The Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip Blog

It would be easy to join in the mob mentality that has surrounded “Studio 60” since it’s initial fall from ratings grace.  Many mainstream critics found it easier to bury the series, especially when they could reiterate someone else’s analysis, only with increasing levels of sarcasm.  Call it the “Television Without Pity” factor: now that the site is part of the industry, mainstream critics feel the need to compete on the same negative playing field.

To do so, however, means losing one’s objectivity, the ability to see the good with the bad and take the material in the proper context.  It’s easy to harp on the flaws and ignore the strengths.  One might even stop watching the show and just repeat the same criticisms.  Several reviews from the mainstream press in the final days of the show seemed to be written without any knowledge of the actual finale or anything leading up to it.

It’s also important, however, to remember that objectivity works both ways.  To a certain degree, the backlash against reviewers and critics (started by Sorkin and perpetuated by the hardcore fans) made it difficult to discuss the flaws without being accused of “jumping on the bandwagon”.  That kind of attitude did little to convince the mainstream press to give the series another chance, as it seemed to confirm the impression that Sorkin and his supporters were unreasonable and, at times, purposefully malicious.

Now that the series is over, however, there’s an opportunity to look back on the strengths and weaknesses without fear of negative effect.  The series is already canceled, and Sorkin did a magnificent job of bringing the story to a relative conclusion.  One can look at the series as one would look at a novel with 22 chapters, and judge it accordingly.

In retrospect, this is not simply a series about how a television sketch comedy is made.  That was how the series was presented to the masses, but that’s not what the show is about.  The story was about how people reacting and living in the years after September 11, 2001 struggle to find personal meaning and purpose within the framework of their familiar surroundings.  Which, in this case, was a television sketch comedy show.

One might quibble that the setting didn’t make much sense, rendering the series too insular and self-referential, but it was a unifying conceit that allowed for a variety of perspectives.  Sorkin understands the current climate in Hollywood and television, and so he’s in a unique position to explore how that part of society has been dealing with the fallout of 9/11.  This also gave Sorkin the opportunity to bring several characters of divergent background into the story in the context of common experience and demand.  They all have to overcome personal challenges, within and without, to deliver each and every week.

In other words, the setting gives the story a sense of urgency.  More than that, the constant need to perform becomes a measure of personal success.  Ratings for “Studio 60” within the series itself become a metaphor for the highs and lows of the characters (particularly Matt Albie).  The focus is meant to be on the characters, not the external show within a show.

This is one of the flaws in execution, most evident early in the series’ run.  One might blame the network for how the show was promoted, but the underlying problem is one of conception.  The audience is told, within the context of the story, that Matt is a genius comedy writer (perhaps the best in the history of “Studio 60”) and that Harriet is a nearly-perfect comedic actress, especially when given material of Matt’s caliber.

Thus Sorkin himself, within the context of the show, set up the expectation that Matt’s material, when performed by Harriet, would be incredibly funny, clever, and better than anything seen on “Saturday Night Live”.  Simply put, that wasn’t true.  And because the character context mentioned above wasn’t an obvious focus of the story in the first third of the series’ run, that failing was a contributing factor to the precipitous drop in ratings in the fall.

Those introductory episodes also presented a number of scathing remarks about the president, Republicans, and Christians, to the point where Sorkin was accused of using the show to trumpet “extreme Hollywood liberal garbage”.  In retrospect, however, the characters were true to their own histories and reactions to 9/11.  Sorkin eventually made that clear by the end of the season, but in the beginning, that context was missing.  And in the end, that alienated a massive segment of the audience (not unlike how the impression of “The West Wing” as a mouthpiece for liberalism kept people away from that series for quite some time).

Those two factors played against the strengths in the character development and the obvious quality of a Sorkin-driven production.  With Sorkin using thinly-veiled versions of people in his own life as the basis for main characters, the disconnect between how the characters’ talents were described and what was on-screen and the divisive opinions expressed made it a hard sell.  Despite that, the series presented excellent material like “The Christmas Show”, the series’ most memorable installment.

