8.0/10. I didn’t care for the way part one of “Election Day” handled the death of John Spencer and, with him, Leo McGarry. Making someone’s death into a dramatic act break, so close to their actual passing, felt crass and exploitive. Obviously John Wells & Co. had a difficult challenge in integrating Spencer’s death into the show, but that choice is tin-eared in a way that makes it seem like The West Wing is cheaply taking advantage of the passing of one of its most important actors.
And yet, part two of the episode makes good in every way that the end of episode stinger treatment Leo’s death receives does not. While a Vice Presidential nominee dying obviously factors into the main plot of the episode, “Election Day pt. 2” spends more time reflecting, more time grieving, more time looking at the impact Leo McGarry had on the people who were in his orbit, than on the election at hand.
Much of this comes down to the incredibly talented actors The West Wing has on hand. While Kristen Chenoweth overdoes it a bit, and Santos’s wounded reaction rings somewhat false given that we’ve only seen him and his VP have two conversations, we get a number of incredible scenes of the people whose lives Leo touched reacting to this terrible event. In particular, Allison Janey and Martin Sheen do an outstanding job at communicating the way two people in their positions must be absolutely composed, but how they are also each so devastated by this. The hurt in their eyes is underplayed, but immediately palpable, in a fashion that creates a sense of realism to this.
There’s a wistfulness to Bartlet’s exit that hasn’t really been explored deeply on the show yet. But when we see him comment to C.J. that there’s something strange about watching yourself be replaced on national television, and then reminisce about how he met, argued with, and almost lost Leo once before, you get the sense that for one the President is forced to take stock, to realize that this incredible journey he’s been on is about to come to an end, and the people who have been with him on it will be moving on, in one way or another.
It also provides a poignant ballast for Josh on the night where his election dreams will soar or implode. In part one, it seemed like nothing in the world could distract Josh from this election, that even when there’s nothing for him to do, no fires to put out, he was running around with a match just be able to run in with the fire extinguisher. But once he hears about Leo, he’s only half there. Election results pour in, and gone is his exuberance and neurotic pouring over exit polls. All he can think of is the fact that his mentor is no longer there.
After all, Leo is the one who essentially inspired Josh to do this. He told Josh to find his guy, who advised him what he was going to face, who stood up for him when the party leadership wanted him out as campaign manager. Leo is Moses, standing at the gates of the promised land, but not being able to enter. And Josh feels guilty because he brought Leo onto the ticket, put him through the ringer of campaign season in a way that put a man who’d already suffered a recent heart attack through more strain. It’s a dark cloud that puts the election into perspective for the man who has been on a mission to get to this day for two seasons.
“Election Night” could have been nothing but electoral suspense and horse race drama. Instead, by addressing Leo’s death in the midst of the hoopla, the show gives these moments weight beyond the plot-rigged heavy machinery.
That’s not to say that “Election Night” doesn’t still use the death of the VP nominee to drive the plot of the episode. Leo’s death provides fodder for one more decision for both Santos and Vinick on whether to address or exploit it. Since each of them are men of impossible integrity, Santos refuses to sit on the information until the polls close to persuade undecideds, and Vinick refuses to leak or otherwise try to use the info himself. I’ve said before that I enjoy these little moral choices, but this show has just gone to that well so many times with Santos and Vinick. You can only play this game for so long before these supposedly big moral choices start to have any force.
“Election Night pt. 2” also sets up a similar dilemma as to the issue of contesting the election. Santos, whose decision turns out to be purely conjectural, seems to listen to Josh when confronting the issue of whether to file a lawsuit if there’s a close call in one of the final two states that will decide the election. Josh tells him that he’s still young and popular enough that he can make another run at this thing in four years, and that nobody likes the guy who yells at the ump because he doesn’t like the call. Vinick faces the decision for real, choosing not to contest the vote in Nevada, or argue that the voters aren’t getting what they bargained for without Leo, because he believes that the results, however much he may dislike them, reflect what the country wants.
Again, these decisions ring a bit hollow since the show has done this type of thing with the two candidates so many times over the course of the season, but I suppose it’s nice to see the two of them sticking to their guns when the presidency is truly on the line to really drive home the “Never compromise. Not even in the face of Armageddon,” mentality each possesses.
And to the point, the show had to inject some intrigue into this beyond having an hour of staffers watching election results. As I mentioned in a prior write up, the episode held little suspense for me because, by some odd quirk, the very first episode of this show I ever watched was its series finale. But despite that, the march to Santos’s victory here felt a little perfunctory. There were enough twists and turns along the way, but they all felt rote for the big dramatic election. The story of Santos’s victory on this day was solid, but not exactly novel.
Still, it’s a jubilant moment. Watching Josh and Donna hug, Matt and Helen Santos do the same, and the candidate and the man behind him offer one another their thanks at the same time is a nice, lasting image for this storyline to end on. Santos gives a nice victory speech about acknowledging how close the election is and what Vinick’s service means, and Alan Alda gives the perfect wounded dog reaction to watching him be patted on the back by the man who just beat him for the highest office in the land. With any luck, in its remaining episodes, The West Wing will explore both the unexpected chaos of actually becoming the president, and the listless pain of coming that close and losing.
But the jubilation is tinted with grief. When Josh looks at Leo’s picture in the closing moments of the episode, we see a man who was so important to making this day, this victory happen, who will never get to see it. The characters on The West Wing, and the people who make the show, owe a debt of gratitude to Leo McGarry and John Spencer for taking this grand enterprise this far. And it’s a sign that even in our most joyous moments, there are hints of sadness at the people who brought us to them, whom we’ll never have a chance to thank.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2016-10-20T23:09:34Z
8.0/10. I didn’t care for the way part one of “Election Day” handled the death of John Spencer and, with him, Leo McGarry. Making someone’s death into a dramatic act break, so close to their actual passing, felt crass and exploitive. Obviously John Wells & Co. had a difficult challenge in integrating Spencer’s death into the show, but that choice is tin-eared in a way that makes it seem like The West Wing is cheaply taking advantage of the passing of one of its most important actors.
