Black screen. "Access." The episode that will live in infamy.
We begin the actual documentary, I guess, with a C.J. interview, in her office. She tells the camera that, after Jed's, her face is the one people most associate with the administration. She insists, however, that her job is not well understood. As we watch her wrangle reporters at a press briefing, C.J. voices over that people tend to see her facing off with the press, and she claims that "there's a misconception" that her purpose is "to stymie reporters, or to mislead the public; to spin or even hide the truth. When in fact, any good press secretary aims to do just the opposite." At this point, there's a cut, and then C.J. is laughing that "this is a terrible idea." I could not agree more, although I guess she's in character. I will admit, though, that after some of the Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters noted that the actors might be improvising, I wondered if she wasn't. Then, with no transition of any kind, they cut again, and she's talking about the news cycle all of a sudden: "The breakneck pace we live at, the twenty-four-hour news cycle, is this good for the country? Is it inescapable? How do we reflect? Get perspective?" I'm not sure why, when we've seen this show address all these things in depth many times, anyone would think we would care to watch C.J. give an abbreviated, sound-bite, sounds-like- every-other- talking-head- on-television version of the same concerns, but clearly, it's time for me to stop asking why. All I'm doing is dragging it out for all of us, I know. It's hard to keep my mind on this, instead of on something more interesting, such as the drop of condensation currently making its way down the side of my can of Diet Coke with Lime.
Speaking of "how could anyone think I would want to watch this," we are now subjected to actual Frontline-style documentary footage of the sort that makes poor little children despise history until they get old enough to find out about all the sex and violence and the parts where people hide inside big wooden animals. As I sit winding and unwinding a rubber band around my finger, we are subjected to endless old movies of old presidential press secretaries and a cursory, dull, uninformative history of the job. Fortunately, there will be no quiz later.
Convinced that contrary to all indications, I care, Famous Narrator Guy wonders aloud, "What about the private aspects of this office? Given the current media explosion, how is this important job changing?" Blah blah blah, does the press secretary define America's relationship with the White House, blah blah blah. I'm afraid FNG is going to wind up with egg on his face, in that the "media explosion" isn't exactly going to be "current" three years from now when this is allegedly airing. I mean, by then, that newfangled internet thingamabob is going to be pretty old hat, I fear, as will round-the-clock cable news. FNG says that Access (the faux-show, don'tcha know) spent a day with C.J. in an effort to answer his burning questions. And by "burning questions," I mean "questions that should have caused the script to combust spontaneously with its very banality." Anyway. C.J. is talking again. "I see my job as making sure the press and, through them, the public is well-informed," she says in a different interview. "I tell them the truth," she says. Then there is a long pause. Solar systems are born and die. "That's my goal," she finally adds. FNG says that, as it happened, the Access cameras captured a day that "was anything but ordinary." He goes on to exposit that the day the crew witnessed was very harrowing for the administration. I begin counting repetitions of the pattern on my couch.
Credits. I've never missed the actual show so much in all my life.
FNG intones, over White House and press-room establishing shots, that the program you are currently mainlining caffeine to remain awake for was shot over two days, a year into the second Bartlet administration. However, for national security reasons, it's not being shown until after the administration is out of office. So it's the future, geddit? What you have here is a desperate attempt to give some air of plausibility to the obviously absurd notion that any documentary film crew would be allowed to stroll around the White House offices the way these people are about to do. It's pretty insulting, really, but try not to dwell on it. I recommend tall, frosty margaritas. Speaking of which, why do bars occasionally drop, like, two hazelnuts into a margarita? What are hazelnuts doing in a margarita? If I wanted the flavor of hazelnut, I'd be drinking coffee at Starbucks, now, wouldn't I? I know, I'm changing the subject.
Another relentlessly dull setup sequence follows, in which FNG says that, before the internet, the press secretary's job was simpler. But just in the, you know, fifteen years before this documentary is being shown, it exploded! Oh, that internet. So confusing, with all the buttons to press. And then "Eric Schaeffer" -- a staff assistant of C.J.'s who works in the Office of Nine Zillion People In This Episode We've Never Seen Before -- is seen on the phone providing the president's press schedule for the day, clarifying that it's for planning, not for release. FNG offers up some statistics about how a lot of people watch and read the news. Lots of people. The news is important. You know...speaking of things that are important, do you think I could bank a wadded-up tissue into my trashcan off of the leg of my coffee table? Because I'm thinking that I could. Okay, okay, back to C.J. She interviews that the press secretary job was never "laid-back," and then she makes a refreshingly content-free remark about Eisenhower's press secretary's allowing the first news conference to be recorded. It's so dumb, again, because she doesn't say anything about this, really, other than that it happened. She doesn't offer any insight about it, and frankly, as a history lesson, I don't care. That's not on the list of interesting things I learned this week. That's not even on the list of interesting things I heard this week and immediately forgot about. I don't care whose press secretary did the first news conference. Without context and story, that's just...like a seventh-grade civics filmstrip. It's remarkable to me that this episode was "written," and shot, and edited, and all that, and apparently nobody noticed that you can actually feel your life shortening as you watch it. I feel like I'm strapped to that machine in The Princess Bride that sucks years of life out of your body. Only instead of seeing Chris Sarandon leaning over me, I'm seeing Eisenhower at a press conference. No, no, don't crank it any higher!