The middle third of the series, usually the “complication” phase of a season arc, focused more on character relationships.  Critics often term this an intentional “retooling”, as if Sorkin had changed the series in some attempt to placate the network and the masses.  To a certain extent, that might have been true, but the material itself was still very much the same, with a minor tonal shift.  In retrospect, this was the logical direction for the story to take, knowing where the story was meant to go.

Unfortunately, Sorkin chose to explore one relationship in a manner that left some viewers with a horrible sense of sexism and paternalism.  Danny’s relentless pursuit of Jordan was in keeping with the character’s “executive producer” mindset, his determination to achieve a goal once he sets his sights on it, but for some, it looked like inappropriate stalking.  The line was a fine one, and some scenes appeared to cross that line, giving the series more negative press during a time when many felt the series had been changed to appeal to a wider audience.

By the end of February, the writing was on the wall, and cancellation was a mere formality.  This gave Sorkin the opportunity to give the series a proper ending, and so the final third of the season was conceived as a massive and revelatory resolution.  Sorkin outdid himself by giving the loyal remaining audience the full picture, placing everything that had come before in the context he had always envisioned.  From the new perspective afforded by the final arc, the early character attitudes made more sense.

It’s hard not to wonder if Sorkin’s decision to hold back on that information cost him the series.  If that background information, complete with the more obvious relationship to 9/11, had been evident from the beginning, would the characters have been as off-putting?  Perhaps so, but it would have been easier to understand their perspectives and give them time to evolve and change.

As it stands, the series will be remembered for what it did well.  The cast was superb, and even in the most frustrating moments, it had the typical Sorkin charm.  As a fan of Bradley Whitford, I especially enjoyed his turn as Danny Tripp.  I was also quite impressed with surprising performances by Matthew Perry, Amanda Peet, and Steven Weber.  The production values were also excellent, closer to film quality than standard television.

The Critical Myth average review rating for “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” was 7.5, squarely between average and above average on the rating scale.  This puts it roughly in the same company as “Battlestar Galactica” and “Heroes”, and taken as a whole, that’s just about right.

Written by Aaron Sorkin
Directed by Bradley Whitford

When I noticed that this episode was written by Sorkin and directed by Whitford, I was well pleased. Both Sorkin and Whitford were two of my top reasons for watching the show in the first place, and while Tommy Schlamme would have been a good contender for the final director as well, this felt right. As did most of the series finale, for that matter, though I found it ever so slightly predictable.

It would have been hard for Sorkin to avoid the predictability, to be honest, and that’s why I can’t take too much away from him in that regard. I thought it would be satisfying on a metaphorical level for the series’ version of “Studio 60” to be canceled for low ratings, even as each character found peace with their respective demons. After watching the finale, I came to the conclusion that such an ending would only be satisfying in the short term. Taking the long view, Sorkin’s more positive and hopeful ending will stand the test of time.

After all, this series is about selling comedy in wartime, and more than that, the right and need to express irreverent perspectives and ideas during wartime. It strikes right at the heart of the cultural war spawned by the Patriot Act. It’s told from a perspective that is easy to dismiss as arrogant and privileged, and thankfully, Sorkin has taken on that notion directly in these last few moments. We’ve come to see that these “Hollywood liberals” are living and breathing the same struggles as the rest of the human race. And what we all need, in the darkest hour, is hope.

So “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”, within the series, had to survive. It had to endure, because if it endures, then free expression endures and our characters have a place to share their personal victories together. The ratings problem won’t go away, the couples will bicker and rage, but in the end, we know it will all work out. And that’s the message at the heart of the series, now that it’s over.

