The Newsroom: ten initial thoughts

1. Bradley Whitford would have made a great Will McAvoy. The initial scene seemed to have been written for him. Sigh.

2. Aaron Sorkin has the courage to tell the truth about America. And about the fact that it's not the only country with freedom, thereby elliciting whoops from those of us who nod furiously when played the clip where Obama says he believes in American exceptionalism the way, for example, Brits believe in British exceptionalism. It's the kind of thing that may have riled some Americans, but won hearts in other countries. Because it's true! and refreshing to hear!

3. Aaron Sorkin has a thing about Belgium. I've always suspected this, but to get a mention within five minutes of the pilot episode is quite something. Well done him.

4. Also, he called the UK the UK, and not England. This is unusual for an American, and to be applauded.

5. MacKenzie did not need to be British. But if she was going to be British, she should have been called Fleur, or Sophie, or Fiona. British parents do not name their little girls Mackenzie, especially posh diplomat types. This unnecessary plot complication and unnecessary accent and ridiculously chosen name is likely to irritate me throughout.

5. Until the last scene, I worried that Mackenzie/Will had as much chemistry as Josh/Mandy. Which isn't a problem, except we are clearly meant to be shipping them. Oh well - maybe another meant-to-be-minor character will steal one of their hearts. The best ships are organic anyway. But then, oddly, I found myself welling up at the end. So who knows?

6. But Aaron Sorkin is clearly a romantic. More than that, he believes romantic love to be the motivation behind excellence, the thing that causes us to rise higher than we thought possible. Viz Studio 60 and the Social Network, though not the West Wing in quite the same way.

7. He's chosen to set this show not in a parallel universe, but in our real world - maybe the real world of a couple of years ago, complete with Barack Obama and BP oil spills. Interesting concept. And one which I think I Iike - it should make for some interesting social commentary, and means his creative energy will be devoted to characters and internal plot, rather than coming up with external plot.

8. That episode was really long. Are they all going to be this long?

9. Recognisable Sorkin characters all over the place - most notably Maggie (whose name Mackenzie pronounces with an American accent for no discernible reason). She reminded me of Matt's assistant in Studio 60. In fact, she's basically the same character. Or am I wrong?

10. Aesthetically speaking (and in many other ways), it's no West Wing. And it is certainly no Studio 60. (I doubt the Bradley Whitford/Matt Perry combination can be equalled or surpassed by anything other than Bradley Whitford/Rob Lowe). But John Gallagher, Jr, has grown into a hottie since he was last seen dropping Josh, Donna and Toby off at a station so they could get a train going the wrong way. Maybe it's time I crushed on someone more age-appropriate. Think I can charm him with my British accent (and my genuine British name)?

All because of Aaron Sorkin: how the West Wing changed me

The internet is aflutter with excitement about Aaron Sorkin’s new television show, The Newsroom. All kinds of questions are being asked: how will Sorkin write a Republican protagonist? Where’s Bradley Whitford? Will The Newsroom air anywhere besides the US?

Here’s what I’m asking: will it change lives?

Because The West Wing changed mine.

For a long time, my friends in London had been telling me I should watch it. “It’s all about politics,” they’d say. “You like politics.” They were right. Once I gave in, the show took over my life. And something surprising happened in me as I watched: I fell in love with the English language.

As a child and teenager, I wrote prolifically -- in French, which is my mother tongue. When we moved back to the UK, and English became my dominant language, I did not feel so inspired. French, I was convinced, was superior. It was beautiful. English was not.

But that was before Aaron Sorkin convinced me otherwise. His mastery of the language awoke something in me that had been dormant for years. “Oratory should raise your heart rate,” says one of his characters, and that is exactly what his words did for me.  I began to devour novels. I began to itch to write again.

Sorkin assumes an intelligent viewer, and yet still teaches them a multitude of things. He doesn’t shy away from difficult or controversial issues. And in the language itself there is poetry, too, and rhythm:

“Nice job on the speech,” says one character to another, Sam Seaborn, in the third season.

“How did you know I wrote it?” he asks her.

She quotes some of its phrases. “We did not seek, nor did we provoke… We did not expect, nor did we invite…”

“A little thing called cadence,” Sam replies, and you get the sense that Aaron Sorkin is winking at his viewers through those lines.

Sorkin is also skilled at developing complex and memorable characters, avoiding, for example, the liberal temptation to paint all Republicans as evil.  Life is not black and white, and nor should fiction be if it is to be believable.

Josh Lyman – deftly played by Bradley Whitford - is one such character: arrogant, brilliant, and deeply wounded. He is also at the center of a will-they-won’t-they storyline which kept many viewers hooked; I wanted my writing to do that, too. The restraint which Aaron Sorkin showed in not getting Josh and his assistant Donna together too soon – and the resulting tension - is one of the defining features of the show. I wanted to create characters as compelling as Josh and Donna; I wanted my stories, like Sorkin’s, to reflect the complexities of life in general and romance in particular.