More blather from FNG about how TV makes the press more powerful, which is really big news to anyone who has not only slept through the age of the internet, but went down for a nap sometime before Edward R. Murrow and is just now waking up. (By the way, to that person: you missed an entire sexual revolution which is already over, and now you're old. Too bad for you.) C.J. shows her ID to the security guy at the gate, and she asks him about his kid (I guess), which is what's supposed to pass for insight about C.J. C.J. asks about family! C.J. cares! Or at least C.J. knows how to look like she cares! I feel smarter already. But then I start thinking about making an appointment with the dentist, and that gets me thinking about my deductible, and then I spend a few minutes thinking about the health-care crisis in this country. Believe me, pondering single-payer programs was a welcome relief.
Anyway, C.J. interviews that she gets up before 5:00 and reads news before she comes in; her commute is her alone time; she gets in at 7:00 or 7:30; and working at the White House "never gets old." Aside from the part about the White House, she has just described my day. No, really. So that's not really documentary-worthy, in that I can recreate it by narrating my own morning. ("I've recently switched to decaf, which makes me unmanageable until about 11:30.") There's a senior staff meeting, she explains to Documentary Guy, and then she sees the press, and then she meets with her staff. None of which is new information. Carol brings C.J. some coffee as she strolls down the hall, because she is an assistant from the 1960s, before people got their own coffee. I hate to think that C.J. is less considerate than Melanie Griffith at the end of Working Girl. Carol tells C.J. that Steve and Chris are waiting for her, and that Chris is "chatty," which C.J. says is "trouble." As they walk down the hall, C.J. takes a nervous glance to her left and asks Carol if "he" is on the president's schedule. "Who?" Carol asks. "The FBI director," C.J. exposits helpfully. I'm sorry for looking up from the latch-hook rug I am currently working on instead of paying attention, but seriously, who talks like that? They would use his name. That's absurd. Between Carol and C.J., in a conversation like that, "the FBI Director" sounds hopelessly clunky. Sigh. Hate! HATE!
C.J. learns from Carol that Steve wants a quote about the tech sector, so Steve and Carol and C.J. have a conversation, filmed from annoyingly far away, in which C.J. says that the tech sector "represents six million American jobs." "That I can look up," Steve says unhelpfully, and then C.J. asks him about his daughter's college acceptances. Because it was fully thirty seconds ago that C.J. asked about somebody else's daughter, so you needed her to do it again in order to prove that C.J. cares a lot about personal relationships. See? The press guy? The guard? They know that C.J. loves your family, no matter how insignificant to her you are!
In a different conversation badly lit and shot from annoyingly far away, Woman In Blue Shirt (my sense is that I should know who she is; sorry) talks to C.J. about the fact that the First Lady apparently wore a Richard Tyler gown that sources say she accepted as a gift, when the ethics rules say she shouldn't have. Then, Carol comes in and gives C.J. a schedule. "You can't afford to ignore what even seems trivial," C.J. voices over. As she and Carol walk through what I guess is C.J.'s staff area (?), Carol says she has a call in to the First Lady's office, and they suddenly bump into Wilson Cruz (my God, Rickie, YAY!), who tells them that the minister's wife has a cold and can't make it to the podium. This apparently relates to the Ugandan business. But enough about Uganda -- it is all I can do not to stop right now and read nineteen consecutive My So-Called Life recaps. And then about a hundred other recaps from shows in PH. There's some great stuff hiding in there, you know. But don't go look now -- if you abandon me, I don't know what I'll do.
Now, we get a stirring anecdote about how one time, C.J. accidentally made a joke about dogs, and the press thought Bartlet hated dogs, and yeah, that was a really bad time for everyone. C.J. claims that there were stories for "weeks." As it turns out, there is great character development here in that C.J. used to have really appalling hair. !