Thankfully, Sorkin manages to make the last steps of the journey to victory as difficult as it should be. We’re taken through hell and back with Jordan’s chance of survival (including one of the most evil act breaks in recent memory), and Whitford plays Danny’s angst beautifully. He’s very prominent in this episode, and that had to be a challenge. Tom’s situation was equally well done, including and beyond the moment where he unleashes a nickname for the Commander-in-Chief that could haunt him until the end of time.

The conversation between Simon and jack evolved almost perfectly, right up until the end, where Jack comes to his personal epiphany about Matt and Danny’s departure five years earlier. Had the series continued, this moment might have been more dangerous, since the character’s hard-line nature was one of the most enjoyable aspects of the character. This is one reason why the single-season lifespan of the series is ultimately acceptable: the character arcs were given enough time to come together in a satisfying manner.

If there’s one relationship that doesn’t quite get realistic closure, it’s the dynamic between Matt and Harriet. In the end, it’s a story that would have needed several seasons to evolve and shift towards common ground in the most satisfying manner, just based on the massive philosophical and ideological gap between them. Sorkin did his best to make it work, however, by turning to the universal truth of “love conquers all”. Knowing that this is the end, that this is the final statement on the relationship, I couldn’t think of a better way to bring their conflicts to momentary rest.

In short, despite all the flaws, I felt this finale (and the massive mini-arc that fed into it) gave the series a strong sense of purpose and relevance. Knowing the writing was on the wall, Sorkin took the time to give his story an ending that expressed, very well, why the series was such a great idea in the first place.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 3/4

Final Rating: 9/10

(Series Final Average: 7.5)

When I heard this was a trilogy spanning one single dark night of the soul, I was thrilled by the idea. When I saw that it was essentially the “Studio 60” version of “Lost”, right down to drawing parallels between past and present with flashbacks, I was even more thrilled. Bringing the series full circle and grounding its themes in “television during wartime” was the icing on the already incredibly rich cake.

To say that I will miss this series when it’s gone is a massive understatement. For the past few weeks, I’ve been screaming at my TV in happy frustration at the end of every hour. Knowing that the end is near is making it that much harder. It’s like getting towards the last couple of chapters of a book that took a while to get going, but was worth the patience by the end.

I was a little surprised by the lack of resolution, because when you think of a trilogy, you think that the third act would bring the pieces together. Structurally, though, this is more of the classic five-act form: introduction, rising action, complication, climax, resolution/denouement. And that’s pretty much what we have with the final five episodes.

That makes this the climax, for all intent purposes, and from a character perspective, it’s true. Everyone gets to a point of personal crossroads at the end of the hour. Danny is placed in the most hopeless of situations, left with nothing but faith to pull him (and in a sense, Jordan) through. Harriet faces faith on her own terms and helps Danny understand humility, perhaps getting a sense of where Matt’s coming from in the process. I was expecting that dynamic to happen with Matt and Harriet after the first part of the trilogy, but this was a better execution.

Matt’s moment was really with Jack, bringing him towards closure with all the issues brought up in the pilot. Jack, in turn, must face down his own decisions while dealing with the fallout of Simon’s outburst. I don’t recall if they’ve touched on Jack’s sexuality before, but it was an interesting direction to take; without a second season, however, it could be seen as extraneous. Whatever the case, I found Jack’s attitude and restraint with Simon to be a telling contrast to his tactics with Matt and Danny.

Since the trilogy includes a number of dramatic elements in threes (Danny/Harriet/Matt on faith, Matt/Jack/Simon on truth vs. perception), there’s the third crisis with Tom and his brother. This is more plot driven as a necessity, but there’s the struggle between Tom and his two “advisors”, Mary and Captain Boyle. Tom is caught between the percentages and the difference between personal and global moral concerns. It’s a bit more abstract for the audience, since the other dramatic threads are more directly relatable, but it’s still compelling.