So it was that walking home one summer Saturday after a morning of French teaching, an unexpected thought occurred to me: wouldn’t it be fun to tutor Bradley Whitford?  And that was the start of my first novel, in which someone very much like me teaches French to someone a little like him, who inspires her to move to Washington DC and (many years later) become a Senator.

Given the source of my inspiration, it was perhaps inevitable that politics would provide the backdrop to the story. My friends in London had been right: this wasn’t a new interest. I chose Sociology in my last two years of high school and almost studied Social and Political Science at University. I was once passionate about that stuff. And The West Wing prodded at that, too. Prodded and poked and awoke the beast.

And of course, I had to visit Washington, and the city stole my heart. Maybe it was the majesty of the monuments or the colors of autumn: we don’t have the deep, deep red of the maple tree in Europe. Maybe it was the surreal sense of stepping into a fictional world that had seemed only to exist on screens and in my imagination. Maybe it was eavesdropping on high-level conversations in classy restaurants. Maybe it was the abundance of literary events and of bookshops with names like Politics and Prose. Maybe – most likely of all – it was the fact that my writing feels intricately bound up with DC and the corridors of political power. Hard to tell. But I knew I wanted to live there.

Writing, by then, had become a serious passion; I began to dream about studying it full-time. And when I dream, I reach for Google. I typed in “MFA” and “DC”, omitting “two birds”, “one stone”. And it came up with American University, a place which not only offered exactly what I needed in terms of the course but which also –  oh, happy day! -- was rated number one nationally for its political involvement.

I applied but wasn’t accepted. Would Donna Moss have let that deter her? No, she would not. I worked on my admissions essay and sent in a better writing sample the following year, and this time it was a yes.

I’ll be moving to DC in August. Perhaps to embark on a whole new chapter of my life complete with best-selling novels, a part-time voluntary job at the Democratic Party, and my very own Josh Lyman. Or perhaps just for a two-year adventure. But either way, it’s because of Aaron Sorkin. It’s because of The West Wing.

The Newsroom: a confession

I have a confession to make. 

I am a little bit afraid about The Newsroom. 

Let's face it, Studio 60 was no West Wing. Not even close. It was enjoyable, I will grant you that; I would happily have watched another couple of seasons of it. After all, not only was it written by Aaron Sorkin, not only was there much Bradley Whitford goodness, there was the very handsome Matthew Perry too, and the two of them had great chemistry. And the Christian-girl-falls-for-Jewish-guy plotline will always have a place in my heart, for reasons which should be obvious to anyone who knows me. 

But The Newsroom will have none of those things. 

Granted, I liked The Social Network, which had none of those things either. But would I have wanted to sit through episode after episode of it? No. 

I really wish I could believe that Aaron Sorkin's bright future is not, in the oft-repeated words of Bradley Whitford, behind him. But, alas - and it isn't often you get to use the word alas in a blogpost - I fear that nothing will ever compare to The West Wing. 

I long for more Sorkin brilliance in my life. I am afraid that The Newsroom will merely deliver Aaron Sorkin greatness. 

Staging Hope: Acts of Peace in Northern Uganda

I don't watch many documentaries; the ones I do tend to be about the lives of American presidents or the development of the English language. I am afraid of pain - my own, and other people's - and what I watch tends to reflect that.

I've known about Staging Hope for some time: it's a documentary made by Melissa Fitzgerald (aka Carol from the West Wing, for those who are wondering) about a drama project in Northern Uganda. I thought it was going to be full of the kind of thing that's hard to hear and even harder to watch, the kind of thing that makes me flick channels when it's on the news because it hurts to be confronted with just how evil people can be and with my own inertia in the face of that same evil.

And there was some of that, of course. That, after all, is the reason d'être of the Voices of Uganda project and of the film which sprang from it.

But Staging Hope is warm and funny, too. It's the story of an unlikely friendship between a group of Ugandan teenagers - who have known nothing except war and poverty and the kind of suffering we would happily plug our ears with cotton wool not to have to hear about - and a group of American actors whose lives, like all of ours, are incredibly privileged by any reasonable standard.

It's the story, too, of the power of drama to connect people, to instil confidence, to help people tell about the things that they need to tell and that others need to hear. And if you're sceptical - if that sounds like Hollywood mumbo jumbo to you - then I defy you to watch this film and not change your mind.

Staging Hope is also something else, something that touched me deeply as someone who hopes one day to be recognised for her art. It's the story of one woman who used her relative fame and connections not for her own gain but for advocacy on behalf of others: to raise awareness of an issue, the war in Northern Uganda, which has been called the greatest forgotten humanitarian crisis of all time.

The children in the film repeatedly asked the Americans not to forget them; Melissa and her team have not. They are in regular contact with them, and are resourcing them to keep telling their stories and teach others to do the same. They've also been instrumental in bringing about a piece of legislation that has enjoyed unparalleled bipartisan support and that hopefully will contribute to ending the war and alleviating the suffering of the kids in the movie and thousands like them.