Senior staff meeting. Josh, Donna, Toby, Leo. Lots of other people milling around, which they never are when we see meetings in Leo's office during the actual show, so...apparently the only meetings we've ever seen before are the unimportant ones. C.J. unfurls a string of clichés in an interview about "balls in the air" and so forth. In the meeting, Toby points out that the president is meeting with the Ugandan delegation. Toby's got a meeting on AIDS policy, blah dee blah.
Toby explains in an interview that he found C.J. working in PR when he was involved with a senatorial campaign in New York. Toby says that they were thirty-six points down when she came aboard, and thanks to her great work, they gained two or three points before losing. Hilarious. NOT. NOT NOT NOT. NOT! NEEEEEXT!
I am drowning in suck. Oh, won't someone please, please throw me a rope?
Back at the heavily populated meeting the likes of which we have never seen, chattering continues while FNG tells us that "the accelerated release of information is a concern of everyone." Except me. "They all have to consider how the message will play in the press," he says. That line was for all the regular viewers of this show who don't know that the White House staff considers how things will "play" in the "press." I know this show has sometimes been a little advanced, and I'm really grateful that they still offer the remedial class.
C.J. asks Leo whether the FBI put something on Jed's schedule. "Who's asking?" Leo wonders. "So far, just me," C.J. says. "No," Leo comes back. Sparkly dialogue, indeed.
In Josh's obligatory interview, he says that, sometimes, they don't tell C.J. things, because if she knew them, she'd be "ethically bound" to share them. "I don't want to put her in that position," he says. You know, I made pumpkin waffles this morning for breakfast. They were really good. Shall I tell you about them? No? More mockumentary? Are you sure? I'm telling you, the waffles were a LOT better.
"Martin Sheffield," allegedly a former White House press secretary, talks about how being press secretary is a hard job. All the old ones who are still alive like to get together, because it's a "club." They know what it's like to "take those bullets," and so on and so forth. "There's a loneliness in this job," he says in a forlorn fashion. Poor, poor Martin Sheffield. All he has to keep him company in his older years is his club of former press secretaries and his giant tote bag full of clichés. Unfortunately, long after all of the press secretaries have died, the clichés will probably linger on.
up, the "pool spray," which surprisingly has nothing to do with getting anyone wet. Rickie lets the photographers in to take pictures of Jed sitting at a conference table with a bunch of other people. Oh, C.J. has fourteen "young aides and assistants" on her staff in the press office. Are you sure you don't want to hear about the waffles?
"Andrew Weltzman," another Guy We Have Never Seen Before In Our Entire Lives Despite The Fact That He Is Apparently In Charge Of Practically Everything C.J. Does Not Do Her Personal Self, tells us that he was a journalism major at NYU, interested in politics, and he got hooked into the job through friends of the family. So wait, he had relevant education and interests, and then he got a job through a personal connection? Those crazy Washington people. Rickie then explains that he went to Howard University, and that he wrote for the student paper there and was critical of the administration for its stance (or lack thereof) on matter including "gay issues and racial issues," and he wrote to C.J. and asked to meet with her, and she gave him a job. Again, what an exciting story. And...scene!
Now, C.J. meets with the communications staff in her office. This is a thoroughly smurfy meeting, largely because everyone is just much, much too happy. Moreover, we're watching much of it through the blinds of C.J.'s office, which is very irritating. If I wanted to watch obnoxious people surreptitiously through the blinds, I mean...hello, I have neighbors. Andrew makes mention of Andy's "getting chummy with the Palestinians," and then Rickie says there's a schedule change. "Oooooohhhhh!" the entire staff yells in unison in mock horror, just like they would...well, nowhere, actually. Carol actually looks at her watch in an exaggerated, ha-ha-ha fashion, so warily good-humored is she about how quickly the schedule sometimes has to be changed here in C.J.'s office in the Catskills. Try the veal. C.J., underscoring Carol's joke in the "stomping it until it's thoroughly broken" tradition of the show, interviews that indeed, the schedule always falls apart by midmorning. Hey, just like Carol's great joke implied! I love it when I can keep up. By the way, what they're trying to tell you here is that things are hectic at the White House. Make a note. C.J. and the staff discuss the "Rangers" (Boy Scouts, basically) who are coming and have apparently gotten lost, and how if the Rangers show up, they'll do their event in the Rose Garden if it doesn't rain, blah dee blah.