All of the characters dance and weave around these three threads, contributing to each character triptych in turn, and those minor shadings make it all more cohesive. As concluding arcs go, this is a stunner, and the effort taken to connect the continuity dots (finally bringing the Bill Maher item in line with this retelling of Matt and Danny’s exit in 2001) is well appreciated. If Sorkin and his staff can pull off a solid dismount for the finale, this series will go down in the books as true missed opportunity.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 2/4

Final Rating: 8/10

This is the middle of a trilogy, and as such, the name of the game is escalation.  Situations need to get more and more complicated driving into the conclusion, and that thought process drives both time periods explored in this story.  In fact, the stories are so compelling that I was screaming at my television in frustration at the end.

Some found my comments in the previous review somewhat naïve and ridiculous.  After all, they said, “we already know how Matt lost his job, why would you need more context”?  At it turns out, there’s a lot more to it than supporting Bill Maher, and we’re getting to see that process unfold.  In fact, this time around, the writers beat the audience over the head with the message: this is not going to end well, because it didn’t end well last time, either.

In the past, Matt and Danny were left with the burden of doing something they didn’t want to do: put on a season premiere right after the initiation of the War on Terror and with their writers’ hands tied behind their backs.  Matt wants to play it safe, but as reinforced on many occasions, he also recognizes when a sketch will work and should be allowed to happen.  This was the case with “Crazy Christians”, as seen earlier in the series.  That brings everything to a head, with Matt allowing the “wrong” content to leave the writers’ room and Danny in charge when it’s about to happen.  We already know how the story will end, but now there’s a lot more context.

The situation in the present is not quite a parallel in terms of putting on content that Jack doesn’t want on the screen.  It’s tonally parallel in that Matt and Danny are in charge when the situation gets beyond Jack’s control.  Like Wes in the past, Jordan is in the hospital, so there’s nothing between Jack and Matt and Danny.  Both of them are distracted by so many personal issues that they miss the crucial matter of keeping Simon away from the press.  And considering how hard Jack was trying to keep the network and Studio 60 from being even more of a target, that’s really the final straw.

The connective tissue is the war, which again helps to place the series in a more consistent context.  This is interesting, because while some fans probably caught the undertones from the very beginning, this trilogy makes it abundantly clear.  This was never a show about how television works.  This has been a show about how television works in wartime.  And that adds a sense of nuance to every episode, every scene, and every line.  It compels the audience to go back and watch again from the beginning, because placed in context, scenes that once sounded like Sorkin ranting to the audience now sound like characters speaking from the heart.

The inevitable effect of this trilogy, and the series-capper that will follow, will be the acknowledgment from many of the critics who dismissed the series in the first place.  The series still has its flaws, but looking back, this “Lost”-esque look at how the characters have come full circle is more than worth the effort.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 2/4

Final Rating: 8/10

This episode continues the final major arc of the series, and as such, the time has come to bring the plot and character threads closer to resolution. As such, it’s not particularly surprising that the major relationships would be inching towards a sense of closure. What is surprising, under the circumstances, is how well this arc is pulling together all the pieces and giving the entire series a feeling of planned cohesion.

While it should have been obvious that Matt and Danny left Studio 60 in the fall of 2001, it was never emphasized. Yet taking that into consideration explains so much about the tone and topicality of the series, including its constant focus on political, social, and religious issues. Matt and Danny’s exit from Studio 60 was tied into the conflicting demands of the post-9/11 world, and that changes the context of their return. If, as hinted in this episode, they were forced out because of tensions over content related to politics and religion in the wake of the beginning of the War on Terror, those thoughts and memories would be inexorably tied into the circumstances of their restoration to the show.

It’s hard to say if that was always something in the back of Sorkin’s mind, but if it was, it’s a damn shame that it was never apparent at the very beginning. There were some indirect comments regarding Matt’s religious humor being an issue, particularly “Crazy Christians”, but now the implications are a bit more accessible. The timing was always there on the page, but now that it’s been explicitly spelled out, I think it really paints the picture. It certainly made me appreciate and understand some of the subtext from earlier in the season!

