Tell Me Again How You Hurt Your Hand Josh
In times of incertitude and tragedy, I ever plough to The West Wing. Not because information technology is a comforting show; in fact, it feels almost counterintuitive to lookout because of its emotional weightiness. Trying to find an episode that is consistently upbeat is nearly incommunicable. So many of them are centered on injustices and sudden cruelties, from political losses to bodily violence. Yet, I return to The Westward Wing over and over because, despite its tendency to be preachy (at times embarrassingly so) or its superiority complex, there is much to exist gleaned from its compassionate handling of tragedies. The show becomes a guide to coping with the crushing weight of trauma, or meditations in an emergency.
Because of The West Wing's quick walk-and-talk pacing, moments where we get to meet the characters processing trauma are often shoehorned into an episode as a manner to add together texture to a show and so heavily focused on the minutiae of big-flick politics. A tragedy occurs, but it is one of a hundred tragedies that happened that twenty-four hours lone. Nosotros take to motility on quickly; aftercare becomes almost an afterthought. Notwithstanding, when the show slowed down enough to procedure trauma in-depth, information technology managed to produce some of the about powerful, moving scenes ever aired on television, such as President Bartlet (Martin Sheen) cursing God in Latin in "2 Cathedrals," or ever-loyal Donna Moss's (Janel Moloney) heartbreaking realization that her boss has been shot in "In The Shadow of Two Gunmen." Processing hurting and tragedy is a place where The Due west Wing succeeds as a show, picking and prodding at a wound until it hurts, so that the healing tin begin.
"Noël" was a rare episode of The Due west Wing that focused almost exclusively on the internal trauma of a single graphic symbol, Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford). At the beginning of the second season, Josh was shot in an set on on the President, his family, and his staff. A two-part flavor-opener is dedicated to the fallout from the Rosslyn shooting; everyone is allowed a few cursory moments to examine their hurting, except Josh, who is in hours-long surgery. In fact, when Josh wakes up from said surgery, he asks the president, in an unheard whisper, "What'due south next?" Ready to move on from the incident and swoop right back into the work.
"Noël" doesn't really seem similar a holiday-themed episode, merely rather an episode that just happens to take identify during the holidays—much like the holiday-flavored episode "Bartlet for America" the post-obit year. The seasonal elements of the episode— the congressional Christmas party and the president's insistence on signing his Christmas cards by mitt despite the listing of recipients numbering over a million—are virtually wholly relegated to the B plot. In the start 15 minutes, "Noël" seems poised to politely acknowledge the holidays and and then become dorsum to (political) business concern.
Christmas episodes of TV shows oft draw on the themes that are inherently connected to the flavor through the chiliad narrative—themes of togetherness, warmth, and light-hearted stress that but seem to exist in sitcoms, piddling family dramas that tin be hands solved within the half-hour, possibly incorporating a ballad or two by the fireplace. If handled improperly, Christmas episodes easily get filler, to be skipped in subsequent Netflix viewings, because they reiterate these typical narratives of peace and joy in a (ironically) soulless way. And what'southward more than, nosotros've seen information technology all before. Christmas episodes are and so oft a bad endeavour to re-souvenir old narratives yr later on year. They feel more than contrived; add a little bit of snow and the glow of Christmas lights to a mediocre plot to manipulate emotion and and so motility on to a better episode instead. However, in a show similar The Westward Wing, which deals almost exclusively in emotional weight, a vacation episode cannot be wasted rehashing the usual themes. "Noël" could have been filler had it approached the consequence of mental health in a "rub some dirt on it and move on" type of manner, or even ignored it completely in favor of a more familiar sitcom-esque plot. Merely this is The Westward Wing, and educating the public through tv set was ever its modus operandi.
At start, life goes on at the White House without much regard for the season, save for a few passing references to poinsettias and Christmas trees, bagpipe players playing "Greenish Sleeves" in the antechamber, and the president's Christmas cards. Merely as the episode continues, the holiday season gradually becomes a set piece—integral to the emotional breakup of Josh Lyman, fueled past his post-traumatic stress.
The Christmas cheer begins to audio like panic.
