By Miss Alli
Previously on The West Wing: There are no "previously"s this week, so apparently, they're taking the position that nothing happened. It's good to know that the publicity department is keeping up.
"The Stormy Present," title-cards the title card, as a stern rumble of lower-register stringed instruments greets us ominously. We fade in on a hand carefully scratching out a letter, not only in longhand, but with a fountain pen. Therefore, you know it is a letter in which very wise things are said. Idiots only write in ball-point. "AMERICA," the hand writes. Call it a crazy guess, but based on that hint, I am going out on a limb to predict that this letter is wise and patriotic. I don't think it's about, you know, scurvy, or how to get tomato soup stains out of a white t-shirt. Unless, I guess, it actually turns out to say, "I AM ERIC AND I DON'T HAVE SCURVY AND I CAN TELL YOU HOW TO CLEAN THAT SHIRT."
Anyway, the thing you know, it's Monday at 6 PM-TCT (Title Card Time), and one Jed Bartlet is futzing with his cufflinks at the pedestal sink in front of the mirror as he prepares for an evening out. A phone rings, and of course, he has a phone on the windowsill of the bathroom. As you probably do, too. After answering, Jed says, "Please, tell President Lassiter I'll call him back; I'm late as it is...I know he called before." That is some awkward exposition. It's like a scene on Laverne & Shirley where somebody answers the phone and says, "What? My apartment was robbed? What do you mean they took everything? Yes, officer, I know I live in a dangerous neighborhood. What do you mean, 'Was the door locked?' Yes, I can come down in an hour and give a statement." It's okay for Garry Marshall when he's writing for Carmine Ragusa, but I expect a little better from a drama that has won as mystifyingly many Emmys as this one has.
Anyway, we revisit the Pale And Bony Hand Of Death, which is still writing. Or, I guess, writing again, having been cruelly snubbed by Jed in favor of additional cufflink-futzing. "OF ISLAM," the hand writes. Okay, now I really think it isn't about soup stains.
Back at the White House, meanwhile, Charlie reminds a bustling and tuxedoed Jed that he left Colonel Mustard in the study with the candlestick or something. Apparently, Colonel Mustard is a candidate to paint the official presidential portrait. (Sidebar: I can't let that remark go by without directing you to the recently-unveiled (and oh-so-fabulous) official portrait of former Minnesota governor Jesse Ventura. Note that it contains many things that remind Jesse of stuff he really likes, like a cigar, a military lapel pin, and light rail. Oh, and dark clouds signifying that the end is near. My friend Snowmobile Boy noted that it's a good thing he doesn't really like pie, or there would be a big sign in the background for Baker's Square. Isn't that portrait completely awesome in its magnificent, tacky splendor?) Anyway, Jed insists that the whole official-portrait business is stupid (Jesse Ventura: "Stupid? Did you see the light rail line behind me?"), and that Abby's the only one who cares, and that he's not doing it. See, he doesn't understand the significance of being president nearly as clearly as he would if, say, a former president abruptly shuffled off this mortal coil and went to meet his maker. (This part is implied.) Jed would only accept a very fine artist, he says, and he asks, "Who did Lincoln?" Oh, har, har. Jed does some more pretentious Lincoln-related yammering until Charlie "It's Leo" Young holds up a cell phone and says, "It's Leo."
The Pale and Bony Hand of Death writes, "FUNDAMENTALISM." Oh, goody. I can't wait.
Jed and Leo stroll toward the Oval Office, where "General Alexander is waiting." Jed says he should have brought his tie, then, and Leo says they've "got a situation." That happens a lot. In fact, it happens so often that they should have a special room for when that happens. In the Office of O, Alexander waits, and on arrival, Jed opens with a smart-ass remark about whether Alexander has a tie. There you go, Jed. Never enter a room without making sure everyone knows you're almost too bored to listen to anything they have to say. As it turns out, General Alexander is there to inform Jed that there are protestors in Riyadh demanding free speech, press, and popular elections. More important than your neckwear issue, eh, Grouchy McSnide?
