series were so immediately recognizable as being from someone in particular.
Only NBC couldn't see that. By parting ways with Sorkin -- amicable or not; let someone else apportion the blame -- the network placed its bets with the series' other executive producer, John Wells. Because of Sorkin's inability to deliver scripts in a monetarily timely manner, NBC essentially opted for the head, not the heart, of the operation.
The result of this Wells-instead-of-Sorkin swap is that one of network television's most acclaimed series has been ruined. "The West Wing" now is not "The West Wing" that Sorkin created and nurtured. It's gutless and dumb, overly dramatic and increasingly false at every turn. Two weeks ago, after only chipping away -- instead of using a wrecking ball -- at the essence of the show, "The West Wing" flipped completely and utterly into a series living an out-of-body experience. Characters said things and reacted in ways that they normally wouldn't. Anger and meanness showed up for dramatic tension because Wells, studied in the ways of pleasing the networks, and the masses, understood all too well that his formula was working.
And it is. Ratings are up. Perhaps that's due to a new audience coming in and "West Wing" loyalists sticking with the series even though it resembles what Sorkin created in name only. The cast members that viewers love so much are now just Wellsian pod people. At some point, this will be too much to bear for discerning viewers, and some of them will leave.
The hollowing out of "The West Wing" should be one of the new television season's best story lines. It probably won't be labeled a crime as long as the Nielsens stay positive. But the damage is done. And Wells, who gave the world "ER," a superb series that stopped, many seasons ago, being at all necessary, is the prime suspect. But in the halls of NBC he's a hero.
There's your difference. Sorkin was a great writer. Wells is a really good producer. He launched "ER," of course, but also put his fingerprints on film, producing "Party Monster," "White Oleander," "Far From Heaven" and "One Hour Photo." In television, as a writer, there's less to impress: "Third Watch, " "Presidio Med," "Citizen Baines," "Trinity."
The only non-formulaic show in the bunch is "The West Wing." That says a lot.
Let's remember that in film, the auteur is the director. In television, it's the writer. In neither medium is it the producer, executive or otherwise.
Maybe there's some shift in the Hollywood zeitgeist, away from writers and to powerful, hitmaking producers. Maybe there's less coddling involved.
It was only recently that a story in Variety, reduced to a brief on the entertainment wires, noted that HBO had passed on Steven Bochco's latest TV series (after touting its vision).
Steven Bochco. It's easy to forget the old auteurs, is it not? Yes, he created the iconic "NYPD Blue.'' But his resume is littered with real vision, of a writerly identity: "L.A. Law," "Hill Street Blues," "Murder One." Hell, toss in "Cop Rock." At least he was trying. He even turned "Doogie Howser, M.D. " into a hit. And yes, he wrote a bunch of "Colombo" episodes. There's a real pedigree.
And now? Fox had already passed on his futuristic "NYPD 2069," and now the HBO snub. Having not seen a script for either, it's impossible to tell if Bochco has lost it completely or if the magic just hasn't happened for him in TV. This much is true -- he dropped out to write a novel. About Hollywood. It was generally not well received.
But does a Bochco creative blunder or the sinking of a Kelley series mean any more than Dick Wolf's "L.A. Dragnet" getting canceled by ABC or Bruckheimer's "Skin" getting bounced early off the Fox schedule?
As a matter of fact, yes. Because when auteurs fail, it's a failure of imagination, of talent, of vision. It's like an NFL receiver who's lost a step,
or an aging slugger in baseball who can no longer hit the curve ball. Once the perception of having lost it creeps into the minds of the people who matter, the game's almost over.
People see art and creativity as fleeting. That stuff Bruckheimer does? That manufacturing and commerce? That can always be fixed.
Posted by Jo at 09:12 AM
November 11, 2003
Matthew Perry Returns to 'West Wing'
By LYNN ELBER
Associated Press
LOS ANGELES - Ten things we like about "The West Wing (news - web sites)" although series creator Aaron Sorkin has left the White House building:
1. It still has a sense of humor. The gifted Sorkin is gone but his witty spirit lingers: "Do people keep cliche thesaureses around for times like this?" one frustrated character asked after a deluge of sympathy.
2. It still has a sense of history. It weaves details of America's government and politics into stories without breaking the dramatic thread. Want to learn how a president surrenders power? This is the place.