An issue like that one can feel dry and distant - bills debated on in Washington DC to help people we don't know in a country most of us couldn't place on a map. Staging Hope restores the human angle to the debate - more than that, it places it centre stage, no pun intended - and, rather than making me want to channel flick, it made me want to do something.

Happy birthday Aaron Sorkin!

Just pausing to reflect on the impact Aaron Sorkin has had on my life.

Without him, I might never have...

- known or cared about American politics

- known much or cared much about America, full stop (sorry, guys)

- visited DC

- been introduced to my very favourite actor

- been inspired to write the book I have just finished

- fallen in love with the English language

- known who Rob Lowe was (yes, I'm that culturally inept)

- gone to Hay to meet Rob Lowe, and ended up meeting another author who inspired me, listened to me, and may well be helpful to me later down the line...

- met Rebecca, who's now one of my best friends, and made countless other friends online

I realise I'm repeating the word "inspired". Which, when you come to think of it, is quite apt.

Aaron Sorkin, you can be my three beautiful things for today.

Spiritual lessons from the West Wing: in this White House?

The first episode of The West Wing I ever watched was the one in my flatmate's laptop when I borrowed it one evening: it. happened to be the one where Ainsley Hayes starts work at the White House. Ainsley in intelligent and beautiful (blonde, of course) and fiercely ambitious - perfect in the way that only TV charcters can be. She's also a Republican.

When she's offered a job by Leo, she babbles incoherently (in iambic pentameter, because she's being written by Aaron Sorkin) where the rest of us might be speechless. "Ainsley," he says, "don't you want to work at the White House?"

"Only since I was three," she replies. "It has to be this White House?"

In other words, wow. This is my dream. I just didn't think it would look like this.

And now I'm being offered this position, and it's exactly what I want, but it's exactly not what I want, all at the same time, and so I'm confused.

I think many of us can relate to that. Take me, for example.

Claire, asks God gently, don't you want to be in leadership?

Oh, only all of my adult like.

I just didn't think it woud look like this.

Really? In this White House?

Not married to a Church leader who grew up being discipled by David Stroud and going to Stoneleigh Bible Week? Not married at all, in fact, not with three kids, the fourth on the way, maybe even twins?

Not in a Newfrontiers Church where I'm clear on the vision and embrace the values, where I know what is meant by "church", where I'm comfortable with the way things are done, where I understand what is expected of me and roughly how I should be going about it?

Yes. In this White House. In this capital city. In this Church. At this time in history.

"Appeal to her sense of duty," the President tells Leo. In other words, remind her that what unites us is bigger and deeper than what differenciates us. We all long for great things for our nation.

Ainsley, of course, takes the job. Sadly, Aaron Sorkin then forgets about her and she wastes away in the Steam Pipe Distribution Venue, to be replaced later by the very dishy Joe Quincy, played by none other than Matthew Perry, but I digress.

Since my life is not being written by Aaron Sorkin, I need not worry that such a fate awaits me. I am called by God, here and now, for such a time as this. And while the way my new Church does things is not the same as what I grew up with, while it is not always what I would choose, it is also not as radical a departure from my values as Ainsley Hayes' serving under a Democratic President. And what unites us is far, far deeper than what differentiates us.

Yes, Claire, really. In this White House.

I serve at the pleasure of the King.

Desert island discs...

As I cast my eyes around my flat yesterday, desperately looking for the fourth and fifth thing to take to my desert island, I realised that music is one thing that would be difficult to live without. Hence, I suppose, the whole guitar thing.

Brits among you will be familiar with Desert Island Discs, described by the BBC's website as "one of Radio 4's most popular and enduring programmes... each week a guest is invited to choose the eight records they would take with them to a desert island". (The use of the word "record" is, I suppose a product of this being the BBC, and the programme having been invented in 1942.) You learn an awful lot about people through the music they listen to, almost as much as you do through the books they read. (Does anyone else think this ought to be part of the current prime ministerial debates?)

So, here we go. Eight songs (yes, songs - not whole CDs!) that would define me.

1. I would need something by Jean-Jacques Goldman. The vast majority of you will have never heard his name, but he's an iconic singer who arguably defined pop music in the 1980s and 1990s in particular, in the French-speaking world. His words are incredibly clever and he sings about all kinds of things including his Jewish faith and test tube babies and communism. Sometimes it's poetry, sometimes social commentary, sometimes he cleverly blends the two.

I'll just pause here for you to have the obligatory laugh at the expense of French pop.

Now you've got that out of your system, I will say this: give me Jean-Jacques Goldman over insipid English romance-obsessed music any day. There. I've said it.

Anyway, the song of his that best captures my life would have to be Puisque tu Pars (because you're leaving) but it still stirs up some emotions in me that I don't always feel like dealing with. Ditto Veiller Tard (staying up late - hmmm, not quite the same ring), a haunting piece about the things that go through our minds when we can't sleep. Or Confidentiel - about adopting a family for yourself. There are too many nerves that are still raw even after all these years. So I'll go for Elle a fait un bébé toute seule - She made a baby by herself - the aforementioned test tube baby song. It's an upbeat 80s tune, so singalongable, and I have great memories of some people I love very much, singing this in a minibus on the way down to the South of France for the best holiday I've ever had.

