The Stormy Present

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."

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.

Josh and Donna burst through a door, with her complaining about having to "babysit the First Widow" leading up to the funeral. She wants to know why Josh can't do it himself, and he reminds her that he's on tap for "a reenactment of Gettysburg." Heh. Donna asks when he started being concerned about the Bill of Rights (ooh, zing!), and he attributes it to "Whaler pride." (The Connecticut thing, dontcha know.) Donna gripes again about being made to do widow-sitting duty, and then she takes off.

Abruptly, we are in the Office of O, where Leo is meeting with the Saudi prince, and Jed is just on his way in. The prince thanks Jed for being such a nifty good friend, and sends best wishes from the royal family. Jed basically asks the prince to come to the point already, and the prince assures him that the royal family isn't concerned about the protests, which he writes off as the work of "a few errant schoolboys." Jed and Leo aren't buying. Jed asks the prince whether he thinks the protests might suggest that it's time for faster progress toward democracy, but the prince thinks (unsurprisingly) that slow and steady is the way to go. Who knew a monarchy would resist its own destruction? Hmm. Jed and Leo call the prince out about the municipal councils, called for by law, that have never been elected. The prince says, in a straightforward and vaguely threatening manner, that POTUS probably doesn't actually want to see what popular election results in Saudi Arabia would look like. Which is...probably true, but is a different problem. The prince says that while the royal family has its share of bad apples in the barrel, they're in favor of progress overall. Jed wants a promise that he'll be kept in the loop about the protests and any planned response, and the prince promises that it will be done. The prince leaves, reminding Jed that when the protestors denounce the royal family, they do it by calling them Americans. Hmm, uh oh. Yeah, that doesn't sound good. Jed and Leo look serious as we head to commercial.

Back from the break, it is Thursday, 8 AM-TCT, and Air Force One is taxiing in preparation for takeoff. The motorcade approaches the plane, and several car doors swing open in unison. Jed clambers out of one; James Cromwell clambers out of another. As Cromwell -- who is apparently playing "former President Newman" -- greets Jed, we hear Toby bitch that Newman decided to fly with the "GOP Geriatric Brigade." I loved their cover of "My Baby Does The Hanky-Panky," by the way. On what turns out to be the other end of the phone, Josh complains in turn about having to go into this meeting about the Bill of Rights theft. Toby, as he walks from the car to the plane, completes an endless, artless mess of exposition in which he identifies all the evil Republicans who are around who once worked for Lassiter. He doesn't identify all the non-evil Republicans. Oh, wait -- there probably aren't any. Silly me. "Who needs Dante?" Toby grouses. "I'm on my way to hell at 30,000 feet." Boo hoo, poor Toby.

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.

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.