I guess that the PBHD has finished writing, because now the camera is just skimming over his letter: "FOR AN AMERICAN EMPIRE...." Wait, if that was going to turn into a list of ingredients, I know some people who'd like the camera to show the rest of it. ["I think I know that one: 'Mix one cup liberty with three teaspoons of justice. Add one informed electorate. Baste well with veto power...Stir in two cups of checks, sprinkle liberally with balances.'" -- Wing Chun] General Alexander voices over, "It's in the streets," and that brings us back to the Office of O, where Alexander explains that they don't know for sure who's running the protests, but that they are something new for Riyadh. Jed asks for comment from Leo, who says that "free speech is good...a free-for-all for a quarter of the world's oil reserves laced with rabid anti-American sentiment." As is customary for the Bartlet administration, Leo is neither Republican nor Democrat; he is a Glibertarian. "Yeah," Jed mutters with great import.
The PBHD seals the letter and puts it in a drawer, addressed to -- wow! -- "Jed Bartlet, The President of the United States, The White House." It's good of Lassiter to provide extra clues in case nobody knew who Jed Bartlet was, or where to find him. Lassiter is a lot like the title cards that way, actually. I love hints, because I am not very bright. I guess I must be this show's target demographic.
Credits! I've never gotten over Shack's theme lyrics, by the way, because I hear them in my head every time I hear this music. "A shooooow...about the Prez..." Hee. Go read them again. We can all suffer together.
As C.J.'s walking away from the Backslash correspondent, she runs into Toby. Toby's already in his tux and ready for the theater, which stuns C.J. a little. After a little banter, she gets him to admit that he's dodging Jed and the inevitable Lincoln-fest. C.J. asks Toby what he knows about mind control at the Pentagon. He mumbles about an old program that was in place at one point, but before he can say very much, Josh appears and starts bitching that POTUS will be dragging out the Lincoln questions later. Toby wanders off, and Donna comes up, putting her hand on Josh's shoulder to steady herself while she adjusts her shoes. She mumbles that mind control worked on Freddy Briggs when she was sixteen, who was "[her] first," and then she stops and says, "Wait, was he my first?" Yeah. It's funny, but it's completely out of character. On the other hand, hey, what are the odds that the producers are abruptly going to start caring about that sort of thing at this point? Josh, of course, acts shocked that Donna lost her virginity at sixteen -- someone, call the Chastity Police and lock the harlot away! -- but she keeps walking, which is to her credit, because Josh either needs to do something about this already or quit acting like he's going to, because this possessive jealousy shit he does is really unfair, not to mention kind of mean and manipulative.
C.J. asks Josh and Donna why she's the only one who isn't dressed, and Donna asks if her dress was stolen. "No," C.J. says. "Well," Donna clumsily segue-exposits, "a copy of the Bill of Rights was stolen." She explains that each colony originally had its own copy of the Bill of Rights, and that North Carolina's was swiped by a Connecticut soldier at the end of the Civil War. And now North Carolina wants it back. Josh throws a random insult at his home state of Connecticut, calling it "the Nutmeg State." ["Believe it or not, 'The Nutmeg State' actually is a legit Connecticut state nickname." -- Wing Chun] Apparently, the FBI seized the document and has it now, and both states want it, and they're going to federal court. Probably, none of these people would care about this matter, except that POTUS heads for Raleigh week, where people are "already handing out flyers." Josh and Donna flirt some more, to a look of affectionate bafflement from C.J. as she walks off. C.J. goes into her office and starts closing the blinds so that she can change into her dress. On television, some guy is talking about how a civil war in Saudi Arabia would be a disaster, and then we continue swinging around C.J.'s office until we see Toby, munching snacks on the couch. She jumps when she sees him. "Was there something you wanted?" she asks, apparently expecting an answer other than "to see you naked." "World peace?" Toby says. C.J. kicks him out, saying that if he wants to hide from Trivia Jed, he'll have to do it somewhere else. Toby reluctantly leaves.
In Leo's office, Jed strolls in and asks Leo if he's waiting for his date. "She's late," Leo says, and Jed says that Leo's date is young enough to be his daughter, and it becomes obvious that Leo's date is Mallory, and ho-ho-ho, I just love date-daughter jokes. (Michael Douglas doesn't get why it's funny, either, by the way.) Leo reports that the protests are growing and spreading. There's a dance of diplomatic flurrying going on, so, as Jed puts it, "we're not the only ones who think this is a thing."