The flashbacks also demonstrate how the series is coming full circle in terms of the story. Jack’s present actions are colored by his assumptions and errors in the past. Tom’s current crisis is seen as the culmination of six years worth of accumulated worry and family dysfunction. The montage of Matt and Harriet’s relationship over the years, all coming down and arriving at this particular point in time, is one of the most gratifying moments thus far.

As much as I found the initiation of the Jordan/Danny relationship to be forced, with the wrong message about Danny’s behavior being sent in the process, I couldn’t help but be pleased when Danny proposed. I still think it will be a contentious relationship, especially if Studio 60 pulls out of the ratings dive, but something tells me that will be directly addressed in the finale.

At this point, it almost feels like the series should end with Studio 60 being cancelled, Jordan fulfilling her “one year” prophecy, and the entire tale being about how this last-ditch effort to save a sketch comedy show changed the lives of those struggling to keep it afloat. It wouldn’t be the happy ending everyone expects, but it would give the audience one last chance at catharsis.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 2/4

Final Rating: 8/10

If the previous episode emphasized the farcical aspects of the series, then this episode is all about the drama.  There are some funny moments throughout the hour, particularly in terms of some great character beats, but the goal is escalation of tension.  With the fate of the series sealed, Sorkin is moving towards an endgame, and this is clearly the beginning of that process.

This is a more organic follow-up to “4AM Miracle”, but “The Disaster Show” fits into the broad statement that Studio 60 has been in a creative tailspin for several weeks.  The ratings are dropping into dangerous territory, and by whatever measure Jack determines his support for Jordan, that line is being approached at a vastly accelerated rate.  That ratings issue hangs over the episode like black cloud, and while it gives Sorkin a chance to toss some attitude at those who harped over the ratings of his own show, it also provides a clear and concise case for the show’s cancellation.

The business pressure precipitates and enhances much of the remaining drama.  Matt’s situation is absolutely soul-crushing.  Having fallen into addiction (and his journey out better not be as easy as he wants it to be), he’s taken the show with him, and it’s affecting everyone else around him.  The situation with Karen and her lawsuit, complete with the hottie lawyer with the contradictory personality, just supplies more pressure.  He’s trying to convince himself that he’s over Harriet, but he’s not, and the show itself has put forward the idea that he works best when trying to impress her.

I would have rather seen Danny confront Matt without Suzanne’s help.  The eventual confrontation was quite satisfying (if a bit didactic), but it might have been better without the additional layer.  That said, it’s good to see Suzanne getting some screen time, given how little there is left to share.  But given how the ratings issue built between Danny and Jordan over the hour, the timing was perfect.  This was the very last thing Danny needed when the ship is sinking and he’s trying all too hard to pretend it’s not.

Jordan’s character beats were interesting in that her thoughts must be dominated by the fact that she can’t feel the baby kicking (always a bad sign in fiction, it seems), yet she’s trying to keep things together and deal with her faltering career and the strain it’s putting on her relationship with Danny.  That serves to highlight all of the obvious issues with this office romance, and that’s something I applaud.  It will never end as badly as it should, but it’s great to see the obstacles come up.  (So they can, of course, overcome them by the finale.)

Had the story focused on the three main characters alone, it would have been worth the time.  But this was an incredibly dense hour, and the subplot involving Tom’s brother exploded at just the right moment to take the episode into unexpected and gripping territory.  I’ve been critical of the plot and character arcs for the series, and I still think they were the cause of the show’s downfall.  The actors and the characters themselves have been the draw for me, and the final act demonstrates why.  Given powerful material, the cast steps up to the plate in a huge way.  I was left wanting more, and considering where “Studio 60” stands at this point, it’s quite the achievement.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 2/4

Final Rating: 8/10

Considering how long it’s been since the last original episode of the series hit air, it was wise to slip this relatively self-contained episode into the order. Giving the story a little more time to breathe and the supporting cast a chance to shine had to be the operative thought, considering that the three main cast members are nowhere to be found.