Wow. I don't think I'll write this much for all the songs, or I'll have lost all of you.

2. For good

Okay. I'll try and be briefer. This one is from the musical "Wicked", and I love it - it made me cry, in fact, thinking about the same kind of people who I sat with in that minibus singing Jean-Jacques Goldman at the top of my lungs, and how their friendships have changed me. For good.

It also expressed perfectly the theme of my novel, "inevitable": because I knew you, I have been changed for good. So it would be useful to have along for inspiration.

And, it also reminds me of Josh and Donna on the West Wing. 'Nuf said on that one.

3. Rutter's Requiem

I fell in love with this at the beginning of my journey into an interest in classical music which has since come to a screeching halt, but which began in my second year at King's College, Cambridge, whose choir had recorded the piece not long before. I know it's not cool to pick this one: you should really curl your lip in disgust and spit out "popular classical music" just afterwards. But I love it. It's beautiful; it's haunting. It transports me to another place, which could be useful after six months on the same island, and brings back for me the musty, incense-filled smell of King's College Chapel. Nostalgie quand tu nous tiens...

4. Atrapados en la red, by Tam Tam Go

Chances are, none of you will have heard of this either. A catchy, happy little piece about online dating - from the days when online anything was still a novelty. Yes, more nostalgia. When I hear this, I find myself back on the Spanish beach on which I spent much of '99-2000 and in the place - I refuse to call it an internet café - where for an outrageously high fee I could send half an hour eeking out an email on telnet to my friends in Russia and Spain and France on their Year Abroad. Anyone remember telnet? None of my twitter friends will. You're all far too young. Sigh.

5. Para no verte más, by La Mosca Tsé Tsé

Another catchy little Spanish number that was being played everywhere that year. If there was one song that defined my time in Cullera (close to Valencia), this was it. It's not the nicest of lyrics - I will rip up your photos and burn your letters, that kind of thing - but when I mix it with a Spanish accent, some sunshine and a little sangria, somehow it still makes me smile.

6. Marseille, by Patrick Fiori

Another one nobody will have heard of. Sorry about that. This one is relatively recent - my fond memories of French pop are mostly from my childhood - but it was key in my whole rediscovery of Belgium as my home. The lyrics basically talk of someone who went far away to find himself but never forgot where his home was, just like when you find a faded photograph and it stirs up happy memories. I first heard this in my adopted big sister's kitchen, and it may have been key to calling me back here.

7. Better than life - Hillsong

It's hard to choose just one worship song, and so many of them have difficult emotions associated with them. This one, though, is associated in my mind with what were, for me, the early, happy, hopeful days of ChristChurch London. It was a firm favourite, with just Rhys strumming his guitar in the upstairs room of International Students' House, and with good reason: better than the biggest dreams in my heart, better than getting what I say I need... No matter when I hear it, it's always a timely reminder of the incomparable greatness of the love of God. Plus, there's a chance to correctly use an apostrophe in better than the sound of my friends' voices...

8. Jesus, my only hope

Another great song, associated with the same sunny summer, my first in London. It has a catchy tune, and a harmony I could at one point actually master. But most of all, lyrics that are wonderful for the soul, and during which you can actually hear people singing louder. (I dont think it's just me.) When Satan's accusations make my poor heart afraid, I hear my King declaring: Father, that debt is paid!!

I could, in particular, have chosen many more soppy love songs (I'm a sucker for those...Vonda Shepherd's Ally McBeal soundtracks for example), and, of course, Bang Bang by Dizzy Gillespie and Body and Soul by Billie Holliday. (West Wing fans will know why, and if not, they should either hang their heads in shame, or hurry up and watch Season Seven.)

Jack Johnson and Norah Jones and Newton Faulkner are all on a constant loop, and I love my Notting Hill and Love Actually and Snuffy Walden CDs. So I guess if I could take eight albums, the answer would be completely different. But those are not the rules, so I've chosen eight songs that could be used on the soundtrack in the film of my life. (You know, the one where Melissa Fitzgerald or Lauren Graham plays me, though I've had a recent revelation that Liza Weil would do a great job of "capturing my essence". She does the ranting and raving so well. Anyway, that's another topic for another day.)

On that note (bad pan fully intended), I'll let you get back to whatever I interrupted with this longer-than-usual blogpost. Do feel free to tell me what songs you would take, though. It's not as easy as it sounds!

Bradley Whitford films: a shamelessly subjective viewpoint

I'm not sure how, but word has somehow got around that I am something of a Bradley Whitford fan.

Having decided that since, sniff, the West Wing only continues to exist in the hearts and minds of fan fic writers... (I plead guilty), I should get my Brad/Aaron fix from Studio 60, I thought I would try and wean myself onto the idea of watching Brad on other things with Little Manhattan. Since that was such a thoroughly positive experience, I shall now be regularly indulging in the Friday-night treat that is watching a film I would never have heard about were it not for him.

