Saving Aaron Sorkin from himself

A guman takes the cast hostage on tonight's episode of ER...um...sorry...I mean on tonight's episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.

This is how desperate Aaron Sorkin has gotten already?  He's reworking a plot ER must trot out at least once a season?

I was thinking of giving the Studio 60 live blogging a rest this week.  Fortunately, Neddie Jingo came along to give me a quick smack upside the head.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked solicitously, handing me an ice pack after I came to.  "Did you forget you asked me to do the live blogging this week?  Do you know what I had to go through to rearrange my schedule for this?  I actually had to figure out how to program my BlackBerry!  You'd better do the live blogging thing!"

And so we will.  Ned will sign on tonight at 9:55 to get the Snarkin started.

The fact is, however,  I don't know how much longer I can keep the live blogging going.

It'll depend on whether or not Aaron Sorkin can make the show into something worth talking about instead of something that's just fun to make fun of.

And there's a limit to how much fun can be had making fun.  The trouble is that Studio 60 isn't a bad show in the outrageous way the night time soap operas of the 1970s and 80s were bad.  It is bad in the saddest and most boring way possible.  It is bad by being not as good as it could be.

Pick an episode, any episode, and then choose a scene or a moment or a line that you disliked.  Lots to choose from, I know, but the odds are that whatever one you choose will be a scene or a moment or a line that could have worked "if only."

Go ahead, pick one.

During the live-blogging a couple weeks ago, commenter Katewyn, wondering if it was possible for the show to change direction and, given time, grow into something good, asked the group of us, "If you were going to nurture it - no, really, if you were in the business of caring about it -  what would you do?"

Discussion never got going, which is too bad.  But better late than never.

First thing Sorkin should do to fix Studio 60 is fire himself as head writer.

Sorkin makes his shows about the writing, about his writing.  The writing isn't the only thing that's wrong with Studio 60, but most of what's wrong with the show is the fault of the writing.  Sorkin's writing for Studio 60 has been bad because Sorkin is just the wrong writer for his own show.

Aaron Sorkin can't write comedy.  But that's not it.

Sorkin doesn't write for his actors; he writes for himself.  But that's not it.

He can't resist the urge to preach.  But that's not it either.

The big problem is that Sorkin has no idea how to structure a story and tell it in 60 minutes.

Sorkin has made some fitful attempts to construct story arcs that will carry through a number of episodes, but none of them is compelling.  The one involving Amanda Peet's character---will her sleazy ex-husband's tell-all book get her fired?---isn't plausible, but even more damaging, it has nothing to do with her job in the show or with the show within the show.  And the Will Matt and Harriet get back together plot, besides the problem of Matthew Perry and Sarah Paulson's lack of body heat, is just a variation on the old opposites attract chestnut that like all the other variations misses the point of the model they're all working from---Sam and Diane could never get together because they would wind up killing each other if they did.

In short, while Shelley Long was on the show, Cheers wasn't about getting Sam and Diane together.  It was about keeping them apart.

That's another post.

And for some reason Sorkin gave up right away on the story arc the series seemed to be premised upon---can Danny and Matt save Studio 60 and bring it back to its former glory?  Apparently that's been decided.  They can and they have.  Ricky and Ron?  No problem.  Stuck with the old cast?  Nevermind.  Jack wants to see them fail?  Water under the bridge.

But even if he could make the longer arcs more dramatic, this isn't going to be a show with a lot of action, adventure, and a high body count.  There isn't enough happening for every single episode to be about nothing but advancing the story arc.  Something else still has to happen within the individual episodes.

Sorkin has admitted to being weak on developing plots.  He's also weak on character.  The two weaknesses are inter-related.  Characters define themselves in two ways, through what they do---plot---and what they say about themselves to justify what they're doing.  Sorkin isn't Shakespeare or Dickens.  His characters do not speak in their own peculiar idioms.  They don't create themselves out of their own idiosyncratic word choices.

They don't reveal anything about who they are or where they're from or when they grew up by how they speak.  Whenever Sorkin's characters want to tell us about themselves they have a habit of reciting their resumes.

The only way we know Harriet is a born-again Christian is that she keeps telling everybody she is.  But if she's ever sung a hymn, said a prayer, read the Bible, or even gone to church, you can't tell it from her word choices.  She tells us she's a Christian using the exact same syntax and vocabularly Jordan uses to lecture about product placements, Danny does to lecture about the Hollywood blacklist, and Tom employs to give his parents a lecture on the history of television comedy.

