The Newsroom
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At the end of “Election Night, Part 1,” the first hour of The Newsroom’s two-part season finale, Jeff Daniels takes his seat behind the anchor desk on the night of the 2012 presidential election. Turning to Constance Zimmer, playing a former Romney staffer-turned-cable pundit, Daniels gives the following instruction: “Take me apart.” It’s a cliffhanger moment, and an ambiguous one. Is Daniels saying this because he knows that being challenged and humbled is the only way to regain the trust of his audience following a phony “special report” about American misdeeds in Afghanistan? Is he acting out his self-loathing, because he feels that he’s let down the public and those close to him, and screwed things up with Emily Mortimer, the producer for whom he still carries a torch? Or is he just looking for a way to juice up an under-prepared network’s live coverage of an unsurprising presidential election?
It’s a moot point, because Zimmer can’t think of anything really bad to say about Daniels. When, late in the evening, she brings up his political allegiances, Daniels tees off on the accusation, using it as an excuse to deliver a stirring speech about what being a Republican—a real, non-crazy Republican—means to him. It basically boils down to believing in the free-market system and strong defense, but not being homophobic or hating Democrats, and recognizing the value of the two-party system. When she realizes what she’s done, Zimmer looks away from Daniels and stares down at her lap; maybe she’s trying not to throw up on the air, though it’s at least as likely that she’s meant to be chastened by the truth of what he’s saying. At the end, he reaches out to her, because he knows that she, too, is one of those elusive beings, a “good” Republican—and that’s why she can’t really follow his instructions.
The Newsroom’s first season weathered a lot of criticisms: for its liberal sanctimony, for its substitution of hindsight for drama, and for Aaron Sorkin’s pretensions toward showing TV journalists how to do their jobs. But even its harshest critics might have gotten a little excited at the prospect of seeing how a writer-creator as smart, talented, and self-conscious as Sorkin would address those complaints in a second season. A few wise cosmetic changes were made: The worshipful glimpses of Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite, and Chet Huntley were removed from the opening credits. The News Night crew was sucked into a big, false story with major ramifications, one modeled on the Operation Tailwind scandal that befell CNN and Time in 1999. However, there’s one telling difference between the two: The Tailwind story was about something that supposedly happened almost 30 years earlier, in Vietnam, during the Nixon presidency.