3. It's less preachy than before. The Bartlet administration remains liberal and makes no bones about its position on hot-button issues such as gun control, but the soapbox isn't pulled out as often.
4. It cast Gary Cole (news) as the new vice president (the old one was driven out by scandal) and looks to be making the most of his ability to play charming but morally suspect types.
5. It has more romance, but not too much. Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford (news)) and a colleague (Mary-Louise Parker (news)) shared a passionate kiss in his West Wing office but ended it there. A little soap opera, like a little soapbox, goes a long way in a fine drama.
6. It's still cinematic. Thomas Schlamme, who was the principal director and who left with Sorkin, imparted a style of urgent energy that remains. On the flip side and also unchanged: poignant shots of characters framed by White House windows (OK, a studio set), symbolic glimpses of power and responsibility.
7. It let first lady Abigail Bartlet (Stockard Channing (news)) really stand up to her husband. He told her he wouldn't seek a second term because of health problems, then did. He ordered an assassination that endangered their family. No wonder she voted to move out.
8. Its female characters remain as dedicated and tough as the men. What president, or fella for that matter, wouldn't want a C.J. Cregg (Allison Janney (news)) or Donna Moss (Janel Moloney (news)) in their corner?
9. It's more linear. Sorkin had a clever way of backing into issues that made the action seem casually authentic but rendered it, at times, tough to follow. The loss of a bit of reality for clarity is fine.
10. It's very good to its guests. John Goodman (news) as the acting president and William Devane (news) as a vice presidential contender were swell in meaty roles. So was Matthew Perry (news) of NBC's "Friends," who guest-starred last season and who's back again and delighted to be.
"I actually sought out the job on `The West Wing' because I was such a fan of the show," Perry said. "Actors look for good writing ... and 'West Wing' in my opinion is the best writing in dramatic television."
Perry, an Emmy nominee for his work last season on the drama, plays Joe Quincy, a Republican attorney working as an associate counsel to the Democratic Bartlet administration.
In Wednesday's episode (9 p.m. EST, NBC), the White House attempts to trade on Quincy's close ties to the U.S. Supreme Court (news - web sites) chief justice, played by Milo O'Shea (news).
The justice's health has raised doubts about his ability to continue serving but, as a lifetime appointee, he is untouchable. That's where Perry's character comes in.
"The powers that be at the White House see an opportunity to put their own chief justice on the bench, but they have to be very delicate about it," said Perry.
It's an episode not just about power but about the longtime relationship between the chief justice and Perry's character.
Perry, who worked on the drama in the old and new regimes (John Wells, an original executive producer with Sorkin and Schlamme, is running the show now) feels it hasn't lost a step.
The series suffered a drop in viewership and critical esteem last year but still managed to claim its fourth consecutive best-drama Emmy. Ratings are moving up: It's averaging 14.7 million viewers for the season so far and is tied for 12th place among all prime-time shows, compared to its 13.5 million average last season and No. 24 ranking.
"I think `West Wing' is as good as it was ... which is an amazing accomplishment given the genius of Aaron Sorkin," Perry said. "I would say it's slightly more of a team effort over there."
Sorkin's word was law and his words themselves, crafted with rhythmic grace, were never changed. But the writers in charge now are talented and the cast consistently impressive, said Perry.
He worked most closely this time with Richard Schiff (news), who plays communications director Toby Ziegler.
"He's a talented and nice man, and he made it fun. Maybe Richard Schiff and I will go on the road together and do a little vaudeville or something," he said, jokingly.
Perry, of course, has to play out his obligation to "Friends," which is filming its 10th and final season. He looks at the two NBC shows as bookends, with one the best-written comedy and the other the best among dramas.
"The West Wing" is a series "that makes you think and entertains you simultaneously," he said. "What's better than that?"
Posted by Jo at 03:54 PM
November 07, 2003
TV or not TV? That is the question
A television series to rival Shakespeare? Why not, asks Thornton McCamish, who believes programs at their best should be considered art.
by Thornton McCamish
The Age
Late one winter Tuesday night I was slumped in front of the tube with my baby son watching The West Wing. The president's grumpy speechwriter, Toby, was trying to draft the president's inauguration speech and it wasn't going well. Miserable, frustrated, he scrunches up another page of false starts and throws it away, missing the bin. He always misses the bin.