Elsewhere, an elegantly dressed Angela runs into Josh, who makes noises in the direction of coercing her to sit with Jed and take the trivia heat so that he doesn't have to. Just then, though, C.J. emerges from her office in a pretty cranberry number and starts blaming Josh for missing easy questions on occasions and provoking outcomes that are even worse. Josh denies missing any easy questions, but C.J. insists that because of these alleged missed questions, they were all forced to tromp downstairs at Ford's Theater and have the museum opened. Heh. Donna arrives, and insists that she's nobody's stooge: she's not sitting with Jed either. "I drew the short straw last year," she harumphs. Heh again. Toby walks up just then, muttering that Jed will undoubtedly start with Lincoln's First Inaugural, and then move on to the letter he wrote to the woman who lost all her sons. Not-very-good banter ensues, until Jed himself shows up and reveals that he's not going to ask questions this year. Rather than asking questions, he spews an unending stream of trivia and questions as they all head out. He certainly never does get tired of hearing himself talk. Jed winds up "favoring" Angela by letting her ride with him, which of course is what everybody else wanted anyway. There were a couple of cute lines in that scene, but it took much, much too long. Like Saturday-Night-Live-sketch too long.
Leo heads out of his office and runs smack into Mallory, resplendent in a mossy green wispy thing that complements her red hair very nicely. Leo says he hardly recognizes her; she not-subtly complains that it's his fault they don't see each other; he vows to make it right with this very fine evening out. She mentions a job she's taking in Tanzania. They start to leave. The Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters have had some disagreement about whether she's serious about taking the Tanzania job, and I can't really determine the answer myself, but it's safe to say that when your audience can't tell whether your character is being sarcastic, you have script problems.
Just then, Secret Service Guy walks by Leo and mutters, "The president's dead." Okay, that? Would not happen. Not that I expect perfect realism, but...come on, now. After a brief stricken look hits Leo's face, Jed comes around the corner -- oh, whew, he's not dead! -- and reports gravely that Lassiter has apparently taken his hip surgery harder than expected, because he is now not so much alive. We fade out on the presidential seal. I wonder if that's supposed to be noteworthy.
We blink, and it is Tuesday at 10 AM-TCT. We hear before we see Josh and Toby strolling down the hall, talking about how Lassiter was a horrible conservative nightmare with a terrible wife and such. Toby insists that he will write no eulogy, but Josh predicts that with Toby "riding shotgun on Air Force One," it's likely he'll be pressed into service. As he passes C.J., Toby refers to Lassiter's death with the very tacky "All good things must come to pass." What's stupid about that comment, aside from the fact that it's tacky, is that no guy who had been in politics for very long would cheer for a guy's death just because he was a political opponent, unless the guy had a reputation for being a horrible human being as well, which isn't indicated here. Many politicians are good friends with people with whom they have literally not one smidgen of ideology in common, and everyone who has actually ever met a wide range of politicians knows that there are good guys and assholes in all parts of the spectrum, so the idea that Toby would cheer Lassiter's death just because he was conservative, even very conservative? Without providing more explanation, it's just cheap and dumb. Saying "Republican" and "conservative" a lot doesn't provide a motivation for Toby to be gloating over a guy's death.
C.J., Toby, and Josh meet with Leo and the military's Cruise Director In Charge Of Presidential Bucket-Kicking, and they sit through a lot of explanation of exactly what we do when a president dies, which is inserted for the purpose of informing you that there are all kinds of special protocols that go into effect and that the death of a president is a very important thing and that it should be taken seriously and that it has meaning and that it might teach us all a thing or two now and then if you get the hammer I am putting to your head, and I'm pretty sure that you unquestionably do, even if you are dead yourself. Leo gives up that Lassiter's funeral will be at his Presidential Library, and POTUS, for good or for ill, will be giving one of the eulogies. Leo will not be traveling, because he will be "monitoring the situation in Riyadh." C.J. has to stay behind as well, so Toby is going, and he's writing the eulogy, and Leo doesn't want to hear him bitch. Josh exposits that the lawyers on the Bill of Rights abduction are coming in to see him, and Leo remarks that this seems rather unimportant in the grand scheme of dead presidents and Saudi Arabian outbreaks of democracy.