Him, and my fellow tweeters, that is, who have been a very useful source of information for such things. And today "Laura in Washington" asked me to rank BW movies by amount of screen time that he gets, so she knows what to watch first.

So in the spirit of world-wide friendship, altruism, and self sacrifice (ahem), here goes. Though I don't fancy getting the stopwatch out so I'm going to use a throughly subjective complex mathematical equation along the lines of:

wonderfulness of Brad's character x screen time x greatness of film in general x enjoyment of said film by a girl whose favourite genre (apart from political dramas by Aaron Sorkin) is the (intelligent) chick-flick

Number One - and this should, by now, come as no surprise: the West Wing. The West Wing. The West Wing. (I get so excited that I have to say it multiple times.)

- well, what can I say? If you really (really?) want to hear me enthuse more about this, check out this blogpost, or this one, or this one.

To be absolutely fair, I will let Aaron Sorkin take some of the credit for Josh Lyman's attractiveness, and also Rahm Emanuel for being his inspiration. (Funny, though - I've felt a little cheated since realising Josh is not 100% creation... I knew no good could come out of leaving the world of fiction to find out about reality.) Oh, and because I have to mention her in every post, also Janel Moloney. I think that Brad once said that so much of who he was on the West Wing was a product of his interaction with her. Or maybe it was the other way round. But either way...

It's a no-brainer, though, really: who doesn't love a vulnerable, impossibly bright, world-changing hero? With those dimples and those eyes? Come on.

Number Two: Inevitable

Yet to be made, this one, but essentially a film version of the novel I am currently working on. Oh, and he and I are going to write the screenplay together. (He just doesn't know it yet.)

He finally gets a lead role, as a frustrated musician masquerading as a diplomat in Brussels, (assuming we can make him look thirty-five) and both he and his character are thoroughly lovable. Also, Janel Moloney gets a cameo. A must-see. Now if I could just get the flippin' thing written...

For more on my delusions of grandeur, click here...

Number Three: Little Manhattan

Funny, sweet, endearing. Hats off to Josh Hutcherson who I think has a great future ahead of him, though I've heard something about vampires and the like... (Not really down with the kids these days, not that I ever was...) Lots of New York City in it. These are all good things, aside from the vampires part.

Brad's character, a fab dad, needs a hug throughout the film, and that certainly works on me.

It makes me sad, though, that he is playing a character going through a divorce... A little too close to real life.

Screen time is substantial for a non-lead character, and in any case it is a film I would have loved even without Brad. Perfect for a girls' night in. Go out and buy it. Now.

Eight out of ten (I rarely give 9s, and 10s are reserved for the West Wing).

Number Four: Studio Sixty on the Sunset Strip

Well, how could I not like this? It's not just Brad, but Matt Perry as well - and he is fantastic (and not entirely unattractive) in this. It's also Aaron Sorkin's writing, plenty of romantic tension, and a lot of depth to a series that could essentially have been about unimportant fluff. Still, it's no West Wing. Maybe because there was no Janel. Or maybe because it was only allowed to last one season - it may well have needed longer to come into its own, or allow some of the storylines to benefit from the kind of Josh/Donna tension that only comes with long, long waits.

Eight out of ten as well.

Number Five: Burn Up

Can I give this one eight of ten too?

This did not sound like the kind of thing I would enjoy, and yet I'm very glad following the Brad trail led me to this. It's a two-part TV drama, three hours in total, that charts the run up to a Kyoto 2/Copenhagen conference. If global warming sounds like a dull premise, then think again - passions and self-interest run very deep in a such a powerful place as the oil industry, and there are plenty of unexpected twists and turns that will have you gasping, and wondering throughout where exactly your sympathies are supposed to lie. Brad's hair is way too short, but that's perhaps the only criticism I could level at him, or Burn Up in general. Really worth the watch. Neve Campbell and Rupert Penley-Jones are great too, and it's always fun for me to watch Brit/American dynamics play out against this kind of backdrop.

Number Six: Scent of a Woman

Thanks must once again go to Brad for introducing me to many films I would otherwise not have touched, or, to my shame, even been aware of. Among many great things about this film, which other people have no doubt reviewed and discussed much more eloquently and intelligently that I can in the context of this blog, is possibly the world's greatest chat-up line: "want to get together and talk politics sometime?".

I don't feel I can do the intelligence or subtlety or fantastic acting of this film justice here. (I will, however, be checking out more of Chris O'Donnell.) The sweet ending I wasn't sure quite fitted with the rest of the plot, but hey, it did fulfill the major criterion of a Bradley Whitford film, which appears to be making me cry.

Brad's role (let's face it, that's why you've read this far) is in a relatively short scene, quite near the beginning. He's great, though, and you get to see him speaking his mind and pinned against a wall. The Brits among you will also chuckle with me when I tell you his character's name is Randy.