Moving on to what will be passing for the B-plot, Andrew says that he'll be with the Vatican people all day discussing the Pope's upcoming visit. There is banter with Carol over whether it's "His Eminence" or "His Holiness." Then there's some even less funny comment about "imminent" and "Eminence" and OH MY GOD PUT A FORK IN MY EYE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. Sorry. Oh, and C.J. is having Unknown Eric monitor crime news, apparently to see if anything looks like the FBI is involved. Hilariously, after she says "FBI involvement," other staff members mutter, "FBI? FBI? Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb." Because they were surprised to hear the FBI mentioned, you see. When they're all gone, Carol and C.J. and Donna all huddle, because there's evidently something afoot. C.J., meanwhile, interviews: "I am here to articulate the president's message, and to honestly [sic] inform the press, and through them the public, about what is happening on any given day." Which is basically the same thing she's already said a couple of times. So. Donna tells C.J. that she needs to come to Leo's office, and C.J.'s like, "All of us?" right in front of Carol, and Donna pats Carol on the shoulder while saying, "They didn't say," so C.J. can't bring Carol, apparently, and as C.J. and Donna walk away, Donna guiltily says, "I'm so sorry." Believe me, Donna, if Carol knew what C.J.'s day is going to be like, she wouldn't be angry at you for not taking her.
As C.J. stands around outside Leo's office, Documentary Guy asks her whether she thinks the FBI director will let the cameras into the meeting. She says it's "hard to tell." And then he asks her whether it's a typical morning, and she says sort of, and then they discuss the Heisenberg principle, and C.J. paces, and also, I made pan-seared salmon for dinner last night, which really was incredible. You need a cast-iron pan and a towel to wave at your smoke detector. What? Oh, the show, the show, right. Yeah, anyway, it turns out that the FBI director has decided to let Documentary Guy and the cameras into the discussion of a developing situation. Because if there's anything the FBI is known for, it's definitely openness, especially when all information is not yet in. The FBI director tells C.J. that six federal agents are currently surrounding a cabin on Shaw Island, off the coast of Washington. (The state, not the city where all vitality is currently being sucked out of everything living.) A naturalized Yemeni-American, known to me as Holed-Up Guy, is in the cabin with his family. He was being investigated for arms trafficking, and the agents tracked him to the house where, ninety minutes ago, there was gunfire. Leo and the FBI types try to dismiss C.J. with little more information than that, but she gently says that she expects to be asked questions about it and might need more. The FBI guy reassures her that they can handle it, and not to worry her pretty little head. (Not in those words -- I'm rounding to the nearest patronizing insult.) And then when she starts to ask for clarification, Leo totally shows her up in front of the room and the documentary crew by giving her the icy, bored "Thank you, C.J.," and sending her out. We again see C.J. say this: "I am here to articulate the president's message, and to honestly [still sic] inform the press, and through them the public, about what is happening on any given day." The quote so nice, they showed it twice.
There's a teaser before the commercial about what we're going to see coming up, because it's a documentary, get it? It really is. ["But if it were a PBS documentary, there wouldn't be throws to commercial. So that's just more stupidity." -- Wing Chun]
When we return, C.J. is behind her desk with the press "gaggle." Greg Brock asks C.J. why the FBI director is in the house, and C.J. says it's because he briefs the president twice a week. Which is false, so there goes C.J.'s whole "I don't mislead the press" thing. It's hard, giving up one's illusions. In an interview, C.J. admits to withholding information from time to time. But she can't lie, because the press is so "smart," and they'd catch her.
, Carol is interviewed about whether C.J. ever has to lie to the press, and she sheepishly says it's a hard question. (In that the answer to it is "yes.") She says that the press secretary has to "present what's best for the White House and what's best for the country." Brock, in an interview, says that he is always skeptical of whatever comes from C.J. He says that the public relies on him to question the White House, and in a free society, you can do that. It's thrilling, because I haven't seen that kind of stirring patriotism since I last visited a car dealership and was overwhelmed by all the flags.
Toby's interview. He says that "the truth is an elusive idea," but that "there is a time and place for when certain facts can be dispensed to the press and to the public." I suppose I'd be a poor sport to point out that the truth is "elusive" largely because people put themselves in charge of when "certain facts can be dispensed."
Now: Allison Janney home movies. Allison Janney on a roller coaster. Allison Janney on a sailboat. C.J. says her father gave her "a lot of drive." In other news, C.J.'s mother was "the communicator," and would understand her job. You know, so often, you only see these people when interesting things happen to them, but here, you get a rare glimpse at them when they have absolutely nothing to say. I, for one, am happy to have the opportunity.