This is probably as good a time as any to point out that the story of the purloined Bill of Rights calls to mind -- and I have no idea if it's the inspiration or not -- the rather fascinating story of the Confederate flag that the First Minnesota Volunteer Infantry captured at the Battle of Gettysburg. Basically, by the time (around 1900) that the War Department decided to go for "reconciliation" by ordering that the battle flags in the custody of the War Department be returned to the states from which they came (in the case of this flag, this would be Virginia), this particular flag had been, um, "rescued" from the War Department by a member of the Minnesota First, who had brought it home to the tundra. (Or so they say.) In the late 1990s, a group of Virginia Civil War re-enactors became involved and started a push to make Minnesota give it back. By that time, it had spent about a hundred years in the custody of the Minnesota Historical Society (probably the finest state historical society in the country, as it happens), which was not inclined to pack it up and send it back, since, you know, we won it in a war and stuff. I should point out that on a tour of the History Center, I got to see this flag. Not behind glass twenty feet away, either. I stood by the edge of the drawer, and they opened it, and three inches from my arm was the raw, uncovered cloth edge of a Confederate flag with bloodstains on it. Pretty profound, no fooling. It's currently resting comfortably in the most climate-controlled environment since Biosphere II, as you can imagine, and as far as I know, Virginia and Minnesota are still fighting over it. Both states consider it a piece of their respective histories, and they don't appear to be close to working it out. On one hand, somebody stole it and gave it to us. On the other hand, you don't usually get your flag back at the end of a war, and packing and transporting something that delicate when you don't absolutely have to is not recommended, as I understand it. Anyway, an interesting piece of trivia.
Leo tells Josh to introduce Donna to the Cruise Director In Charge Of Presidential Bucket-Kicking, and then he sends Josh and Angela on their way. When they're gone, C.J. asks Leo about the mind-control business she was being quizzed on yesterday. "Tell me we're not conducting mind-control research at the Pentagon," she says. "We're not conducting mind-control research at the Pentagon," Leo replies calmly. C.J. pauses. "You're not doing it on me right now?" she asks. Hee. I do love Allison Janney. Leo allows that there might be something going on at DARPA. C.J. acts like she kind of isn't sure what DARPA is, which is another rather substantial credibility gap, because I know that, and I technically know less about the federal government than the White House press secretary. C.J. asks if DARPA is where you find the guys who do "flying cars and x-ray vision," and Leo says that they're also the guys who did "GPS, stealth technology, and the internet." True, that. Who says everything good is invented by private enterprise? C.J. continues fretting over mind control, and Leo tells her just to call the DoD and ask. That's what I always do when I have questions. How long to cook spaghetti, the capital of Vermont...I just call the Department of Defense and ask. They're so helpful.
We swing over to Air Force One's conference room, where Toby is sitting miserably in front of his laptop, trying to write a eulogy for a despised Republican whose death he has already lauded. Charlie walks by and asks if he's okay. "Do I look okay?" Toby asks. "Not so much," Charlie says. Charlie adds that Bobby Bodine was looking for Toby. "Enemies without and within," Toby mutters as he gets up and leaves the room. You know, Charlie's doing so well in that Potted Plant job, it's only a matter of time before he gets a promotion. Like to Floor Lamp, maybe.
We now see POTUS strolling down the outer corridor of Air Force One with former President D.W. Newman. Damn, Cromwell is a tall dude. I really was not as aware as I should be of what a monster he is. No wonder Babe looked so short. Anyway, he notes that the plane's been renovated, but says he doesn't care much for the color. Jed says he should see what they've done to the residence. Heh. Newman remarks that he got the NSC briefing this morning, and Jed mumbles that he's not wild about the fact that they give that out. Newman says that the protestors are talking democracy, but Jed insists that it's hard to tell exactly what it is they're really after. Newman chastises Jed for supporting the royal family, which is getting rich off the oil while oppressing the masses and supporting radical Wahabists. Oooh, good one, actually. Newman says that the U.S. made that bed itself, and that while they had little choice during his presidency but to live with it, it's now time to get moving toward a different system for Saudi Arabia. "Trust the people, Jed. They'll make rational decisions." From the corner, we hear Toby: "In the deserts of Arabia, are there any rational decisions?" he chuckles.
Oh, for the love of...can you believe that line? You know, to my eye, they either need to do a better job of confronting the fact that Toby has become a bigot, or they need to stop writing those lines for him. At this point, every time they do this, it comes off to me as a cheap sop to the people who think the show is too liberal, and as a disturbing implication that even good liberals know deep in their hearts that it's secretly more okay to make fucked-up comments like that about people who live in "the deserts of Arabia" than it is to make them about people who live anywhere else. Not only that, but it makes me respect Jed less, and everyone else who works in the White House less, that they haven't taken the guy by the collar by now and told him that they're not interested in listening to him spout off on this anymore, and that it's time for him to shut the hell up. I'm just thoroughly exhausted by the casual, tossed-off, tragically hip way this show tries to have it both ways by peppering its melodramatic odes to democracy and equality and freedom with ignorant cracks about the current disfavored minority. It's not something they've done once, or twice, or three times, either. It's a pathology. Every time they touch Muslims, or Saudi Arabia, or "Qumar" (so convenient, that), it's like they're afraid that they're going to get cooties of some sort if they don't inoculate themselves with little asides that they believe they can pass off as something other than what they are, which is bullshit. And don't tell me they do it knowingly and intelligently and don't really mean it and are doing it for effect, either. You saw how "knowing" they were back at "Isaac and Ishmael," and I've never seen any indication that they've learned a damn thing since. I never cease to be amazed by the earnestness of this show's superiority complex and its firm conviction that it transcends television and speaks truth. Because these days, much of what it actually speaks is the universal language of cheap-ass pandering, in which I will admit it has demonstrated remarkable fluency. It's just...enough already.