6.5/10, according once again to my subjective equation, not to any objective Great Movies Of All Time league: Al Pacino got his first Best Actor Oscar for this.

As it says on the DVD, heart-wrenching, and heart-warming.

Number Seven: Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 1

I've blogged about this elsewhere, but essentially, it's another great girlie film, though be warned that if you have any painful issues in your past or even just a modicum of sensitivity, you will be getting through a lot of tissues.

Screen time, though, is minimal, and painful - his character is an idiot through most of it and does not do what he really should have done in the scene where he vaguely redeems himself (bending over backwards not to spoil the plot here). But heck, he is still very attractive.

Six out of ten, but could've been more if I hadn't spent so much of it crying and therefore unable to see him properly.

Number Eight: Kate and Leopold

At sixteen, I would probably have loved this, but at - oh my goodness, I hadn't quite done the maths before - very nearly twice that, I kept myself sane by tweeting throughout (sorry, tweeps) and reminding myself that this was a Brad film. I would have stopped watching after twenty minutes were it not for him.

Remember that ridiculous drama on BBC last year about a girl who finds herself trapped in Jane Austen's times? Cross that with Bridget Jones. Don't think it would quite work? My point, exactly.

Also, I have a philosophical problem with films where Brad is not the one I am meant to be in love with. He is the baddie a la Hugh Grant in Bridget Jones, though one with a heart. (I remember having similar issues with not being allowed to fall for Hugh Grant, but that was then.)

And oh, the cheese.

Four out of ten. Even though this is Brad at his physically most attractive - 2001, so season 2/3 of WW.

Number Nine: the Client

Now before you all start attacking me for my lack of taste, I refer you to the aforementioned equation. This is absolutely not my kind of film. There is a lot, however, that is great about it, including Mary Louise Parker - amazing. Also, suspense and plot twists and even sweet moments that - damn it - made me well up. More crying! Bradley Whitford, please stop it!

Also, Brad is one of many "supporting" characters (not quite minor, he has a couple of moments of glory), so screen time is limited - and who knew that he would not be sexy in glasses. I mean, not sexy for Brad. And it's kind of weird, but even though this film is way old, he looks older than Josh Lyman did. Maybe it's those glasses Or the haircut. Or the braces. (Suspenders, to you Americans.) As a Brit, I'm not really qualified to comment on his Southern accent but it seemed to me that it wasn't the best (which is just as well, because, I'm sorry to say, I don't find that very attractive either). But let's face it, he still has the dimples. And the man can most definitely act.

So don't rush out and buy this if, like me, you like sweet, romantic Little Manhattan type films. But if you like thrillers and John Grishams, then it's a good one. And if you're a fan of Susan Sarandon and/or Brad Renfro and/or Mary Louise Parker (which you can't fail to be if you've seen the West Wing, and I'm guessing the West Wing is the reason most of you are on this website in the first place) - definitely one for the collection.

Enjoyment factor: three and a half out of ten.

So that's that for now. Watch this space for the next installment... Recommendations welcome. More than welcome, in fact. Actively encouraged, you could say.

Isaac and Ishmael - a few brief thoughts...

I’ve just watched Isaac and Ishmael for the first time.

The first time, you ask?

Well, yes. Both times I have been tearing through the West Wing and desperate to get to the action. Shame on me, I know. It’s also been quite cool knowing that there is an episode I hadn’t yet seen. Now, sadly, that’s it, and I have to make do with writing fan fiction (and yes, reading it too – one of my guilty pleasures!) and sobbing gently into my pillow with the unfairness of ER getting 15 seasons. Fifteen? Imagine that.

(We’d get to see President Santos reforming health care and managing to include a public option; freakishly intelligent curly haired, dimpled blonde children grow up to also be very organized and a little bit arrogant, and take over the world; and Sam finally seeing the light and marrying his French tutor, who looks a lot like me. Anyway.)

I really loved this – the way it explored the issues and taught me so much in the process, which is one of the hallmarks of the West Wing as a whole; the Aaron Sorkinesque one-liners; and, let’s face it, I wasn’t entirely opposed to the focus on Josh, either.

How amazing would it have felt to be one of those kids in Political Classroom?

I guess pretty much as amazing as it felt to get to be one of those younger actors in the West Wing. I loved the guy Josh called “Fred”, and the fact that Josh saw himself in him. That was moving. Moving also for me because I have often been that kid, or at least liked to think of myself at that kid. “Most people weren’t the smartest kid in the class,” Toby says elsewhere. “Most people didn’t even like the smartest kid in the class.” But what’s that compared to Josh Lyman looking you in the eye and saying “keep doing what you’re doing”? Wow. It’s enough to make you proud to be a geek – and that’s something it takes some of us a long time to learn.

It must be almost as amazing as Bradley Whitford looking you in the eye as an actor and saying the same thing.

Anyone know what any of those younger actors are up to these days?