In the Vatican meeting, Andrew is chatting with a bunch of guys I guess are Vatican reps of some sort. Over the footage, C.J. voices over that it's hard not to "make everything lethal" when there's such a crisis environment. Andrew gets into a little scuffle with one of the guys over the Vatican's interest in having Jed's audience with the Pope be public. "What does that involve?" Andrew asks. "Shots of the president kissing his ring?" Vatican Guy asks if Andrew is uncomfortable with the request. "Is the Pope Catholic?" says Andrew. Good grief, ! But C.J., who has been watching from the doorway, goes to fetch Andrew and take him to the woodshed. In private, Andrew starts to protest that the Pope will get after Jed about birth control and such, and C.J. tells him no, he screwed up, and he'll have to apologize. If Jed doesn't want it public, it won't be, and if he does, "that's a headache way over your pay grade." Way to drive it home to the guy that he's a peon, C.J. Eh, respect is highly overrated in bosses. As we watch Andrew apologize, C.J. says that it's about "grace under fire" and other worn-out dreck, which she refers to as "war metaphors." Because apparently, she doesn't know the phrase "hoary old clichés."
C.J. is asked about her mother, and says that she died, and then she's asked about her dad, and says that he has Alzheimer's. Josh, in an interview, says that C.J.'s dad is in a bad way, and that she's given up the chance to be with him to have this job. Which I guess is supposed to be good. And is what her father would have wanted, apparently. Or so Josh says. Donna interviews that C.J. has "great instincts," and that the press respects her and has a great relationship with her. Donna adds an unnecessary, self-effacing, irritating I'm-so-dumb laugh at the end that's just...it's wrong, partly because it's like an attempt to inject life by brute force into this joyless, dead episode.
We watch Carol trying to arrange time with Jed through Charlie. It doesn't work.
C.J. is in her office watching TV news, and she's talking to someone on the phone about whether there's any "buzz out of Seattle." Meanwhile, outside in the Rose Garden, Unknown Eric is trying to get the lectern technician's attention for a concern about the "levels." This is all in preparation for an appearance in front of the press in connection with the Ugandan state visit. The lectern tech is doing his best to ignore the question. Ah, the inherent tension and timeless drama of technical difficulties.
Inside, C.J. is on the phone, watching the monitor with some dismay as Jed walks out for the press appearance. She apparently asked them to wait before sending him, and then we hear that the person on the other end of the phone is Josh. Where is THAT sound being picked up? Did the White House allow C.J.'s phone to be tapped? Wow, they really are trusting. The documentary camera then swings dizzily to reveal that Josh is actually in his office at the opposite end of the hallway from C.J., pacing around while talking to her. C.J. does her nervous-yammering thing into the phone about the fact that the FBI director said the whole Shaw Island thing would be cleared up an hour ago, and it's not, and now here's Jed, taking questions on TV at the Ugandan event. Jed takes a question about Cuba, though, and he answers it about as you would expect. C.J. allows on the phone with Josh that Jed's answer, while not exactly what she would have said, wasn't bad. Just then, Rickie comes to C.J.'s door and says, "They have it." She hangs up, and Rickie elaborates that somebody just called in to a radio station from Shaw Island and gave up the fact that federal agents were about, and that there was gunfire. Rickie interviews that C.J. is "a great teacher," and that his job is "to protect her...to help her protect the president." Rickie, you are so much too good for this episode.
Back in C.J.'s office, Rickie tells C.J. that he pulled records from "Casey Creek" for her, and she mutters back that the FBI thinks that there will be cameras at Shaw Island shortly, and she's predicting aerial coverage in twenty minutes. As they stroll purposefully down the hallway, she tells him, "Hey, poker face. When it breaks, try to look surprised." He smiles back at her. FNG announces that, twenty-three minutes after C.J.'s prediction, the first aerial coverage of the Shaw Island incident showed up. We move around the bustling press room, where Brock, among others, is working the phones. Do you think I would look good with pigtails? Because I'm looking at a Wizard of Oz poster on my wall and wondering whether I should wear pigtails or, in the alternative, more dresses with aprons attached to them.
Now, C.J. repeats: "There's a misconception that I'm here to stymie reporters, or to mislead the public, to spin or even hide the truth. When in fact, any good press secretary aims to do just the opposite." So now that's two clips that have been heard twice -- what's more, it's two clips that have been heard twice each that say essentially the same thing. So C.J. has now reiterated four times that she tries to tell the truth, despite the perception to the contrary. Now, C.J. runs into another reporter who asks if she has a comment on the dog. This is one of the stupidest parts of the whole thing, as the camera guy appears to be across a couple of rooms from C.J., and while I might believe she's got a microphone on, the other guy obviously wouldn't, and he sounds just as clear as she does. Somehow I don't think Documentary Guy would be allowed to wander the halls with a boom microphone on a forty-foot telescoping pole. Anyway, C.J. doesn't know what the reporter means about the dog, and he tells her that apparently, the Holed-Up Family Dog has been shot by an FBI agent. "Is this going to be another Casey Creek?" he asks her. "Off the record?" she says. "I hope not." If the dog did get out of the episode at this point, he would be the luckiest of us.