Sorkin's characters all speak in the same cadences, they use the same vocubulary, they draw their references, metaphors, and analogies from the same set of cultural touchstones, and they all talk about the same thing---the issues raised by the storyline they're stuck in.

Which is how we get long conversations about the economics of product placement in which any line could have been delivered by any character.

I don't know if Sorkin thinks he needs to do this kind of thing because this is how real network execs talk to each other or if he does it because he wants to "educate" his audience or if he's just fascinated by this sort of minutiae himself, but the effect is that his characters sound as though they are cramming for exams all the time---and we can sense Sorkin himself cribbing as he types out a scene.

That's not writing; it's transcription.

One of the more insufferable qualities of Studio 60 has been the way Sorkin has used it as a vehicle for self-congratulation.   Sorkin has been telling us how television needs more good writing like the kind he's providing for us.  Besides the overestimation of his own talent, this boasting reveals a terrible and I have to think willful ignorance of what's been on television over the last 30 odd years.

Nevermind The Sopranos and Deadwood and other HBO series, the regular networks have produced dozens of shows that featured writing of the caliber Sorkin appears to think his own reaches.  Law and Order, when it was good, Northern Exposure, Seinfeld, Frasier, Cheers, Homicide, NYPD Blue, The Simpsons, St Elsewhere, Hill Street Blues, Barney Miller, MASH, Mary Tyler Moore, the list could go on and on (Go ahead, go on and on in the comments)---all of these shows were excellently written by writers who did well---did better---the thing Sorkin is most praised for.  Dialogue.

And they did far better the thing Sorkin himself says he's not that good at---plot.  They could tell a story in a set amount of minutes.

And most of the people who worked on these shows are still alive and working.

So if I were Sorkin the first thing I'd do tomorrow morning would be can my own ass and hire somebody like Ken Levine and his writing partner David Isaacs to be whatever title head writers hold these days.

It's an understatement to say that Ken and David know funny.  Having worked on MASH, they also know how to be serious while being funny and vice versa.  And they know who else knows these things.  They could put together a stable of writers who could make Studio 60 into something worth quoting every Tuesday morning if not live blogging about every Monday night.

Little while back Ken posted a short excerpt from a MASH episode he and David wrote.  It was the two-parter in which Radar goes home, called simply and directly enough, Goodbye, Radar.

FADE IN

EXT. COMPOUND – NIGHT

Tired and sullen, Potter, Hawkeye, and B.J. (still in bloody surgical garb) EXIT. O.R. and head towards “The Swamp”.

POTTER
Pierce, you were a good boy in there.  You only threw one instrument, and two tantrums.

HAWKEYE
Well, the finger’s improved.  It’s up to excruciating.

B.J.
(looking up) Warm night.   Maybe I’ll take a walk and unwind.

HAWKEYE
Sounds relaxing. I’ll get a couple of flashlights. You can look for minefields, I’ll check for snipers. (beat) Where do you think he is now?

POTTER
Doesn’t matter.  He’s away from here.

B.J.
I really miss the kid, you know?

POTTER
Yeah.

HAWKEYE
I’m going to name my first wife after him.

They reach “The Swamp”.

B.J.
Well, I’ve walked enough.

HAWKEYE
Me too.  Let’s see if the bar is open in this place.

CUT TO;

INT. “THE SWAMP” – NIGHT

Potter, Hawkeye, and B.J. ENTER.

B.J.
He’s probably halfway to Hawaii by now.

B.J. flops on his cot.  Hawkeye is at the still, fixing three drinks.

HAWKEYE
(yawning) I don’t want to think about it anymore.

Potter stops, looking down at Hawkeye’s bunk.

POTTER
Hey, boys…

B.J./HAWKEYE
Yeah?  What?

CLOSE ON HAWKEYE’S BUNK

Lying on his pillow is Radar’s teddy bear.

BACK TO SCENE

Touched, Potter picks up the teddy bear, hands it to Hawkeye.

HAWKEYE
(to teddy bear) Good-bye, Radar.

FADE OUT

There's a lot going in in that little scene, including the fact that in their very few lines BJ, Hawkeye, and Col. Potter is each very much himself and their self-ness is revealed not just in what they say individually but in the way their lines bump into and off of each other.  But the thing that's going on that Sorkin should recognize and appreciate is something that's supposed to be one of his trademarks, the characters are exchanging dialogue while moving.