Claire's West Wing article

Implausible as it may sound, I happen to know that someone googled "Claire Handscombe West Wing article" today. Sadly, they would have come up with nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

Well, okay, not quite zilch. We'll call it zilch plus one. They would have come up with my west wing fan fiction, which is how I know they googled it the first place, but that's another story.

But they would not have found my article.

Which is sad. Tragic, almost.

So, dear fans, be disappointed no longer. (Fans of mine, or fans of the West Wing, who knows - or are the two synonymous these days? There go those delusions of grandeur again...)

By way of introduction and a quick plug, this article was written for a fantastic language-learning magazine called the MAG, which is available for advanced students of French, Dutch and English, and which I highly recommend, and not only for the penetrating insights shared by some of the contributors. (Ahem. Those delusions again...) Not even just for my dulcit tones which make an occasional appearance on the accompanying CD.

I wanted to scan in the actual article, but both my computer and my technological powers have failed me, so for now text only will have to do.

So without further ado, here it is - written for an audience who have likely never heard of the amazing viewing experience that is my favo(u)rite TV show... but have hopefully now all been converted!


It’s ten years since the pilot episode of The West Wing was aired, but the TV show still inspires devotion that goes way beyond the norm for a television programme, and arguably with good reason. It informs and educates even the most politically ignorant, but never patronises. But that’s not all it does: it makes you laugh, cry, gasp and occasionally shout and perhaps throw things at your television.

The West Wing gives us a behind-the-scenes look at what goes on in politics, in much the same way as ER does with hospitals, or the Wire with the legal world. As the name suggests, it is set in the West Wing of the White House, under the fictional (left-leaning, Democratic) President Bartlet, and features his family, senior staff, and other political types, such as journalists. Sound boring? Think again.

In the words of the late John Spencer, who played Leo (Chief of Staff and closest advisor to President Bartlet): “The West Wing is about human relationships, the backdrop is politics in the White House. But, basically, it's about ... these people who have worked together and formed complex friendships over the years.”

And these people are not just anybody. They are fantastically written, brilliantly portrayed, and complex. (Kudos to Aaron Sorkin, the creator and original writer, for that and so many things). It has been said that “in fiction, in order to engage our attention and sympathy, the central character must want and want intensely."; politicians at this level are deeply passionate people, and that is perhaps the key. This passion in the characters is intensely captivating – you find yourself rooting for them, crying with them, wanting to hug them. Of course, it does not hurt that several of them are rather attractive.

There are even a few love interests, subtly interwoven into the plot, and often doomed and difficult, most notably the smouldering romance between Josh Lyman and his devoted and highly capable assistant Donna Moss. The chemistry between them manages to gently simmer for seven seasons until... well, you’ll just have to watch it and see.

This show has everything you could possibly want from a television series: drama, humour, suspense, superlative acting from an amazing cast. The writing is fast paced and intelligent, with dozens of fantastic one-liners which fans delight in pulling out of their hats at any opportunity. The filming has also been deservedly praised, and the thoughtfully matched, often haunting music also merits a mention. Critical acclaim has been overwhelming, in the shape of 27 Emmy awards and many more nominations for individual actors, the casting as a whole, and various aspects of the writing, filming and music.

Whether you tune into the West Wing with a good grasp of American politics, or with no clue whatsoever, you will come away having learned something, whether it’s the meaning of an obscure Latin phrase such as “post hoc, ergo propter hoc” , or that there are only three words in the English language that start with “dw”. You will have been “ensorcelled” and “bewitched” by the characters (to quote one of them), the big themes, and the outstanding writing. You may even start planning a trip to America or writing fan fiction.

You risk losing a large chunk of your life to the West Wing if you cave to temptation and buy the boxed set of DVDs (currently priced at just under £50 on Amazon.co.uk, a bargain by any standards) . You may be hooked for life. You may never be the same again.

You have been warned.

You know your addiction to the West Wing is beyond all hope of redemption when...

...you get the cravings. You know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, there is still hope for you

... you're listening to Eva Cassidy's "Fields of Gold", and think you heard, "you'll remember me when the West Wing moves"

... you know exactly how long it’s been since you last watched an episode

... you are proud of yourself when you get through the day without watching an episode, so you reward yourself with some fan fic, a fan video, or some discussion on Facebook or twitter and end up spending longer on this than an episode would have taken

... except, of course, that an episode always takes an hour at the absolute minimum because you have to rewatch every Josh and Donna scene, pause to scribble down particularly good one-liners, and occasionally tweet to let the emotion out. And then if the inspiration strikes for writing some fan fic, well, what can you do...

... there being a B in the president's name, it sometimes happens that you are listening to Radio Four and think they are talking about President Bartlet. In your defence, this is usually while cooking or clattering about - so lots of background noise.

... you visit New York City and half expect to bump into Janel Moloney and become best friends with her. In fact, you do a double taken every time you see anyone blonde. You’re sure you saw her husband, too.

... you are more excited, in fact, that “wow, she has, like, actually been in this coffee shop” than about Macy’s or the Statue of Liberty or the tall buildings or anything, you know, normal.