Now, FNG gives us the long back story of Casey Creek, and if you know the story of Ruby Ridge, you can basically just understand that it's that. FBI mishandles standoff, wife of suspect is shot, president is dogged by investigations. According to the documentary, this event "haunted the new president's first term." Apparently it didn't haunt the first term all that incessantly, considering that we've never heard of it, despite having seen most of Jed's first term. We watch vintage news footage of the FBI director testifying before Congress, some newscaster saying he isn't cooperating, and then we go to a press conference in which C.J. has horrible-looking permed hair, because apparently C.J. was a complete frump up until the day the show started tracking her. Speaking of which, do you think I would look good in a yellow plastic floppy hat? Because I also have a poster from Singin' In The Rain. Oh, but C.J....right, anyway, she mishandles the Casey Creek press briefing, stumbling and misspeaking and looking so nervous that you'd think she'd never spoken in public before. Furthermore, I'm aware that they think the constant flicker when they show old TV footage looks "authentic" because of the refresh rate and all that yakkety-yak, but I've never seen a documentary that shows that flicker every time it shows old TV footage, which makes sense, considering that watching it is like being hit with a flyswatter three times per second. It feels like a good third of this episode includes Flicker-Vision in at least part of the frame, and it would create a real headache for me if I didn't already have one from the writing, acting, and camera work.
And now, we see C.J.'s interview clip again: "I see my job as making sure the press and, through them, the public is well-informed. I tell them the truth. [pause] That's my goal." That's the third clip that's been shown twice, and sure enough, it says basically the same thing as the other two. Is six times enough on that sentiment?
Teasers about the past creating "a new crisis." And then...oh, blessed commercials.
We return to news coverage (Flicker-Vision!) of Shaw Island, where everyone is talking about the shooting of the family dog. C.J. watches old tape of herself doing the Casey Creek press conferences, and while Josh notes how young she looks, she can only wonder how old she's going to look by the same time tomorrow. Josh then apologizes for not telling her about the dog, although it "wasn't for comment anyway." Okay, now we're watching Josh and C.J. through the window of her office AND another window, the nearer of which has the news coverage reflected in it, so the entire shot is flickering. Swat, swat, swat, goes the flyswatter against my forehead. Josh and C.J. chat about her frustration that they didn't brief her fully, and Josh says that the director "was adamant." As C.J. leaves to go to the "podium," Josh distractedly tells her that Leo wanted him to pass something along, but C.J. cuts him off, saying, "I know my line." As she leaves, Josh calls out, "I think you look better now," and she agrees.
Press room. FNG explains that whatever the "storms," the daily press briefing remains a "centerpiece." Now, a long interview with "Herb Morris," another alleged ex-press guy, follows, in which he tells old stories about how it used to be in the press corps, which register right around "coma-inducing" on the Rip-Roaring Tales Of The Olden Days Fascination Scale. He reveals really exciting things like the fact that there didn't used to be a press room, so they hung out in the lobby. He must be joking. The lobby? Incredible! How did I not learn that in a history class somewhere? You'd think someone would have told me! Notebooks, blah dee blah. And sometimes, if nothing was going on, the press secretary would come out and tell them there was nothing to report and they could go home. "That couldn't happen now," he says sadly. Poor Herb. He has seen much in his life as an imaginary reporter.
C.J., Andrew, and Rickie walk toward her press conference, and she tries to get a final answer on how Holed-Up Guy's name is pronounced. And then we get more of Sheffield, who talks about how sometimes, he watches press secretaries on television, and "it all comes back," and he's really glad it's not him. I have a feeling that's how Deborah felt when she watched this very episode. In fact, I know it was, because she told me. Sigh. C.J. takes questions about Shaw Island, and now, of course, she handles it blandly and competently, including the issue of the dog, and whether that means the agents fired the first shot. As phones in the room start to ring in the middle of a question (they don't make you turn your cell phone off?), Carol hands C.J. a note, and she scuffles away from the microphone, apologizing as she does. The reporters, it turns out, are getting the same information she is, which is that the FBI has a guy currently doing a briefing, in which he is breaking the news that one of the Holed-Up Children was injured during the initial confrontation, and Holed-Up Guy is allowing an ambulance to come and pick the child up. C.J. looks stunned, and is unprepared for the avalanche of questions that logically follows the FBI briefing, which she and the press have watched together on a monitor adjacent to the press room. C.J. ditches the press and runs straight to Donna, who tells her that Josh (I guess) isn't available, because he's in with Leo. At Leo's, Margaret in turn tells C.J. that they're in with Jed. Her clip plays again: "The breakneck pace we live at, the twenty-four-hour news cycle, is this good for the country? Is it inescapable? How do we reflect? Get perspective?" Is that clip so enlightening at this point in the tale that you'd need to underscore it by running it again? I vote "no," but of course, I'm barely watching, because I'm folding origami cranes. She runs to the Office of O, where she has an exchange with Charlie that I can't make out any of, and the upshot is that she can't go into the meeting, so Charlie closes the door in her face. She paces in Debbieville for a moment, then leaves. Toby interviews that this is called a "closed hold," where somebody or other isn't allowed to know something for some reason. Apparently, it's not uncommon for this to zzzzzzz -- oh, sorry. Apparently, it's not uncommon for this to happen from time to zzzzzzzz -- damn! Blah blah blah, Toby claims it's happened to everybody. There. I got through it. That's what happens when I run out of distractions. The origami had me in a really Zen place.