At the end of the previous episode, Matt was searching for the “4AM miracle”, something that would break his writer’s block in just enough time to allow the show to work. Harriet’s break with Luke was the apparent catalyst, and one might have assumed that the show went off without a hitch. It seems like the miracle was rather short lived, given how the show actually progressed.

Because of the stakes for Matt, seen in the previous episode, it’s a bit off-putting that he’s not reacting to the meltdown. That said, I’m not sure that there was time in the episode for Matt, Danny, or Jordan to add a substantial contribution. I suspect that the next episode will deal with their reaction to the show in some fashion. At least it should, because with Matt on a downward spiral with drug addiction, this apparent failure feeds into his suspicion that any trouble with the show is the fault of his writing.

Jordan’s absence is covered nicely by Jack’s presence. Jordan is under heavy fire for her choices, and Jack can only protect her so far. Danny’s mistake with the propmaster union, by virtue of his relationship with Jordan, could have disastrous consequences should the program take a ratings hit from the subsequent problems. I would hope that all of this would play into the final arc.

It’s great to see Cal in the spotlight, because his frenetic production style is one of the highlights of the series. Busfield has a wonderful sense of comic timing, and despite the fact that it could be well over the top, he keeps it reined in just enough to make it viable and believable. It’s also great to see him work with Alison Janney again; they have a comfortable chemistry that works regardless of what characters they play.

It’s also interesting to get a glimpse of how the rest of the cast is dealing with the Matt/Harriet issue. There is that real world reaction to the person who’s been in a long-term on/off relationship, where everyone else around that person just gets sick of the routine. Some members of the audience are in the same frame of mind, so it was good to see the characters themselves struggle with it.

There was also a subplot involving Simon, which focused on a less-than-admirable side of his personality. With so many characters searching for a meaningful relationship, it’s interesting to see someone with more of a reputation for playing the field. That said, it’s unfortunate that the “player” is the most prominent African-American character, since it seems a bit stereotypical. It’s still an amusing if predictable subplot, but it’s hard to ignore the implications.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 1/4

Final Rating: 7/10

The drop-off from Tom Schlamme’s directorial effort last week is evident from the very first frame. This is “Studio 60” back to the usual grind, and it’s simply not as compelling. It doesn’t help that the episode feels scattershot and disconnected. A number of plot threads are explored in the episode, but there’s never a true sense of cohesion.

The main plot is a follow-up to Matt’s downward spiral in the previous episode. Matt continues to struggle with his muse, especially now that she’s put him in his place and left him for metaphorical dead. Without the tension that comes with Harriet tightly in orbit, Matt is unable to function. It’s starting to become noticeable. If he’s still abusing pills (something not seen in this episode) and his depression remains, it’s hard to imagine that he’ll be able to hide it much longer. After all, Danny is a recovering addict and should know the signs.

His conversation with the sexual harassment lawyer didn’t seem to gel in the way implied by the dialogue. There was certainly a purpose to pushing Matt’s buttons, but it might have been too subtle. The idea, if I understood it correctly, is that Matt was willing to stand up for the sanctity of the writer’s room even when the topic at hand was debauching his soulmate, which in turn makes him a good witness against the claim that the writing room was a hostile work environment. If that was the point, then it was a little obtuse.

The attraction to Matt, of course, fits perfectly within the odd world of “Studio 60”, where sexual harassment lawyers can point out how damaging an office relationship can be to overall effectiveness, yet solicit a date from a future witness for the defense. As good as this might have been for Matt, it makes Harriet’s apparent slide back into his life more complicated. The episode leaves Matt in a precarious emotional situation.

