It’s up to “West Wing” producer John Wells to tether Sorkin to the ground if he happens to take flight. Together, they’re producing one of the most dramatic, intelligent new shows of the season. By adding “West Wing” to his repertoire, Sorkin joins Wells in the fraternity of brand-name TV writers who create their own shows, with David E. Kelley as their uncontested president. More than ever, this season reinforces the common wisdom that in TV, unlike in movies, it’s the writers who get to be the real stars–they control the show and, aside from the biggest celebrities, they make the most money. (Last year Wells signed a development deal worth $25 to $30 million.)
In the vaunted tradition of Aaron Spelling, the highest-profile TV creators are franchising their names and building empires. On top of producing “West Wing” and “ER,” Wells has launched the paramedic/police drama “Third Watch.” Steven Bochco, Chris Carter and Kevin Williamson have created second shows, Dick Wolf is on his third, and Kelley, his fifth. They do imitate themselves–but that’s what they’re paid for. “Third Watch” is clearly “ER’s” younger, rowdier brother. And Sorkin’s plucked “West Wing” right from his screenplay for the hit film “The American President.” Both shows are racking up strong ratings and mostly positive reviews. Kelley’s new offerings, on the other hand, are taking a special beating; critics have given “Snoops” a nickname: “Oops.”
With new networks and cable productions popping up willy-nilly, the ever-expanding TV market is like a gaping maw demanding to be fed. Network execs throw money and multiple-series deals at the same bunch of people, and the talent pool has simply been stretched too thin. Sorkin, for example, turned down an “overwhelmingly generous” TV and movie deal from Disney and Imagine last year–and they made the offer even while the critically acclaimed “Sports Night” was tanking in the ratings.
The biggest question is how creators can juggle their different shows without one going splat (Oops!). Sorkin, 38, and Wells, 43, provide two examples–of completely different approaches. Sorkin’s creative cycle boils down to this: days of dread and all-out panic building to hyperproductive writing stints at odd hours. In lieu of writing, he visits his sets–where he’s told he’s “a genius” about 200 times a day. But like the folksy president he’s created for “West Wing,” Sorkin effectively asserts his power by pretending–and partly believing–he’s just one of the guys. Self-deprecating and solicitous, he remembers every underling by name. “Hey, Em, you feeling better? You look good, even if you’re feeling rotten.” To suggestions for script changes, it’s “You’re absolutely right. Thank you for calling me on that.”
Wells exudes a benign calm; NBC wouldn’t have committed to “West Wing” without his famed organizational power behind it. Even when he’s writing episodes of “ER” and “Third Watch” back-to-back, he still heads home to his wife and 2-year-old daughter by 6:30 every night. He’s characteristically unfazed by Sorkin’s comparative chaos: “Aaron loves to paint himself as a bad boy, but there’s always a script and it’s always good.”
Sorkin’s scripts would have once been anathema in television, back when the quick cut was everything–the playwright revels in long scenes and marathon speeches. But today, as the networks lose their market share and give up broadcasting for narrowcasting–where targeting niche demographics is more important than attracting the highest number of eyeballs–creators have more freedom to indulge their idiosyncratic styles. In Sorkin’s case, it’s effusive, high-speed eloquence. Actors trying to nail down their lines wander around the set of “West Wing” like zombies, chanting them over to themselves as if they were prayers. Rob Lowe, who does a hilarious turn as deputy communications chief Sam Seaborn, says, “I’ve been acting since I was 8, and this show is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There’s so much dialogue, it is so intricate, it is so dense and the pacing is so critical it’s like wrestling a bear. Just when you think you have it pinned, it flips you over on your back.”
Even if there’s more room on TV for stylistic diversity, how diverse can the world-views be amongst the handful of rich, white men who control prime time? In the big controversy this season over the lack of minorities in casting, “West Wing’s” creators were an especially easy target because all seven leads in the pilot were white. Wells, for his part, says he feels wrongly accused; minorities make up more than half the cast of “Third Watch” and 25 percent of “ER.” Sorkin has handled the attack with admirable grace–by apologizing and conceding the point. “I genuinely appreciate the tap on the shoulder from the NAACP, and they’re quite right in being upset,” he says, pledging to create more roles with an eye toward diversity. Indeed, the second episode of “West Wing” abounded with blacks and Asians.
But television has always been a limber medium; it’s come a long way from the days of Norman Lear’s Archie Bunker and Aaron Spelling’s gun-toting Angels in bikinis and killer hair. Freed from the necessity of appealing to everyone across all demographics, today’s top TV creators are giving us interesting, messy characters, storylines you can’t tie up in a pretty bow and dialogue you actually want to listen to. TV can be good–and the best TV can even be great, as long as Sorkin keeps at it. By the way, any ideas for next week’s episode?