The scene is just a quiet aside in an otherwise busy storyline, but we were gripped. We care about Toby. We know about his gummed-up emotions; we've seen his cynicism and hopefulness trying to get the better of one another for a hundred episodes.
I was suddenly struck by what an extraordinary work of narrative art The West Wing is. All of the show's characters are this conflicted and interesting. The storylines are compelling; the dialogue is dense and sharp.
Inside the TV industry Aaron Sorkin, the show's creator-producer, is considered a genius. Why is it that for most of us outside it he is just some guy who writes TV?
Richard Schiff, the actor who plays Toby on The West Wing , once compared the meter and "music" of Sorkin's teleplays with Shakespeare, which might be pushing it a bit. But he is right about this: "The thing about West Wing is, it's incredibly sophisticated storytelling. A lot of times, Aaron doesn't even know how layered his material is, because when you point something out, he'll go, 'Oh wow, I didn't even think of that.' It's really amazing craftsmanship."
We are living in a golden age of storytelling and we don't realise it because most of the greatest stories are being told on television. The West Wing isn't the only show of this quality around. During the ad breaks we flicked over to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which, with The Sopranos , is probably the most celebrated TV series of the past decade.
My baby and I were just passing time between wrestles with the milk bottle, yet here were two brilliant shows playing in one cobwebby corner of the week's TV schedule. In terms of their ability to move and disturb us, to show us the tragi-comic business of living, these shows compare with our best novels, plays and films. And somehow we have not really noticed.
This is not a view you hear much. "Greatness is not a category that has traditionally been used in thinking about television programming," observes Alan McKee in his book, Australian Television: A Genealogy of Great Moments . "Other media (books, painting, even film) have established commonsensical procedures for deciding on the greatness of individual texts - the concepts of canon and of cultural heritage - but television has rarely been thought of in this way."
He's right. People pride themselves on being well-read, but not "well-watched". Film connoisseurs are cineastes. TV lovers are addicts.
Why won't we even debate TV series as art? Partly it's the company they keep. A lot of TV is very bad, as I was reminded when West Wing and Buffy went off air and I was left face to face with Temptation Island . I thought I was hallucinating. Being stuck in front of TV this bad can feel, as Clive James once put it, like "mental suicide".
But the main reason these shows don't qualify as enduring artworks is that TV doesn't fit our idea of how great art is made. It seems instinctively wrong that art could be produced in precise timeslots, crunched out at high speed, written by 10 different people and gussied up with effects and slick editing.
When we think of creative genius, we still tend to fall back on the Romantic image of the artist. Artists are supposed to be outsiders, a bit odd-ball, preferably poor, labouring in a leaky garret with only their demons for company.
TV is not like this. For a sense of just how unartistic TV production is, read Conversations with My Agent, Rob Long's hilarious account of his scriptwriting career in Los Angeles. When his co-writing gig on Cheers ends, Long finds himself in a world of long, bitter lunches, paranoia and toadying yes-men who are really saying no. "The dirty little secret of the entertainment industry," he writes, "is that everyone in it is a salesman."
TV is, after all, a business. Right now, at the start of the fall (autumn) season on US television, some 25 new dramas and sitcoms are trying to elbow into the evenings of America's lounge rooms. Many sound trite and overfamiliar; most are doomed to early cancellation. How can the ones that make it in such a crass business be anything but craven, knee-licking entertainment?
Well, partly because TV is a business and the cash flow pays for a lot of resources; like lots of well-paid writers. Forget about the lonely poet in her garret. Most TV series are produced by staffs of crack writers working closely together on stories and rewrites.
This is especially the case in sitcoms. Every week, the nine writers on Will & Grace break into two groups to nut out the two story threads that will be pleated together into one episode. On Roseanne , writer turnover was notorious. Hacks were discarded like the star's ciggie butts after only a few stressful weeks of work.
On drama series, too, scripts are submitted to intense workshopping. On Buffy, stories were worked out by the writing group, then one or two people wrote up a draft. But of that draft, says Marti Noxon, a supervising producer, "only about 70 per cent" remained after comic lines had been pitched in by the writing room and the whole thing had been scoured for flaws by Joss Whedon, Buffy's head honcho. Few novelists or playwrights would tolerate that kind of interference.