And yet, part two of the episode makes good in every way that the end of episode stinger treatment Leo’s death receives does not. While a Vice Presidential nominee dying obviously factors into the main plot of the episode, “Election Day pt. 2” spends more time reflecting, more time grieving, more time looking at the impact Leo McGarry had on the people who were in his orbit, than on the election at hand.
Much of this comes down to the incredibly talented actors The West Wing has on hand. While Kristen Chenoweth overdoes it a bit, and Santos’s wounded reaction rings somewhat false given that we’ve only seen him and his VP have two conversations, we get a number of incredible scenes of the people whose lives Leo touched reacting to this terrible event. In particular, Allison Janey and Martin Sheen do an outstanding job at communicating the way two people in their positions must be absolutely composed, but how they are also each so devastated by this. The hurt in their eyes is underplayed, but immediately palpable, in a fashion that creates a sense of realism to this.
There’s a wistfulness to Bartlet’s exit that hasn’t really been explored deeply on the show yet. But when we see him comment to C.J. that there’s something strange about watching yourself be replaced on national television, and then reminisce about how he met, argued with, and almost lost Leo once before, you get the sense that for one the President is forced to take stock, to realize that this incredible journey he’s been on is about to come to an end, and the people who have been with him on it will be moving on, in one way or another.
It also provides a poignant ballast for Josh on the night where his election dreams will soar or implode. In part one, it seemed like nothing in the world could distract Josh from this election, that even when there’s nothing for him to do, no fires to put out, he was running around with a match just be able to run in with the fire extinguisher. But once he hears about Leo, he’s only half there. Election results pour in, and gone is his exuberance and neurotic pouring over exit polls. All he can think of is the fact that his mentor is no longer there.
After all, Leo is the one who essentially inspired Josh to do this. He told Josh to find his guy, who advised him what he was going to face, who stood up for him when the party leadership wanted him out as campaign manager. Leo is Moses, standing at the gates of the promised land, but not being able to enter. And Josh feels guilty because he brought Leo onto the ticket, put him through the ringer of campaign season in a way that put a man who’d already suffered a recent heart attack through more strain. It’s a dark cloud that puts the election into perspective for the man who has been on a mission to get to this day for two seasons.
“Election Night” could have been nothing but electoral suspense and horse race drama. Instead, by addressing Leo’s death in the midst of the hoopla, the show gives these moments weight beyond the plot-rigged heavy machinery.
That’s not to say that “Election Night” doesn’t still use the death of the VP nominee to drive the plot of the episode. Leo’s death provides fodder for one more decision for both Santos and Vinick on whether to address or exploit it. Since each of them are men of impossible integrity, Santos refuses to sit on the information until the polls close to persuade undecideds, and Vinick refuses to leak or otherwise try to use the info himself. I’ve said before that I enjoy these little moral choices, but this show has just gone to that well so many times with Santos and Vinick. You can only play this game for so long before these supposedly big moral choices start to have any force.
“Election Night pt. 2” also sets up a similar dilemma as to the issue of contesting the election. Santos, whose decision turns out to be purely conjectural, seems to listen to Josh when confronting the issue of whether to file a lawsuit if there’s a close call in one of the final two states that will decide the election. Josh tells him that he’s still young and popular enough that he can make another run at this thing in four years, and that nobody likes the guy who yells at the ump because he doesn’t like the call. Vinick faces the decision for real, choosing not to contest the vote in Nevada, or argue that the voters aren’t getting what they bargained for without Leo, because he believes that the results, however much he may dislike them, reflect what the country wants.
Again, these decisions ring a bit hollow since the show has done this type of thing with the two candidates so many times over the course of the season, but I suppose it’s nice to see the two of them sticking to their guns when the presidency is truly on the line to really drive home the “Never compromise. Not even in the face of Armageddon,” mentality each possesses.
And to the point, the show had to inject some intrigue into this beyond having an hour of staffers watching election results. As I mentioned in a prior write up, the episode held little suspense for me because, by some odd quirk, the very first episode of this show I ever watched was its series finale. But despite that, the march to Santos’s victory here felt a little perfunctory. There were enough twists and turns along the way, but they all felt rote for the big dramatic election. The story of Santos’s victory on this day was solid, but not exactly novel.
Still, it’s a jubilant moment. Watching Josh and Donna hug, Matt and Helen Santos do the same, and the candidate and the man behind him offer one another their thanks at the same time is a nice, lasting image for this storyline to end on. Santos gives a nice victory speech about acknowledging how close the election is and what Vinick’s service means, and Alan Alda gives the perfect wounded dog reaction to watching him be patted on the back by the man who just beat him for the highest office in the land. With any luck, in its remaining episodes, The West Wing will explore both the unexpected chaos of actually becoming the president, and the listless pain of coming that close and losing.
But the jubilation is tinted with grief. When Josh looks at Leo’s picture in the closing moments of the episode, we see a man who was so important to making this day, this victory happen, who will never get to see it. The characters on The West Wing, and the people who make the show, owe a debt of gratitude to Leo McGarry and John Spencer for taking this grand enterprise this far. And it’s a sign that even in our most joyous moments, there are hints of sadness at the people who brought us to them, whom we’ll never have a chance to thank.