And now, just in case Allison Janney doesn't have her Emmy nod yet, we watch from a distance as she talks to her father, who is apparently barely able to follow the conversation but upset that she's not coming to see him as he was hoping. She tearfully apologizes, much as we've seen her do before, and footage plays of her on the roller coaster. I wonder if that's a metaphor. No, really. I wonder. Because I have never seen television or the movies before, and symbolism is a new concept to me, and I am therefore only guessing. I mean, it's very sad and everything, but seriously, we've seen this. And we've seen it covered better, and in more detail, and in more depth, and not shot through a couple of windows from a hundred feet away. There's just no point other than the scenery-chewing value.
C.J. gathers herself and leaves her office, and we watch more news footage on Flicker-Vision. The pundits have descended, and they're talking about the lack of leadership, and about the "racial profiling" and so forth. FNG says that C.J. was kept "at arm's length" during the crisis. Sheffield now explains about the flak jacket that gets handed down from each press secretary to the , and how it has little notes in the pocket to provide encouragement. And traditionally, nobody shares what's written on any of the notes. You know, Deborah gave me...well, never mind. I think she's had enough muumuu jokes. Which sucks, because that's probably the best opportunity ever. I could have invented the "flak muumuu."
Elsewhere, in C.J.'s office, Carol pops in and tells her that Agent Casper is here. C.J. looks shocked. Agent Casper is also, by the way, the mysterious benefactor from the last two episodes of Sports Night, and even for being a fictional character who saved a fictional show when the real show could not be saved, I adore him. ["Others may know him as Clark Gregg." -- Wing Chun] When Casper comes in, C.J. starts to say nervously that it might be a bad idea for him to be there, but he says that Jed, the AG, and the FBI Director all asked him to come see her, so it's probably okay. He starts by apologizing on behalf of the director for the injured-child briefing that they didn't warn her about. They suddenly appear to have two cameras -- what's up with that? Anyway, Agent Casper tells her not to worry, it won't happen again. She asks why, and he makes her get rid of the cameras. So of course, we don't get to see this conversation. Because it would be interesting, and that would ruin the tone of the episode.
I make little press secretaries out of modeling clay and pound them flat with my fist.
FNG says that the press corps sat around as the Shaw Island thing developed, because there was a lull in the action and no information being provided. As Carol answers a question about whether Agent Casper is briefing C.J., C.J. interviews that "there's an inherent aspect of spin" to her job, because it's like debate -- "you don't argue for the other side." She insists that it's not a "cover-up" just because you don't "advertise your vulnerabilities." I would say that totally depends, no? If you're the only one who knows about something, say, criminal that your administration has done, failing to "advertise" it is most definitely a cover-up. We watch C.J. reprimand Carol for letting people wander around or something, which doesn't make a lot of sense to me since Agent Casper was announced, but...whatever. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now, so I think I need to learn to let things slide.
If you can believe this we now have to listen to the "stymie reporters, mislead the public" clip for the THIRD time. The THIRD TIME. And it really wasn't ever interesting. And then we have to hear the "articulate the message" clip for the THIRD time. In her office, C.J. watches the monitor intently as the Shaw Island thing develops. "You waiting for something?" Documentary Guy asks her. "You wanted to see my day; this is my day," she answers. Yep. Hearing herself say the same thing eight times. That's her day.