It may look more like a frenzied version of Santa's workshop than a noble garret, but it can really work. At a time when literary fiction is becoming increasingly obsessed with voice and style, some TV is pushing storytelling to a high art.
"The best writing, consistently, week to week, seems to be on television," says Rob Osborn, a writer on The West Wing. "You can isolate a half-a-dozen great shows where, on a weekly basis, they're turning out better dialogue and character arcs than (film) features that have been in development for two years."
Like, say, The Sopranos, which The New York Times described as "episode by episode as good or better than any Hollywood movie to be released in ages".
The essence of writing TV series, the authors of Successful Television Writing tell us, is understanding a central contradiction: "It has to be the same show each week and yet, at the same time, it has to be new, fresh and different."
The best TV takes this dictum as far as it can go, twisting the series formula into new idioms of storytelling, as in the Buffy episodes "Hush" and "Once More with Feeling". The first plays out mostly in silence after the characters' voices are stolen; the second, told entirely in song, is a kind of high-school Sondheim, with cheesy gags and arias sung - movingly - by arch demons.
Great TV shows are not cramped by their soapy, episodic form; they revel in it. For one thing, the industrial speed at which series are produced means they can reflect modern life back at us through a mirror of characters and situations we already know. The West Wing episode "Isaac and Ishmael", written in response to September 11, was aired just three weeks after the terrorist attacks.
More importantly, the ongoing nature of a TV series allows for slow-burning ideas and characters and themes to emerge over time. It takes time to build a milieu as richly complex as the "Buffyverse". But the results can be profound.
When Buffy is brought back to life by her posse of pals at the beginning of her last series, she is cold and remote. Not because she has recently been dead, but because she has glimpsed the afterlife and it looked good. Part of her hates her friends for bringing her back, back to them and their difficult world of evil and pyjama parties.
She can't tell them how she feels. But we know. Her unbearable sadness is deepened for us by the accumulated weight of the relationships that have evolved over a hundred episodes.
Does it matter anyway if TV fiction is ignored by history? For the people who really savour them, TV series are not about greatness. They're about comfort, habit, diversion. It's entertainment. Fans don't need to be told what is good, because they already know what they like.
It matters because our dismissive attitude to quality TV reflects a wider pessimism about our culture. TV is the dominant storytelling medium of our age. Ignoring its achievements means signing on to the widespread view that modern art - everything from literature to drama, visual art, architecture - is somehow in entropic decline, getting thinner, more tricky, more PR-driven.
The trouble with TV is that it brings together two things widely suspected of causing this decline: technology and mass audiences.
There is a weird prejudice about the impact of technology across all areas of creativity. Ten years ago I sat with my tutor in her small office listening to her sigh over a draft of my master's thesis. My problem, she said, was the same problem all students of my generation had: the computer. Word processors had ruined students' ability to think in straight, logical lines, she said. When you have only a typewriter and a bottle of white-out, you tend to think more carefully about the next sentence.
I remembered this during a visit to London later that year. Of all the marvels contained within the British Museum, the one that astonished me most was the original manuscript of Jane Eyre, a small notebook in a drop-lit glass case, opened at two pages of neat, sloping cursive. There were, I noted incredulously, just one or two crossings-out per page, like discreet burps.
Two things struck me. The first was the alarmingly wide gap in achievement separating my thesis and Jane Eyre .
The other was more heretical. Maybe Jane Eyre would have been even better if Charlotte Bronte hadn't been stuck with pen and ink. With a word processor she would have been able to explore possibilities, take risks and edit without endless rewrites. Surely it could only have been better?
We will never know. Maybe a 21st-century Bronte would have wasted weeks playing Freecell on her computer or obsessively reformatting her chapter headings. But maybe she would have tossed in the novels and written TV instead, unable, like many talented young writers, to resist a medium with such a vast reach.
Our real gripe with TV is that it is popular. Like Elizabethan theatre, or Dickens's serialised novels, TV shows live or die at the mercy of the punters. If the public doesn't like it, it goes. To accept that TV is where some of the best stories are being told is to accept that millions of square-eyed schmos in their reclining chairs know great art when they see it and choose to watch it.
