Looking Back on "Studio 60"

Sunday, 15 July 2007

By John Keegan    Visit Critical Myth for an archive of John's TV Review archives, with more than 1100 entries.       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.

 

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