A lot of time was spent on Harriet’s time on set with Luke, and it also hit an odd note for me. Perhaps this is part of the cycle that keeps Matt and Harriet in their eternal struggle, but why would Harriet feel guilty about telling Matt how he acts? His sense of entitlement is disturbing, and they’re simply not good for each other. Yet instead of forcing Matt to get his act together and moving on with Luke, she sabotages her relationship with Luke and comes running back to Matt. Sure, Luke was being a jealous fool, but he’s not playing to co-dependency game.

The Matt/Harriet relationship manages to make Danny and Jordan look sane in comparison. The two of them are still being very cute together, but this episode does suggest that juggling a baby (hopefully in the metaphorical sense) will be harder than they realize. Danny is far too cavalier about the demands that they will face. Any parent can dredge up the war stories from that first child’s early years, when everything was new and incredibly daunting. All the assurances in the world won’t make things easier if Matt can’t get the show out of a tailspin and even more stress hits at the same time as the birth.

This is the last episode to run before the hiatus for “The Black Donnellys”, and apparently it also had the worst ratings for the series’ run to date. Everyone but the core audience is abandoning this ship before it sinks completely, and that’s unfortunate. More unfortunate is the probability that this episode was representative of the series as a whole. It had plenty of promise and potential and interesting characters, but at the end of the day, it just never came together.

Writing: 1/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 1/4

Final Rating: 6/10

Written by Aaron Sorkin
Directed by Thomas Schlamme

According to several sources, “Studio 60” is leaving the air earlier than intended to allow “The Black Donnellys” to start at the end of the sweeps period. This is in response to the continued loss of viewers since the slight surge in ratings at the beginning of the year. Unlike some of the other series on NBC hitting a mid-season hiatus, “Studio 60” is in a dangerous limbo. If “Studio 60” was a hospital patient, the doctor would be advising the family to gather together at this point.

This is unfortunate, because the series has always held so much potential. Nearly two-thirds of the way into the season, however, it’s hard not to wonder if that potential was squandered. For a good chunk of the fall, the series was hammered for being a thinly-veiled version of Sorkin’s life and a mouthpiece for anti-Christian ranting. This was followed by a plot thread for Danny and Jordan that left a sizable chunk of the remaining audience turned off by the implications. At this point, it hardly matters if the allegations and interpretations were fair or not; the effect has already done the damage.

And so it goes that this episode, a mesmerizing study of a character suffering from self-inflicted depression and escalating drug addiction, garnered the lowest viewer totals in series history. It would be easy to point to the grim subject matter as the culprit, but the ratings for this episode are more a response to “The Harriet Dinner: Part II” and the sweeps episodes of “CSI: Miami”. Some viewers chose not to return based on the Danny/Jordan relationship (if online discussion is any indication) and some viewers are jumping to safer waters.

What they missed was a classic Sorkin/Schlamme collaboration. The tone of this episode was much more in line with the pilot than some of the more recent episodes. That’s not to say that the direction was lacking in those installments; it’s more of an indication that Schlamme has a style that lends itself very well to Sorkin’s vision.

In many ways, this episode is the flip side to “The West Coast Delay”, which was another atmospheric treat (and equally unappreciated). Both episodes inhabited a darkly romantic space that was reflective of Matt’s emotional state. The structure of this episode was fluid and dreamy, often slightly disjointed, suggestive of Matt’s mental state under the influence of the pain medication.

Critics will no doubt charge Sorkin with mining Matthew Perry’s history with addiction to painkillers to compensate for a lack of original thinking. Then again, it is a time-honored practice of good television writers to use an actor’s personal life as grist for the character exploration mill. After all, it allows the actor to mine genuine emotional and psychological knowledge to give the performance authenticity. Perry should be given a great deal of respect for this episode.

Matt Albie is not the only character living in an unusual state of mind. After all the hand-wringing over the past few episodes, Danny and Jordan seem to be living in that ecstatic haze that comes with fresh and somewhat secret love. It’s a bit jarring at first, but after reflection, it feels more like the calm before the storm. Over time, one would expect all the issues surrounding the relationship to come crashing down on their shoulders.