To wit, Jed says absolutely nothing to Toby about his comment except "Raiding the pantry?", a mild criticism of the fact that Toby is drinking. Jed introduces Toby to Newman, and Toby mentions that he voted for Newman "a couple of times." Newman doesn't say anything about Toby's remark either, simply saying that Toby seems to disagree with him about how to handle the protests. Toby follows up by saying that it just seems to him that "most Muslims on the Arabian peninsula believe they must choose between the law of Allah and the laws of man." I guess he gets that from his intimate knowledge of Muslims on the Arabian peninsula. Finally, Newman gets out in the ring: "I see, Muslims don't make rational decisions, only fundamentalist ones." Toby: "Without strong guidance, the popular elections could be a one-time event." Newman asks Toby if he's suggesting colonization, and Toby says not at all -- he's suggesting that they run away and do absolutely nothing. There is some banter about the British and their similarly poor record in the region, and then Charlie enters with news of a call from Leo. Because that's what Charlie is for. Toby gets his drink and leaves so that Jed can take the call. When he does (on speakerphone, with Newman still in the room), Jed learns that the protestors have now surrounded the Aramco facility. "They're picketing the Saudi oil headquarters?" Jed says. Again with the hilarious, distracting Exposition & Shirley show. Alexander points out to Jed that there are fifty Americans at that compound. Jed wants to know if anyone's at risk, and Leo says that, at this point, the protestors are just not letting anyone in or out. Jed also learns that the leaders of the protest appear to be rebellious royal-family outcasts.
Toby sits in a seat out in the plane, drinking some more, even though he does not appear to need any more to drink. He and Charlie are listening to Donna on the speakerphone as she relays to him the plans for the funeral. Suddenly, Toby complains that the plane is going down. "What?" Donna says, alarmed. Charlie throws in that they're landing to pick up Walken. Heh. Donna asks Charlie whether Toby has been drinking, and Charlie looks over at Toby, who makes a "don't tell" face. "I don't think so," Charlie lies. As Donna tries to get Toby to focus on the task at hand, Charlie swipes his bottle of booze and Toby starts singing "Suicide Is Painless." Asked if Toby is singing, Charlie says, "I don't think so" again. See, when they don't take themselves quite so seriously, they do a much better job with the writing, because that bit was sort of cute.
Back in the Flying Conference Room, Jed and Newman are still chatting with the Situation Room about the protestors. There are some diplomatic channels being pursued that seem to be at least somewhat promising, but there is also concern that they need to be able to evacuate the Americans from the compound if it comes to that. The advisors bicker over whether the protests are a real move for democracy or a disastrous advance by stealth fundamentalists. Basically, nobody in the group knows enough about the protestors to know what they really want, and nobody trusts the Saudi public to vote for a form of democracy that would be as acceptable to the U.S. as the royal family is. Jed directs them to work the diplomatic channels, but to do it fast, and get ready to go in with force if it doesn't work. Leo wants to know if he should tell the prince he's the one on the block if it goes bad, but Jed says no, that'll make it worse; Leo should tell him they're confident that the monarchy can solve it peacefully. "One hour, gentlemen," Jed says. "We're going to have to make a call." When the call is over, Jed turns to Newman: "There ought to be a warning sign when you hitch up to be leader of the free world." Newman smiles knowingly.