In his essay What Is a Classic? novelist J. M. Coetzee invokes Polish poet Zbigniew Herbert's view that great artworks are those that survive an ongoing struggle against the forces of barbarism, against ignorance, amnesia and bad art. A classic is something that survives "because generations of people cannot afford to let go of it and therefore hold on to it at all costs".
It's too early to say whether West Wing, Grass Roots or South Park will endure in this way, though there are signs that a critical apparatus is creaking into gear. Buffy has already spawned at least a dozen book-length studies. Now that entire TV series are available on DVD, academics can settle into their squeaky chairs with the remote control and pass their verdicts for posterity.
For now, let's just give Buffy due credit. Late on Tuesday nights, Buffy fought the forces of barbarism. With a smart mouth and wooden stakes, she triumphed over the ghouls of cliche and defeatism. Usually just in time to go shopping.
Posted by Jo at 04:41 PM
November 05, 2003
Extreme Makeovers
A new cast, a new voice, a new seriousness. Three established shows are undergoing radical surgery
By JAMES PONIEWOZIK
Time
Monday, Nov. 03, 2003
When times are good, life is good for the shoe salesman. When times are bad, life is good for the shoe repairman. In the network-TV business, times are not so good. Its biggest hits are aging and atrophying, with no breakout smash among the fall's new shows. So the networks have hung on to several high-profile series, each with a potentially fatal flaw, to see if they can buff them up and get a few more seasons' use out of them.
Long-running series always evolve, of course: Law & Order may soon have gone through more generations of actors than Cats. But rarely are TV shows remade as fundamentally as 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter, The Practice and The West Wing have been, let alone all in one season. The most drastic retooling starts this week with the first episode of 8 Simple Rules (ABC, Tuesdays, 8 p.m. E.T.) since the death of star John Ritter in September. Sitcoms have lost stars before (recently, an ailing Michael J. Fox on Spin City), but 8 Simple Rules is a special case a light comedy, with Ritter as suburban dad Paul Hennessy, that suddenly has no dad and little to laugh about.
But it's also one of the few modest hits on a network in a ratings slump. After some deep thought and a Diane Sawyer-hosted Ritter tribute that won the nightly ratings ABC decided to carry on, with Ritter's character dying and James Garner and Suzanne Pleshette guest-starring as the grandparents. "Ultimately," says ABC entertainment chairman Lloyd Braun, "we felt there were still great stories to tell." Sure: M*A*S*H told moving, even funny stories about death. But 8 Simple Rules was no M*A*S*H. It was an innocuous family show based on you're-not-going-out-of-the-house-dressed-like-that jokes and sentimental, pat endings. ABC did not preview new episodes for critics, but 8 Simple Rules will have to become a far better show than it was.
Rules' producers can take inspiration from The Practice (ABC, Sundays, 10 p.m. E.T.). Last spring, with the legal drama once a top-20 hit bleeding viewers, writer-producer David E. Kelley fired four of its stars Dylan McDermott, Kelli Williams, Lara Flynn Boyle and Lisa Gay Hamilton (who were negotiating raises) and started afresh. Kelley blames himself for the decline; over seven seasons, the show was mired in melodrama. "It was difficult to juxtapose a personal story line and explore relationships," he says, "while trying to show a murder and the search for a missing head."
The new cast is headed by James Spader as defense lawyer Alan Shore, an ethically challenged former embezzler who uses his powers of sleaze to help his colleagues, his clients and his self-interest. The gamble seems to have worked. The show topped NBC's heavily touted Rob Lowe drama, The Lyon's Den, and Spader's complex, even sympathetic performance gives the show more interest than it has had in years. (A stunt casting turn by Sharon Stone helped too.) The old characters, Kelley says, "would always do the right moral thing at the end of the day. That occasioned me to start with just the opposite."
No characters on TV have been more dependably moral than the White House wonks of NBC's The West Wing (Wednesdays, 9 p.m. E.T.). That was the vision of Aaron Sorkin, the series' creator and producer, who wrote or heavily rewrote nearly every episode for four seasons. When Sorkin left last spring taking the show's rapid-fire, talking-while-walking voice with him many thought that Wing, already sinking in the ratings, was doomed. But the ratings have firmed, and in some ways the show is better. Producer John Wells, now heading up the writers' team, kept the core of Sorkin's show but toned down the piety. The heroes are more self-doubting and fallible, and their adversaries more human. Last year President Bartlet (Martin Sheen) ran for re-election against a Republican so dim and loutish no one could have voted for him unless tricked by a butterfly ballot. This year resolving a cliffhanger set up by Sorkin Wing gave us John Goodman as a G.O.P. House Speaker (stepping in for Bartlet after his daughter was kidnapped), who was inspiring, even noble, and the new Vice President (Gary Cole) is a wily, underestimated foil to Bartlet.