Outside C.J.'s office, Carol stops Rickie and tells him that a reporter just told her that Rickie went on the record and commented. He says he didn't. He says he was rescheduling an appointment for C.J., not saying anything on the record. Carol snots that his job is just to say "no comment." Is Carol Rickie's boss? Because she doesn't seem like she is, in which case she should take it to C.J., not boss Rickie around. Anyway, she's pulled aside to receive the information that Mrs. Holed-Up Guy isn't Yemeni-American, she's from Detroit. Carol wants to know if that information is out yet, and the guy doesn't think so. Suddenly, Rickie points out that "they're moving," and when everybody looks up, they see on the monitors that the ambulance is preparing to pick up the injured Holed-Up Kid, and the EMTs are walking the stretcher toward the Holed-Up Cabin. As they approach the cabin, one of the news guys reports "an explosion or a flash" that results in a puff of smoke coming up from the trees. There are also reports of gunfire. Agents are storming the cabin. Chaos ensues. The press throws questions at C.J. as she runs by. Flicker-Vision continues, just showing the smoke plume for long and boring seconds. I start looking on my bookshelves for a really good, interesting book I could use to hit myself over the head until I'm unconscious.
We see C.J. emerging from the Office of O with Jed, talking about the prep work she'll be doing for him regarding tomorrow's set of expected questions. For the moment, though, she's taking him to meet the "Eagle Rangers," the Boy Scout types who have finally arrived after getting lost earlier in the day on the way to the White House. As Jed asks the Eagle Rangers whether they'd mind staying another night at the Marriott, C.J. wanders off to huddle with Carol. But then she and Carol are behind Jed as he talks to the Eagle Rangers, so...I don't know. FNG says that the administration went on with its day following the explosion (as you do), and that little information was forthcoming, so as to whether there was contention over how to handle it, they "could only speculate." Jed dismisses the Eagle Rangers, promising to see them tomorrow in the Rose Garden. He then takes C.J. aside and asks her if she's holding up. "Oh, yes, sir," she chirps.
C.J. interviews that she "serves two masters." The truth, I guess, and the president? The president and the public? There's a good chance that that would count as the ninth run through that same thought, depending on what she means. It's too bad that you can't tell. Anyway, C.J. does a briefing where she introduces Agent Casper. He announces that the standoff has been concluded and that Holed-Up Guy recovered. They discovered that explosives were wired all around the cabin. Holed-Up Guy was shot in the shoulder, but he's now in stable condition. As it turns out, the whole thing started when the agents came to serve an arrest warrant, and Holed-Up Guy shot at them and released his attack dog. One agent has bad dog-related injuries, and he's in critical condition. The littlest Holed-Up Kid was injured, it turns out, by flying glass, and will be fine. As we hear this press briefing from Agent Casper, we see C.J. in her office, reading a little note that seems to have come from the flak jacket of legend. She smiles a little after reading it. I have a feeling the note says, "The show is almost over."
FNG explains the historical perspective, which is that the positive outcome (only one dog-mangled FBI guy! Can I get a "booyah!"?) deflected any negative reaction to the incident early on. It turns out, according to one of the Flicker-Vision newscasters, that it was the FBI that used the "flash-bang" to end the standoff while they were rescuing the kid. Carol then comes in to tell C.J. various things -- it turns out that the First Lady donated the dress to the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (which, incidentally, I love), all is well with the Vatican people (one of whom asked Carol out), and so forth. We watch the staff folks taking off later for home, and C.J. telling them all good night. Carol is asked in her interview whether C.J. is a good boss, and she insists that C.J. is "the best boss." She says she "couldn't have a better job." Except maybe C.J.'s. She says C.J. is her "mentor." ["Imagine how much Carol would like C.J. if C.J. didn't make Carol bring her coffee." -- Wing Chun]
FNG goes on to say that, weeks later, the charges against Holed-Up Guy included conspiracy to commit domestic terrorism, as it appears that he was part of a bigger ring of baddies. Leo comes to C.J.'s office and congratulates her on how she handled the briefing. He tells her that some blueprints were confiscated. That's kind of creepy, of course. Leo talks about what a big catch it was for the FBI, and C.J. asks if it's good enough "to put Casey Creek in the past." Leo says, "We'll see," and helps C.J. with her coat. Well, sort of. He does it rather ineptly, so C.J. winds up doing it herself. Holed-Up Guy has, as FNG explains, since died in prison after being convicted.
C.J. interviews that sometimes you just "let yourself be beaten up," because that's the job. We then watch her leaving work, as FNG voices over that the FBI Director remains controversial, and that C.J. is still the only woman to have served two terms as White House press secretary. So...I guess that removes any possibility that Jed or C.J. can be genuinely considered to be in peril at any time, huh? I hope they never expected to build any tension around either of those issues. Gotta love those terrible gimmicks that do long-term damage to your show.
Fade to black. Yaaay! Thank you for sharing my pain. I think we've really grown much closer as a result, don't you?