When we return from commercials, it's Thursday at 12:45 PM-TCT. Josh is sitting in the conference room when Angela enters tentatively. "What happened in here?" she asks. "I'm biased just because I'm from Connecticut," Josh says. After making a brief attempt to explain the situation straightforwardly, Josh blows up and admits that he thinks a state that denounced the Constitution and the Union has a lot of nerve asking for its copy of the Bill of Rights back. Angela volleys back that North Carolina and its ilk are the only reason there even is a Bill of Rights, because they're the states that insisted on it when New England thought it wasn't necessary. Josh asks Angela where she's from, and it turns out that she's from -- wait for it -- North Carolina. Josh gets up on his high horse about North Carolina's poor civil-rights record, and Angela is appropriately amused that Josh is attempting to lecture her on this point. I love it when anyone hands Josh his rhetorical head on a platter, so as you can imagine, I am all about Angela in this scene. He starts to rail again about how dare they blah blah blah, and mercifully, Angela cuts him off. "First, Josh," she says, "the Civil War wasn't just about slavery. It was about industry. Second, that's exactly why North Carolina needs an original copy on display in Raleigh -- to remind them. And third, Connecticut has the highest per-capita income in the country. They want the damn piece of paper so badly, why don't they just offer to compensate North Carolina?" As she's talking, MaryLou and Fairfax have managed to sneak in behind Josh, and they've overheard this last part. "Uh, we'd be willing to pay," Fairfax says frankly.
Cut back to Air Force One, where former President Glenallen "King Ralph" Walken is boarding with his dog. He and Jed greet each other warmly.
In a private room, Jed introduces Walken and Newman, although they've apparently met. The three sit down. Newman and Walken banter about Newman's distaste for Walken's politics, and then the banter turns bitter when Newman blames Walken for "the current situation." "Maybe I should have taken a longer vacation," Jed says. He tells Newman that "the old formulas don't work," and that they need to "make new choices." Wow, that's bold. And specific, too. Jed explains to Walken about the surrounding of the compound. "What do you think, Glen?" Newman throws in. "Should we invade?" Walken doesn't take the bait, but just says that "wholesale change in the region" is needed, and that this is an opportunity for that to happen: "We're the only superpower left; why wouldn't we go into Riyadh?" Newman asks if Walken is advocating world domination, and then starts complaining about the money that's spent on foreign oil and the money that's then spent on protecting the leaders of the countries where we get it. He thinks that too much has been sacrificed for stability's sake. The people hate the United States because it supports their oppressors. "I'm not sure we have the stomach for empire," Jed says, smirking inappropriately, as he is wont to do. Walken says he doesn't want empire. He just wants to go in and help put a temporary secular government in place, and then get out. Newman says no, he's convinced they should only support the insurgency from the bleachers, because they don't want to get into the habit of charging into every country in the region to set up new governments. Charlie comes in and says they're ready for takeoff. And that's all he has to say. Can you imagine how depressing it must be to be Dulé Hill in this situation? The guy's an Emmy nominee. They've busted him down to being a glorified extra. It's damn horrifying.
We move to C.J.'s office, where she is talking to the Milkman some more. She runs through some of his projects, including "gecko fingertip adhesion" and "Smell-o-Vision." Hee. He tells her that there is a project underway that reads brain activity and ferrets out deception. "So not mind control, mind-reading," she says. He tells her that this kind of "biosurveillance" is key to the new anti-terrorism initiative. Yeah, I'll bet. She freaks when he mentions mining health databases, even though he insists it will be anonymous. He describes the "Human Identification at a Distance" program, by which they can identify you by your physicality, including by something he calls "kinematics." "'Kinematics'?" C.J. asks. "Oh, yeah," the Milkman moans, as if he's just discovered a cache of porn. It really does help this rather anemic story (or "storyette," I guess) that Tobolowsky is such a pro. Anyway: kinematics, the Milkman explains, refers to stuff like identifying and analyzing people by their walk. Delightful. And you thought taking off your shoes to go through airport security felt intrusive. C.J. looks miserable, and just says she has to go. The Milkman turns and looks after her as she leaves the office, and she visibly freezes, afraid that he's watching her walk. Heh.
Jed approaches Toby on the plane and brings him what seems to be some coffee. He asks how Toby is, and Toby says that walking around the plane looking at "these great and terrible old men" has made him think that it would be a happy outcome if Saudi Arabia were prosperous and free, but that "the men on this plane spent the better part of the late twentieth century trying to play God in other countries. And the regimes they anointed are the ones that haunt us today." He pauses. "Yeah, I'm not making much progress with the eulogy." Jed tells Toby how Lassiter used to call him from time to time and offer advice and lectures, which Jed usually didn't care to listen to. Now that he realizes that other guys who have had this job are the only ones who know how it is, he wishes he'd paid more attention: "I wish I'd taken more of his calls." Charlie comes and tells Jed -- you guessed it -- that Leo is on the phone. POTUS gets up and leaves, and Toby looks at his computer and dives back into the eulogy. That was a very good scene. When Jed, or anyone else on this show, has even momentary glimmers of humility, it helps a great deal. It doesn't happen very often.