It's a walk and talk.

It's all been done and done better and Sorkin should take advantage of it.

Comments

[mark]

Good post. My old college buddy Barry Fanaro wrote some good stuff on The Golden Girls.

[J.]

Well commented, sir. I agree also, the heat isn't there, and as much as I'd like to like this show, it isn't singing to me. But I think this show will truly jump the shark when they have a "bioterrorist" hoax incident. Hey, all the other shows (Chicago Blue, Alias, ER) have tried it. If he falls back on that chestnut, I'm done.

Do you watch "The Unit" on Tues? The Mamet writing is good when it's limited to combat. The "Bored and Desperate Housewives" B-plots are wastes of time and distract from the combat missions. If Mamet focused on the men and resisted the urge to put his wife in the show (although she's cute and talented), it would be much better.

[merciless]

Spot-on again, Lance. Sigh. What I can't figure out about this show is what the network saw in it to begin with. It's entirely about Sorkin, how cool he is, how Kristen Chenowith is (or at least should be) really sorry that she ditched him, and how much everyone loves it when he explains things to them.

TWW was not like this, at least not most of the time. Drama ran up against comedy, and then bashed sidelong into romance or tragedy. The shows you mentioned (you forgot Six Feet Under, holy crap is it good) did all those things all the time. They spoke of humanity, of life with all the good and bad, and made you believe it.

A huge poster of Woody Allen doesn't make Matt more human, it makes him even more prententious. A little girl imploding as an executive doesn't make Jordan appealing, it makes her weak and embarrassing. And I really have no clue what all the Christian stuff is about.

Well, I could go on like this all day, but I'll spare you. I look forward to the live blog tonight. Maybe they'll start giving Brad Whitford some lines.

[Dusty]

Re "... the old opposites attract chestnut that like all the other variations misses the point of the model they're all working from---Sam and Diane could never get together because they would wind up killing each other if they did," the opposites thing can work if the opposite characteristics are shown to be all surface, with a more substantive similarity lurking below. Which was not the case with Sam and Diane, who were dissimilar above and below the surface, but arguably the case with a pairing like Dave and Matty on Moonlighting. (That show just didn't have any idea of what to do with them after they put them together, which is somewhat baffling given that The Thin Man is just sitting right there.)

Matt and Harriet are actually extremely similar on the surface, with one major area of distinction lurking below, the question of their religion. Leaving aside the fact that the characters as conceived and executed have no chemistry whatsoever, unless she's suddenly going to become not-Christian or he's going to stop being such an insufferable bore about her Christianity, their relationship is clearly a nonstarter, except in that it allows Sorkin many opportunities to make reductive observations about the culture wars. It's like when the main character gets shot in the first minutes of the episode. You know they're not really going to kill him off, so there's no real tension. Matt and Harriet are never going to make it and, on top of that, their little dance is humorless and charm-free, so there's nothing in it for the audience.

J. brought in Mamet, who obviously does a similar thing as Sorkin (and Tarantino, really) in terms of having his actors deliver their lines with a minimum of affect. But, with Mamet, it's an outgrowth of a whole philosophy of Meisner-influenced drama rather than an efficient way of forcing the audience to pay attention to the writer above all else. And Mamet is far more skilled than Sorkin at using dialogue to create character as well as advance plot, but the technique still creates the illusion of smartness for the viewer, which Sorkin himself may confuse with actual smartness.

In the interests of adding to the list: NewsRadio, Freaks & Geeks, The Rockford Files, The Bob Newhart Show and Newhart.

[Victoria]

Why, Mister Mannion, we seem to have connected in some strange way over this Sorkin business, for I am Katewyn and I am Victoria.

She's my daughter…She's my sister... (slap) She's my daughter...
(slap ) My sister, my daughter. (slap) She's my sister AND my daughter!

Sigh. What can I say? Sometimes I forget where I am.

Where was I? Oh, yes. While I would hardly challenge you to a duel on any of the intelligent points you make, I do have these reactions:

Yes, yes, I know what you mean about the similarity in the way people talk – to a point. But it’s worth noting that really good actors love Sorkin’s scripts, they go on and on about the deep pleasure of acting those roles – and, I’m sorry, but any writer who can serve up gifts to good actors is providing – at the very least – a decent space for making a character breathe.

