TV Review: The West Wing, Season One

Recently I've been sitting down to re-watch The West Wing, the multiple award-winning show that lasted seven seasons (airing from 1999-2006), from beginning to end. As I did so I realised exactly how much of my life I've given over to Aaron Sorkin's most well-known creation - there are 22 episodes per season, and I've watched each episode more than once - and how much the show has influenced my own writing (if only indirectly. Sorkin and the West Wing team write much smarter than I do. And I'll bet they spell all their words correctly and everything).

Having made such a sobering realisation, I've decided to organise my thoughts about the show into a series of reviews. Seven in total, one per season, treating each as a complete body of work but being aware of how each contributes to the greater whole.

If you haven't seen the show, don't panic. I'll keep the spoilers to a minimum, flagging each one as I go and doing my best to confine them to the end of the reviews.

Which, of course, brings us to...

The West Wing, Season One

The West Wing introduces itself in as grand a fashion as a network television show can muster, boasting one of the finest pilot episodes in recent TV history. The episode accomplishes everything a pilot episode is supposed to and does so with style.

One of the trickiest things to achieve for a TV show pilot - especially one with a large ensemble cast - is introducing all of the major characters in a way that is informative yet economical. The audience needs to learn exactly who all these people are in as little time as possible. The West Wing addresses that problem head-on, making the opening sequence of its pilot a series of short scenes, showing what each main character was doing prior to their work day beginning. For example, Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford) is asleep at his desk, shirt crumpled and hair a mess, clearly still there from the night before. It's the first time we ever see the character, yet we instantly know how much of a workaholic he is and have a good idea of his role within the ensemble. The opening sequence contains five such scenes, and after introducing each character thrusts the viewer right into the main story.

The pilot, as with the season as a whole, also does an excellent job of setting a tone unique to this show. The West Wing strikes a perfect balance between drama and comedy, mixing witty banter and hilarious set-pieces with deadly serious events and storylines with enormous dramatic weight.

The word 'dramedy' is insufficient to describe a show like this. The word is restrictive; it implies that a piece of writing is neither comedy nor drama, but this other, third thing. The creators of The West Wing, however, understand that comedy and drama are not things a story should be, but rather things a story can have.

Interestingly, in an interview with The AV Club, Tim Matheson - who played Vice President John Hoynes - said the following in regards to the show's tone:

"The funny thing about it is—and I don’t know what Aaron Sorkin says about it—but I’m convinced it was a comedy. It’s a very intellectual and cerebral comedy, but it was SportsNight in the White House."

Whilst his statement has the same inherent weakness as the bullshit label 'dramedy' - ie. that it's unnecessarily restrictive - the fact that someone so closely involved with the show calls it a comedy whilst all of the marketing calls it a drama speaks to how effortlessly the show swung between both ends of the spectrum, hitting every grey spot in between.

The show is entertaining from the beginning, but the point at which it goes from entertaining to flat-out must-watch television is Episode 3, A Proportional Response.

This episode contains the introduction of Charlie Young (Dule Hill). Charlie, the president's personal aide, acts as a humanizing figure; he's the show's 'everyman'. The West Wing, by its nature, is a show about Very Smart People debating Very Important Things using Very Big Words. Charlie is a character with whom the audience can identify. He reacts to things the way a regular viewer would, and walks the halls of the White House with a look of awe and intimidation on his face. He is exactly who we would be if thrust into this place, alongside these people.

Sorkin has a similar fondness for Hill. "What I'll always remember and love about the episode is this: It's when we first meet Dule Hill" (excerpt taken from the introduction to The West Wing Script Book).

The first season is not, of course, without its flaws. The most glaring is that the character of Mandy Hampton (Moira Kelly) constantly floats around the edges of the main story, never quite gelling with the rest of the cast and suffering for her superfluousness. In one episode she warns Toby Ziegler (Richard Schiff) that her complaint about Santa Hats clashing with Dickensian costumes might seem trivial; his response is to ask, incredulously, "that might seem trivial?". A joke is made of her role in that episode, but it's emblematic of the problem her character faced throughout the season - everything that Mandy is worried about seems trivial in contrast to the crises faces by our core cast and her scenes are the closest the show comes to unnecessary filler. Moira Kelly does fine work in the role, it should be pointed out; creating chemistry between characters/cast members is a strange kind of alchemy, not an exact science, and Mandy's lack of importance to the story can't be blamed on the actor.

In fact, all of the performances are good, while some verge on greatness. In particular, Allison Janney (as Press Secretary CJ Cregg), alongside the aforementioned Bradley Whitford and Richard Schiff are standouts. All three turning in excellent performances, sewing the seeds for what would, over the course of the next several years, become some of the most memorable and well-realised characters in television. Rob Lowe (as Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn) brings a lot of charm and a finely honed sense of idealism, while Martin Sheen (as The Motherfucking President) and John Spencer (as his Chief of Staff Leo McGarry) preside over the whole ensemble as dual Father Figures, bringing to those roles enough gravitas and warm-heartedness to make it work beautifully.

From the very beginning, The West Wing was defined by its ambition. Ambition in terms of its subject matter - it's essentially a hybrid of procedural and soap opera, as have been so many shows before it (ER, The Practice, etc) but it's not about anything so mundane as doctors, police or lawyers; it's about a group of the smartest and most powerful people in the world.

Ambition in terms of its writing style - no word is too big and no reference is too obscure, as the show trusts in the ability of its audience to keep up with the story even if the meaning of a specific line is lost.

Ambition in terms of its shooting style - each episode is shot like a miniature feature film, with long and complicated shots being the norm.

In the face of such admirable ambition, it's impossible not to be impressed with each moment as it passes on screen.

Ultimately, Season One is 22 episodes of a funny, smart TV show made by and about dedicated people. It's issue driven without being didactic, dramatic without being melodramatic and hilarious without being unrealistically broad. There are far worse ways to spend a few hours of your spare time than to rent/buy/borrow the DVD, and the whole thing culminates in one of television's greatest cliffhangers, guaranteeing that you'll be back for Season Two.