In the conference room, Jed hears from Leo that the compound with the Americans is still okay, but that there's fighting in Riyadh. "How serious?" Jed asks. "Bunch of imams throwing stones," Leo says. He also reports that they tracked down one of the diplomats they were looking for, who has vouched for the protest leader as a "true reformer" and not a fundamentalist in reformer's clothing. Jed tells him to move some more military in a little closer, and set up a chat with the prince. Leo starts to say something, but Jed cuts him off, saying, "It's time to tell him, Leo. Real change. He can start looking for a new kingdom."
It is "3 Hours Later" PM-TCT. We see a lovely expanse of green lawn covered with white chairs. Obviously, this is the setting for Lassiter's funeral, and it's a very lovely shot. One point for the cinematography. Toby is the only person sitting in any of the chairs, though, and before long, he gets a call. It's Donna, who is just relieved to hear that he isn't singing. She asks how it is there. He tells her not to ask, and she says, "Okay." But then, like the perceptive woman she is, she asks again. "Sad," Toby says. "It's just...sad."
Jed is strolling on the...I don't know, veranda, I guess, of the Lassiter Library when Charlie. Brings him. The phone. It's Leo. Leo reports that the National Guard (this is the Saudi National Guard) is fanning out around the protests. Jed asks how things are with the prince, and Leo reports that they actually haven't found him yet. Jed tells the military types to ready a peacekeeping mission, and tells Leo to get to the prince and warn him that if he acts against the protestors, Jed will cut off military sales to his forces. "If he can use American lives as a pretext for force, so can I," Jed says, and he hangs up just as Newman strolls up behind him. Newman and Jed go for a walk, Newman asking whether it seems likely that Lassiter actually read the books in his library. Newman lets go the interesting news that Lassiter called him when they all found out about Jed's MS. Jed guesses that Lassiter was mad, but Newman says it was actually he who was mad, and Lassiter who told him to shut up. They walk a little more, and Jed lets fly a Wilson quote. As usual, Jed's priority is to prove that he knows more trivia and can quote more historical figures than whomever is in the room with him. They agree that Wilson didn't have all the answers, and neither did Lassiter, and neither did Newman. "But at least at the end," Newman says, "we were all asking the right questions." Ooh, deep. There's a patented West Wing line for you. It's so artfully written that it's hard to keep your eye on the fact that they haven't provided enough story for it to make very much sense. They've essentially skipped to the payoff -- to the moral of the story -- without telling the story. What questions? What is he talking about? We haven't heard enough about what exactly Lassiter was thinking late in the game, and I'll give away right now the fact that we're not going to. It's like they know what point they're trying to make, but instead of making it, they act like it's already been made. And story-wise, that just doesn't work.
When we return from the commercial break, Walken is relaxing on a bench in a beautiful garden, where he is approached by Jed. They sit on a bench together, and you can just tell that they, too, will be having a deep talk. Walken tells a story about being with Lassiter on an occasion when they couldn't find a bathroom, and relates how they went in the bushes while Lassiter recited Lincoln's second State of the Union. Jed -- never able to let anyone else have a story to himself, ever -- once again charges in with his smarty-pants routine, quoting the Lincoln speech, including the title-rific bit about the way "the dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present." Walken admits that he lost touch with Lassiter late in the game, and wonders what he'd have to say about Riyadh. "Me, too," Jed says. And then he leaves.
CNN coverage of the Saudi situation brings us back to the White House, and specifically to C.J. and Josh, who are running into each other outside Leo's office. She asks him how the "Grant and Lee" situation is progressing, and he says that it's been worked out. "Freedom and the right to assemble, for one and all," he says as they watch the coverage of Riyadh. She tells him about her conversation with Milkman, and expresses some concern that DARPA isn't so hot on the freedom stuff. "They're just trying to protect you," Josh says, smirking. "Haven't you had enough trouble haggling over the Bill of Rights for one day?" C.J. asks. Josh advises her that probably, once the story gets out, the creepy DARPA programs will be halted, so what's the problem? "No more gate scrutiny," she says. "Democracy in action," he answers. Ah, yes. West Wing Story #1: Staff Member X Struggles With The Security/Freedom Tradeoffs Of Liberal Politics. By the way, Story #2 is Jed Learns That His Task Is Grave And Sometimes Overwhelming, and Story #3 is Someone Makes A Compromise And Later Ponders The Consequences, a/k/a The Ethics Of Getting Half A Loaf. There is no #4. Maybe season.