It may be in poor taste for 8 Simple Rules to continue, but in TV, good taste is what they talk about in beer commercials. The Practice and The West Wing at least demonstrate that by challenging its complacency and the audience's a crippled show can not only survive but also improve. There are few rules for that, however. And none of them are simple.
Reported by Jeanne McDowell/Los Angeles
Posted by Jo at 04:42 PM
NBC and 'The West Wing' Partner with American Red Cross to Support Disaster Relief
Press Release
U.S. Newswire
WASHINGTON, Nov. 4 /U.S. Newswire/ -- On Wednesday, Nov. 5, at 9 p.m. EST, NBC's Emmy award-winning series, "The West Wing" will air an episode titled "Disaster Relief" that will depict American Red Cross assistance in the aftermath of an Oklahoma tornado.
When the producers and writers created a realistic tornado relief depiction for the shoot in late September, they consulted with the American Red Cross. In light of what has happened since the Red Cross and the show worked together, "The West Wing" offered to assist the organization with its disaster relief efforts. That has resulted in the taping of a television public service announcement featuring Martin Sheen (President Josiah Bartlet), Richard Schiff (Toby Ziegler) and Dule Hill (Charlie Young) appealing for all Americans to support the American Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund set to air following Wednesday night's broadcast.
Who:
NBC, "The West Wing" and the American Red Cross Actors: Martin Sheen, Richard Schiff and Dule Hill
What:
"The West Wing" episode "Disaster Relief" with special public service announcement by "The West Wing" actors
When:
Wednesday, Nov. 5, at 9 p.m. EST
Why:
To assist American Red Cross disaster relief efforts nation-wide
Details:
All American Red Cross disaster assistance is free and relies on donations of time and money from the American people. Due to the extraordinary generosity of the public, the American Red Cross believes that current contributions and pledges, when received, will be sufficient to cover the estimated costs of the Red Cross response to the Southern California wildfires. You can continue to support the American Red Cross by contributing to your local chapter or the Disaster Relief Fund. The Disaster Relief Fund ensures, just as it did in Southern California, that help is immediately available in every community across the United States. To make a contribution to the Disaster Relief Fund, donate online at http://www.redcross.org or call toll free 800-HELP NOW (800-257-7575 for Spanish speakers) or mail in a gift to the American Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund, P.O. Box 37243, Washington, DC 20013.
http://www.usnewswire.com/
Posted by Jo at 08:26 AM
November 04, 2003
Fantasyland
By John Leonard
New York Magazine
There was a time when network programs were actually permitted to have points of view; TV movies argued for or against capital punishment, euthanasia, and abortion, and dramatic series addressed issues like corporate responsibility, vigilante justice, disability rights, and gun control. But that time is over; instead, from brave and edgy producers, we get plunging necklines and fellatio jokes. There are many reasons why The West Wing is no longer must-see TV in my house: With Aaron Sorkin gone, its become a half-speed hobbling from obvious pillar to predictable post, with long walks, slow reaction shots, repetitious flashbacks, underlined signifiers, and so much posing for postage stamps youd think the Bartlett administration had done something, anything, except compromise and pretend to feel bad about it.
But what we are getting from The West Wing is exactly what the network thought the country wanted, after complaints all last year about the liberal sermonizing. By all means, let there be no liberal sermonizing anywhere on television, and never mind that more Americans voted in the last election for Al Gore than for George Bush, and that almost none of us bargained for a repeal of the twentieth century. No, sir. C.J. can be counted on to lose every argument of principle in the new West Wing, and Mary-Louise Parker has yet this season to say anything remotely feminist, and the best line in more than a month of Wednesdays on a program that used to be about social and economic justice instead made license-plate fun of Wisconsin cheese: Live Brie or Die. For shame.