Thanks to the various flashbacks, giving important context to the love triangle between Matt, Luke, and Harriet, there were some opportunities to look into the history of Studio 60. It’s actually hard to imagine how Matt won Harriet over, considering where he started. But it does serve as a good reminder of how Matt’s pursuit of Harriet led to creative inspiration, which in turn reinforces the effect that this latest break will have on his ability to run the show. One can only hope that the series manages to stay on the air long enough to explore this fertile ground.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 2/4

Final Rating: 8/10

This is effectively the final part of a long arc that deals with the evolution of Danny’s relationship with Jordan and the concurrent breakdown of Matt’s relationship with Harriet. While the changes in one relationship make sense, given the situation and the characters involved, the other plot thread seems almost inexplicable. The result is an unsatisfying hour that does not bode well for the future of the series.

Bradley Whitford is very good at playing arrogant authoritative characters, as his stint on “West Wing” clearly indicates. His long relationship with Donna was marked by a seemingly unending string of comments regarding his superiority and a sense of entitlement a mile long. That’s not to say that the crazy kids weren’t meant for each other. It just means that we’re used to seeing Whitford play the role rather well, and there’s a simply basis for comparison.

The difference in this case is an important detail. Josh was Donna’s superior, which meant that there was no relationship until they were working for other people and conflicts of interest were resolved. Now, Whitford plays the subordinate, even if he’s a highly paid executive producer. Jordan is his boss, and as she deftly points out, there are issues involved with any potential relationship.

Jordan actually outlines a long list of reasons why the relationship should never, ever happen, Those particular reasons are still valid by the end of the episode. Nothing Danny says is a good counter-argument to the massive amount of trouble that any relationship between them would create. And more to the point, Danny doesn’t seem all that sincere in his repentant about his methods, which crossed the line. (Yes, he apologized, but it had gone beyond that point.)

So when Jordan chose to reveal her own interest in Danny at the end of the episode, it doesn’t feel earned. In fact, it seems deeply contradictory to everything leading up to that point. Either we’re meant to believe that Danny won her over through persistence, or that Jordan was testing Danny all along. None of that makes the relationship particularly healthy.

At least Harriet managed to give Matt the crushing blow to his ego that he so desperately deserved. Matt may have a number of good qualities, but they seldom seem to come out where Harriet becomes involved. This should be interesting because Matt is creatively driven by his unusual relationship with Harriet. So long as he’s struggling to win her heart and respect, he pushes himself. With none of that hope remaining at this point, just how will his ability to write for the show be affected?

Three other subplots get a sense of resolution before the end. Perhaps the most important is Jack’s attempt to use Kim to get something from her father. After some amusing complications in the previous episode, this falls apart well before the end. The only moment remotely satisfying was the revelation that Kim’s father could speak English. Otherwise, Jack manages to win without really earning it. In that respect, it’s very similar to Danny’s win with Jordan. (Even Tom manages to win with Lucy in a spectacularly unlikely manner.)

Simon’s issue with Darius gets some minor clarification, but it still feels like Sorkin and the rest of the writing staff tried to tell a story without actually bringing up the topic at the center of the story. I’m also still wondering why Simon needed to be such a massive jerk while making his point, and while Darius thought it was acceptable to be treated so badly. Simon may have had a point, and might have been feeling responsible for getting Darius to step up, but something organic was missing from the execution.

The final subplot is Cal’s attempt to hide the truth about the snake, ferret, and coyote. While there are some funny moments here and there, especially when Cal starts saying anything off the top of his head. But like the subplot with Kim, it seemed to fizzle out by the end. It led to an interesting enough montage at the end, with an odd song choice (another Christmas selection?), but when the credits finally rolled, it was all less than satisfying.

Writing: 1/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 1/4

Final Rating: 6/10