At any rate, Josh and C.J.'s oh-so-groundbreaking conversation is interrupted by Leo and Alexander, who are discussing the 30,000 troops who will be needed for peacekeeping. Leo asks how many they'll need if it's more than peacekeeping. Alexander doesn't answer. Leo sends him away. He asks C.J. and Josh whether what they need to talk to him about is important. Apparently in light of the talk of troops, they both say no and leave. Good call.
When they're gone, Leo sits down at his desk, and Mallory almost immediately arrives. She says she has something she needs to tell him. He asks if she's okay, and she says yes...and then no. She has a seat. And heaves a sigh. And talks in circles, and tries to leave, and stands up. And says, "Mom's getting remarried." Leo tells her, probably falsely, that he knows this already, because Mom already called him. Mallory says she was hoping he wouldn't be alone when he heard, but he assures her that he's fine. He leads her out of the office, and we stare at his empty chair. Nice touch.
Now, it is time for Lassiter's funeral. Taps. Flag. Mourners. Presidents. Widow. Twenty-one-gun salute.
Later, Jed is taking a stroll in the Lassiter library with the Widow Lassiter, who wanted to see him for a few minutes before he left. She assures him that Lassiter would have loved the eulogy, and then asks him who wrote it. Ouch. She says she had always thought that Jed hated her husband, which he counters was "a long time ago." Before he was dead, I guess. She mentions that she's aware that her husband tried to call Jed the other day, and Jed didn't call back. Ooh, guilt. She walks Jed into a private room that was apparently where Lassiter took his last breaths, judging by the hospital bed in the middle of everything. The Widow Lassiter laments the way her husband took to traveling when he was out of the White House, given that it took him away from her just the way being president had done. Jed's attention falls on a display of jars of dirt that Lassiter brought back from various battlefields. That's...an interesting collectible. I guess if you're going to have jars of dirt around, they should be jars of famous dirt. Mrs. Lassiter explains that this room -- an Oval Office mockup, weirdly enough -- became Lassiter's real home, and that he ate and slept and died in it. She then reaches into the drawer and pulls out the letter that Lassiter's PBHD was writing early in the episode. She hands it to Jed, and he opens it. The letter is absurdly eloquent and overwritten -- the sort of thing that would never be written by anyone but a professional writer striving for meaning. You know, there's a great myth that everyone becomes incredibly wise and articulate when they're close to death, and in my experience, it just isn't true. Stupid people often die stupid, and ignorant people die ignorant, and nasty people die nasty. I'm not sure I believe quite as strongly in miraculous near-death redemption as television and movies do. Anyway, the letter talks all about the importance of remaining human and touching people and whatever, and not trying to be all-powerful, but before long, we are cut off, because Charlie enters. He's got the phone, and -- you guessed it -- it's Leo! Unfortunately, Leo's news is not good -- violence broke out at the protest after a protestor (who is suspected of having secretly been a National Guard member in disguise) fired, and it all went bad. The protests are now breaking up, including the one at the compound, so the Americans appear to be safe. The leader of the protests, however -- the guy reputed to be a real reformer -- is gone. Jed looks stricken. "I guess this changes things," Leo says. "I'm not sure it changes anything," Jed replies. He hangs up, and then looks back at the letter, which says at the bottom: "Jed -- Go see Lincoln and listen." Oh, come on. Iowa isn't that corny.
But indeed, we see a grandiose shot of Jed ascending a staircase -- in this case, the steps up to the Lincoln Memorial. He stares up at Lincoln. Lincoln stares back rather passively. Jed's breath puffs in the cold. We pull back to gradually wider shots, none of which reveals anyone else in the shot, like, protecting Jed or escorting him or anything, so I guess he just walked out of the White House and wound up here. I hear presidents can do that. A super-wide gaze at the Lincoln Memorial ends the episode. It's quite a cliffhanger, as far as whether Lincoln is going to say anything. Jed is listening! Will Lincoln speak?
week: Charlie gets slapped. I guess he forgot to tell someone that Leo was on the phone.