Posted by Jo at 03:47 PM
November 03, 2003
It's no surprise when reviews, promos tell too much
By JOANNE WEINTRAUB
Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel
WARNING: This story contains SPOILERS that disclose crucial plot developments in the movies "The Sixth Sense" and "Cast Away" and in previously aired episodes of the TV series "24," "The West Wing," "ER," "The Sopranos" and "Six Feet Under."
If you have yet to catch up with any of the preceding and still want to be surprised by plot twists, you've now been put on notice not to read any farther.
Often, those of us who crave a little shiver of suspense aren't so lucky. Thanks to detailed movie previews and reviews, blabby book blurbs, teasing TV promos and fan sites that deliver entire scripts, that shiver can be hard to deliver.
The current hit "Runaway Jury," for instance, gets much of its kick from a hairpin turn in the movie's first hour. Inevitably, however, some reviews have pointed to this curve with all the subtlety of a neon arrow.
In 1999's "The Sixth Sense," the gasp was supposed to come at the end. If you managed to see this much-buzzed-about film before someone or something gave away the surprise ending, congratulations. And if you're still planning to catch up with it on DVD, VHS or cable - well, good luck to you.
With television, spoilers are more often an inside job, a byproduct of the network's scramble to get a series noticed in a viewing universe that seems to have exploded.
Take a pair of recent developments on two Emmy-nominated dramas, four-time winner "The West Wing," on NBC, and distinguished also-ran "24," on Fox.
The NBC show, having lost fictitious U.S. Vice President John Hoynes (Tim Matheson) to scandal in the spring, aired an episode last month in which the front-runner for the position was a politician played by guest star William Devane.
Over the summer, however, the network had announced with some fanfare that another actor, Gary Cole, had won the job. So despite the fact that Cole's Rep. Bob Russell was the darkest of dark horses when the episode opened, few fans worthy of the name could be surprised by the denouement.
In another Oval Office twist, "24" ended its second season in May with a breathtaking scene that sent President David Palmer (Dennis Haysbert) falling to the ground unconscious, perhaps even dead.
Would Palmer, a prime player in the show's first two years, return for a third? Good question. But by late summer, long before last week's season premiere, Haysbert began showing up in Fox's aggressive promotional campaign, erasing any trace of suspense.
Buffy's secret at stake
Last season, television columnist Amy Amatangelo went too far with a "24" spoiler of her own.
Amatangelo, of Newton, Mass., writes the "TV Gal" column of news and opinion for the entertainment Web site www.zap2it.com. One regular feature of the column, "To the TV Gal Belong the Spoils," carries the warning: "You know the rules: Don't read if you don't want to know."
Last season, under that spoiler alert, Amatangelo - whose sources in the TV business are often quite chatty - let on that one of the show's villains was about to kill his wife, who would show up in the trunk of a car.
"It was too much to give away, even with a warning," a repentant Amatangelo admits. "I learned my lesson."
She was better about keeping a lid on last spring's much-anticipated ending to UPN's "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer," even though "I think I knew every single detail of the finale." And she won't give away an "Everwood" plot development planned for this month - "a big one" - that her WB network sources have asked her to keep secret.
Dave Weichof www.powells.com also prides himself on his ability to keep certain things to himself.
Weich, who reviews books and writes features for the Oregon-based bookseller's site, came up against a bump recently when interviewing novelist Charles Baxter about his latest work, "Saul and Patsy."
Weich knew he couldn't intelligently discuss the book without asking Baxter about an early twist that Weich himself found "pretty shocking."
But he also hated to spoil the story for future readers. In fact, so circumspect is Weich about this that, after learning that I was a Baxter fan who hadn't yet read the new book, he avoided revealing the twist in our conversation.
His solution in writing the Baxter feature, which is posted on the Powells site, was to introduce the information with a spoiler alert.
"In a feature story, it's simple enough to do," Weich says. But in a review, he notes, it's often not that simple: "It makes a reviewer's job more difficult. You're writing, probably, for someone who hasn't yet read the book but may want to. How much can you say about the book without giving away something that may interfere with that reader's pleasure?"
Still, he was amazed by a review this year of Mark Haddon's unusual, widely praised first novel, "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time," that gave away a stunner. The act was as gratuitous as it was clumsy, says Weich, since the revelation comes near the end of the book.