... you visit Washington DC (of course), wander around in a happy daze, but are actually a little surprised and disappointed not to bump into Josh, Donna, Sam or CJ

... every time the Capitol building comes into view, you hear Josh in your head: “you want a piece of me? Come on! I’m right here” and you want to hug him. More than usual, that is.

... you get very cross when anyone misspells Janel Moloney’s name (it’s with an O people, where have you been all this time?!) even though there was a time when you thought not spelling it Maloney was just plain awkward for the sake of it.

.... in fact one of your characters in a future book is going to have that surname, just so her quirk can be “and it’s Moloney with a O.”

... speaking of future books, they all have politics in, and you have to figure out how to get the heroes not to all look like Brad and the heroines to not all look like Janel. Or you could just cast them in all the films. Yeah, come to think of it, that’s a much better solution.

... you weren’t going to bother with a pen name, but you like “Lyman”, so why not?

... you are in denial about the fact that Brad Whitford is, in fact, old enough to be your father. After all, your father is old enough to be his, just about, so it’s all okay, right?!

... you look up the name “Donnatella” on a website for baby names because you’re sure it should only be spelled with one N. And as it turns out, you’re right. But I guess the whole “It’s Dona, with 1 N” thing would have worn thin after a series or two.

... you inexplicably find yourself buying a lot of argyle, feeling like someone stylish and cool would wear this stuff, then realise while watching series 5 and 6 that Donna Moss in fact wears quite a lot of it.

... you have developed a habit of tilting your head when listening intently, and never knew where it came from till you just spotted Josh doing it

... you see a book that makes you laugh and think “I should buy that for Josh for Christmas, he’d like it”

... you are still boycotting everything with Rob Lowe in it, because you haven't forgiven him for his treacherous departure which was such a loss to the show, despite giving us more Josh, which is a (obviously) no bad thing

... you find yourself explaining the American political system to your bewildered students, who really couldn’t care less and whose level of English is not quite up to differentiating between Congress and Senate.

... you give a gold star to one of your students for knowing who Martin Sheen is and for picking Josh Lyman out of a picture of the cast. Well, it’s good to encourage their comprehension of authentic Anglophone culture.

... your students, in fact, know to say “it’s amazing” whenever you ask “what can anyone tell me about the West Wing?”

... you pester your editor to let you write about the West Wing, then you use your own article in a lesson.

... “dimple” is a word that you feel you need to include when you are teaching your students to describe people

... you get your students, who have explicitly told you they want to learn about British English (which you used to think was laudable) to try and name all the States, and are a little proud of them for knowing Wisconsin, and even more proud of yourself for resisting the temptation to tell them that Donna Moss and Brad Whitford both come from there

... you find yourself thinking in an American accent and adopting American vocab, and, shock horror, even grammar.

... the day inevitably comes when your spell-check (which in days gone by, you had, of course, set to British English) has to correct you when, for the first time, you write “color”, and it’s not on purpose.

... your list of must-haves for future partners has grown from just “single, male and passionate for God” to all those things plus American, Harvard-educated (okay, Yale or Princeton at a push), incredibly articulate, and of course Democrat-voting, though to be honest the chances of you falling for a Republican were always pretty (sorry, quite) remote. (Although, if it can happen to Donna... ) The furrowed brow and receding hairline you could probably live without, and you’ll (reluctantly) trade the dimple in for a passion for the West Wing. Otherwise, what will you do in the evenings? And what will you talk about?!

... You start planning to help out in the next Obama campaign, and wondering if that is, in fact, where this amazing yet slightly vulnerable man in need of an assistant and the love of a good woman is hiding.

... You spend longer communicating with people you have met via discussion groups on Facebook than you do with friends you have known for years. Oops.

... you’re watching a film, and you want to shout, “but where’s the politics in this?”

... and then you want to shout, “but where is Bradley Whitford? Who am I meant to be in love with here?"

... You have regular West Wing related dreams, your favourite one to date being the one where you are explaining to Matt Perry why it’s better than Friends. This in front of your heroes, Brad Whitford and Janel Moloney. Stupid alarm clock!

... People have to ask you to stop putting things like “wishes Josh would hurry up and kiss Donna” in your Facebook status updates, because you are ruining the plot for them

... you feel guilty writing a list like this and not yet mentioning Allison Janney, whom you love, and who was your favourite for a long time until your Josh and Donna addiction fully took over

.... you are determined to make it back to NYC next time Allison Janney is in a musical, or any of the cast are in anything at all in fact

... in fact, you need to set up a Google Alert for that, to go with the ones you already have on “the West Wing”, “Bradley Whitford”, “Janel Moloney”

... You are dedicating your next novel to Brad and Janel, and mentioning Aaron Sorkin in the acknowledgements for inspiring you to write

... You are in on a Friday night writing this list... but it’s okay, you’re going out to meet a friend soon, and she hasn’t even heard of the West Wing. You'll soon fix that...