He gives them something they can embody – and in that, make the characters distinct. Toby was different from Leo, who was different from Donna… Dana was different from Jeremy, who was different from Isaac…

If you think about it, Sorkin writes about people who work (Work – how you go about it, how you negotiate the community of co-workers - is Central for Sorkin) in hermetically sealed environments – military, White House, TV studio; in other words, places where people tend to start talking the same.

**Sorkin, fire thyself** seems over the top, given that what he really needs is a trusted assistant whose sole job it is to catch repeaters, those sorkinisms which, overused, can become annoying and, worse, obstruct suspension of disbelief.

I am thinking here of director John Korty. Korty directed Jack Lemmon in Alex and the Gypsy. In one of their first meetings, Korty said, “I’ve been watching all your movies and I’ve made a list of 22 Lemmonisms, gestures and reactions you tend to use. How about if, for this role, I let you know any time I see you falling back on one of those?” Lemmon, to his credit, seized on this opportunity to drop all familiars.

Sorkin could invite someone to follow him around with such a list, in the spirit of extending his bag of tricks. And yes, it would be healthy for him to trust and empower others to lay words on a page.

As for the fine sample from MASH, here’s my question: how many years had that show been on the air by the time they wrote the GOODBYE, RADAR script? Were they writing new characters with actors fresh to them? Or were they writing characters long defined and embodied by certain actors in a firmly-established imaginary world? Makes a massive difference.

[Karmakin]

No no NO! I watched the episode last night and that's NOT what happens. What DOES happen is much better.

I agree 'tho that the overall story arcs are weak. But I continue to love this show not for the big plot (Heroes does that for me), but for the little character interaction, and the little stories.

The little stories. I like that.

In tonight's episode, it's Matt dealing with the remnents of the writing staff. He brings in an experienced writer to help them. That's the real story of the episode. That's the interest.

That's what I enjoyed.

[Jaquandor]

Karmakin has it right: the "gunman takes cast member hostage" thing isn't even close to what happens. That's not even a good metaphor for what happens. One subplot does involve a gunman taking people hostage, but the way it works is really nicely done.

I've actually liked several of the recent episodes, and this one is especially good, really. I laughed out loud at several points, it's got that deft flashback-thing going on that Sorkin does really well when he's on, there is NO boring Matt-and-Harriet stuff going on, et cetera. Sorkin seems to be backing off the "TV writer as messianic genius" crap and the "meditations on blue state versus red state" crap the last two weeks, and just telling interesting stories about what happens behind the scenes of a teevee show.

[Lance]

Jacquandor, No gunman? Phew! I was just going by what it says on the NBC website. I'm looking forward to the episode. As I keep saying, I want this show to last and be good.

Katewyn/Victoria/Evelyn Mulwray: As for the fine sample from MASH, here’s my question: how many years had that show been on the air by the time they wrote the GOODBYE, RADAR script?

That's a good point. That's from Season 8. But I think if you go back you'll find that the "voices" of the characters were established a lot earlier, within their first seasons on the show. BJ and Potter didn't appear until Season 4, but they appeared already talking like themselves. And the way the voices play off each other doesn't depend on our knowing the characters. I used that excerpt as an example of Ken's writing, though, to show that he has done what Sorkin wants to do and so he'd fit the show.

J., I can't believe I never heard of The Unit! I'm going to check it out. It's on Tuesdays?

And J, Dusty, Victoria, Jacquandor, et al, you all are audtioning for guest host blogger, you know that, right? I expect notes from all of you in my email volunteering.

[charlie]

Good points, all, but methinks you idoilize the Golden Years of Professional Television Writing a bit too much. Sorkin can be more talented; he has an cadence, a built in iambic pentameter which can try to raise television to poetry.

But as big a problem as character and plot is casting; it has been bad. 50% of the cast is miscast. Amanda Peet. Sarah Paulson. The guy in the lobster suit. The cute girl. The Brit girl. The black guy who isn't funny. The other black guy who is funny. Sarah Paulson.

That being said, Matthew Perry and Steven Weber are having a lot of fun.

Perhaps you are right, they are the living zombies of Sorkin's id...

[Dusty]

Re Victoria's post:

Yes, yes, I know what you mean about the similarity in the way people talk – to a point. But it’s worth noting that really good actors love Sorkin’s scripts, they go on and on about the deep pleasure of acting those roles – and, I’m sorry, but any writer who can serve up gifts to good actors is providing – at the very least – a decent space for making a character breathe.