South Milwaukee reader Lori Wucherer can relate. For Wucherer, though, the spoiler came not from a review, but from a source closer at hand: a book jacket.
The novel was Ian McEwan's recent "Atonement," whose extraordinary impact comes from several unexpected shifts in action, tone and vantage point, including one barely a page from the end.
"I always read the book jacket to get a sense of the story, but this one gave me more information than I realized," she says. "It became apparent as I read the story that I knew the secret. That was disappointing."
Trailer trauma
As Weich notes, if a reviewer's job is tricky in this regard, a marketer's is trickier. How do you tempt the consumer without revealing what's inside? When does an intriguing peek become a spoiler?
Moviegoers routinely complain that trailers give away the best jokes, the sexiest scenes or the moments of highest impact.
Repeated exposure to the same previews - whether in the theater, through TV commercials or via talk and entertainment-news shows - can make viewers feel as it they've seen a movie before it's opened.
The outcry was particularly loud three years ago when the trailer for "Cast Away" revealed that Tom Hanks' character not only survived his desert island ordeal but was reunited with his former fiancee, played by Helen Hunt. The fact that Hunt and Hanks didn't walk off into the sunset together wasn't enough to quell the annoyance.
"I'd like to know the name of the doofus who decided that the trailer should do that," says filmgoer Curt Wiederhoeft.
Wiederhoeft, who grew up in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and now lives in Texas, runs a movie fan site, www.moviepooper.com. But he's no party pooper: Those visiting his site know right up front that it reveals the endings to hundreds of movies.
Why do people want the endings? Sometimes, says Wiederhoeft, you want to know what everyone's talking about but don't want to spend $8.50 for the privilege. Sometimes you're trying to recall how a black-and-white classic you saw six years ago turned out.
He lists both of those reasons and several other innocent ones on his home page, along with a not-so-innocent one: Sometimes "a jerk . . . needs to be put in his place - and how better than to ruin the ending of the movie he's been looking forward to seeing for the last three weeks?"
The power and the glory
Spoilers are not the exception but the rule on network TV, where the proliferation of cable channels has made competition increasingly desperate.
ABC's "NYPD Blue" and NBC's "ER" rarely let an actor leave without a heavily promoted swan song lasting weeks or even months.
In the case of George Clooney's 1999 departure from the latter show, the star announced more than a year in advance that he would leave to make movies, while producers talked freely about letting his character walk out of the hospital rather than be carried out feet-first. To have been surprised by the fate of handsome Dr. Doug Ross, you'd had to have spent a chunk of time on Hanks' island.
In contrast, with subscribers paying each month to tune in, premium cable channel HBO has less need to blab.
So in 2000, even after it seemed likely that Richie Aprile (David Proval) was too creepy to last long on "The Sopranos," it was still pleasurably jolting to see girlfriend Janice Soprano (Aida Turturro), of all people, fire the bullets. Earlier this year, the producers of another HBO Emmy nominee, "Six Feet Under," kept viewers guessing for weeks about the fate of the vanished Lisa (Lili Taylor).
The freedom to surprise viewers, in fact, is a creative perk cable offers writers. For those who write for the networks, that freedom can become a bone of contention.
"There's a lot of dialogue about it," Fox Broadcasting Entertainment President Gail Berman told critics this summer in a discussion about "24" spoilers.
"I think there's frequently tension between the producers' desire to want to withhold as many plot twists as possible so that the viewing experience is as satisfying as possible (and) the marketing department doing everything they can to recruit as big an audience as possible."
But even that tug of war doesn't explain why some people who seemingly have nothing to gain from spilling the beans love to spill them anyway.
As Wiederhoeft says, sometimes revenge is the motive. And if you accept that, it's easy to go the next step: the spoiler as pure power trip, even a bit of verbal sadism.
Then again, you can't spoil something for readers or viewers who want to know how the thing turns out long before they get there.
"My wife is that way," Wiederhoeft says. "Last season, she was dying to find out about the 'Buffy' finale."
Television columnist Amatangelo knows people like that, too. When she's got some really hot dish on a series, she'll give friends a choice: spill it or keep it to herself.
"It's interesting how many people really don't want to be surprised," she says.
From the Nov. 2, 2003 editions of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
Posted by Jo at 08:48 AM