I don't actually think he does leave them room to breathe. I'm not saying actors don't respect his writing or want to work for him or that they're dissembling when they praise his work in interviews promoting the product that employs them and that they had hoped would be a prestige project to be involved in. I'm only speaking as an audience member, but I've never found Sorkin's writing to be particularly spacious in terms of the license he leaves his actors due to the specificity of the rhythms of his speech and the lack of affect he (or Schlamme or both) requires.

Nor have I found Sorkin's writing to be particularly demanding from an acting point of view, in that one only has to get the basic style down and then recite the new lines in that style. It produces a level of consistency, but there's an assembly-line feel to it. The work goes into producing that first model and then all you do is stamp it out.

If you think about it, Sorkin writes about people who work (Work – how you go about it, how you negotiate the community of co-workers - is Central for Sorkin) in hermetically sealed environments – military, White House, TV studio; in other words, places where people tend to start talking the same.

Certainly people who work together in a given profession or office may eventually fall into a similar pattern of speech, although outsiders would not and a question to be asked about Sorkin's dialogue is whether he incorporates enough variation in those patterns to communicate that certain characters belong to a different community or even that they wish to belong to the main community and simply don't (Ricky and Ron, possibly Jack and Jordan). Are the variations that are present coming from Sorkin's pen or are they coming from actors who have not been completely Sorkinized and still retain some semblance of individuality? I often found guest performers on TWW to be more compelling than the regulars for the latter reason.

Beyond the question of whether it's legitimate to have all characters speak in a similar fashion, as a dramatist, one still must differentiate the characters somehow, particularly when one doesn't allow the actors to do the heavy lifting in that regard. As Lance noted, Sorkin often uses blocks of expository material to substitute for character development, as in Harriet's tiresome biographical sketch earlier in the season.

Howard Hawks was also preoccupied with the way people worked, but he used their actions and how and how well they performed those actions to differentiate the characters. Sorkin rarely lets us see how these people work and, from what I have seen, I'm not convinced they are as good at their jobs as the show seems to think they are.

[Mike Schilling]

The Honeymooners.

Sergeant Bilko. (That was the debate between Freud and Spinoza!)

Taxi, at moments that were too few and far between.

[Frank]

Lance,

Your comments are mostly spot-on, but I have to disagree with this statement:

"The big problem is that Sorkin has no idea how to structure a story and tell it in 60 minutes."

There are some West Wing episodes that are amazingly constructed, self-contained 60-minute (or, rather, 42-minute) stories.

One that springs to mind is "Noel," in Season 2, where Josh finds out he has Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. The whole episode features Josh and the psychiatrist played by Adam Arkin sitting accross from each other at a conference table trying to get to the root of Josh's recent breakdown in the Oval Office. Through a series of flashbacks (okay, admittedly an overused Sorkin trope) we get walked through the last three weeks leading up to this meeting.

But the whole thing works like a very tightly-constructed one act play, and could probably have been staged as such. It would have stood on its own even without the flashbacks.

I haven't seen much of that on Studio 60 yet, but hopefully its coming.

[Lance]

Frank, I remember that episode very well, mostly for Adam Arkin's performance, but still, it was a good one. Probably I should have written something like, "Sorkin has forgotten how to structure a story and tell it in 60 minutes." But I noticed this at the TV.com episode guide. Sorkin wrote the script for Noel, but the story is credited Peter Parnell who worked as a writer, executive story editor, and co-producer on The West Wing.

Sorkin had a co-writer for last night's episode too.

Suggests Sorkin is better when he's collaborating.

[maurinsky]

I never watched The West Wing, so if I went by this show alone, I would have to say Sorkin sucks. How many of the plotlines are from his own life? All the characters sound the same, they all talk too much (except for Ron, who's gone), and it's all tell, tell, tell and no show. All talk, no walk.

We know Harriet is a gifted comedienne because....well, not from anything we've seen on screen, but only because everyone tells us how gifted she is. We know Matt is a brilliant writer because....well, all the stuff he's written that we've seen has pretty much sucked, so again, we have to rely on others.

The only two characters that are well drawn are Cal and Jack. The rest of them all seem like they are puppets standing in place for Sorkin.

And great TV writers: Joss Whedon gets my top vote. On the occasions when one of his characters said something out of character, it was jarring, and you noticed it.