There's a strong urge on the office of the Due west Wing staffers to not feel out of step with the holiday spirit; there'southward a certain performativity that comes with Christmas, and participation is all but required. Even contemptuous curmudgeon Toby Ziegler (Richard Schiff) attempts to participate in the sentimentality. When Josh questions Toby's conclusion to hire various musicians to play in the West Wing's antechamber, he snippily responds: "The last two Christmases in the White House, I've been accused of not existence in the proper spirit. I was called names. Not this year! For the side by side three weeks, I will be filling this lobby with music in the mornings and evenings so that we may all feel this season of…peace and joy."
Josh bristles at what should be considered holiday cheer. He's chary, shouting at his staff for perceived loudness. He sticks out in an otherwise lighthearted episode, emotionally out of sync with his swain coworkers and friends. Josh'south inability to appreciate the Highland Delaware Regiment'southward rendition of "What Child is This"—likening information technology to sirens that he can hear all over the building—alerts Toby to an impending breakdown. The manner in which Toby intones Josh's proper name, as if it were an oh-so-delicate question of his emotional state, is genuinely heartbreaking. The commonly cheerful sounds of Christmas music become a trigger for Josh, a reminder of the deafening sirens from the Rosslyn attack. The conflation of the two raises the alert for his unaddressed trauma.
Afterward yelling at President Bartlet in a panicked outburst in the Oval Office, Josh is ordered by the Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry (John Spencer), to sit with a psychologist from the American Trauma Victims Association. Josh's response to a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder, later a especially harsh therapy session, is peradventure even more upsetting now in light of contempo generalizations about PTSD from President-Elect Trump, which drew swift criticism from veterans' groups for reinforcing the stigma that nevertheless surrounds the disorder. Josh'due south revelation that PTSD "doesn't really audio like something they allow you accept if you work for the President" sheds light on his biggest fearfulness: that he will have to exist removed from his job considering he is unfit, all of a sudden unqualified to serve considering of the stigma surrounding trauma-induced mental instability.
I hesitate to agree wholeheartedly whenever someone labels The West Wing "comfort telly." I e'er need clarification. Usually, they hateful the show is comforting because it frequently worked every bit an antonym to actual American politics at the time; information technology showcased a parallel universe wherein intellectualism and passion intersected, where public servants were soft-hearted, quick-witted, and well-spoken. It depicted an America that could never truly be, but ane we longed for anyhow.
Just was the show really all that comforting? At its heart, The Westward Wing's goal was to agitate, to educate, to spark uncomfortable conversations. It was more than similar an actual therapy session, akin to Josh'southward in "Noel"—a place to go to talk it out, to consult the experts. But nigh importantly, The West Wing was a consistently motivating strength to go upward and go exercise the piece of work, together.
At the stop of the day, each fellow member of President Bartlet'due south staff was dedicated not only to the wellbeing of the land, but also to i another, as highlighted in Leo's famous monologue to Josh at the end of "Noël":
"This guy'southward walking down a street, when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep. He tin can't go out. A dr. passes by, and the guy shouts up 'Hey yous! Can you lot help me out?' The doc writes him a prescription, throws it down the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes forth and the guy shouts up 'Father, I'one thousand down in this hole, tin you help me out?' The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. And so a friend walks past. 'Hey Joe, it's me, tin can you assistance me out?' And the friend jumps in the pigsty! Our guy says 'Are you stupid? Now we're both downwardly hither!' and the friend says, 'Yep, but I've been downwardly here before, and I know the fashion out.'"
What "Noël" so cleverly does is to explore the nuance of the oft-clichéd theme of togetherness. In dealing with the darkness of pent-upward trauma, it recognizes that the sitcom-esque tone that Christmas typically implies would downplay the seriousness of the issue. Leo's chestnut well-nigh the man in the hole works because it recognizes and legitimizes the inherent darkness of struggling alone. Togetherness for The West Wing is a different sentiment entirely, one that values community and back up. "As long as I take a task, you accept a job," assures Leo.
The episode ends with the return of Josh'due south trigger: music. As Donna leads Josh away for the evening, a grouping of carolers outside the White House sing the "Carol of the Bells." The scene mimics the sensations of panic; the camera swerves in a boundless style, disorienting the viewer. As the episode ends, the song mingles with the audio of distant sirens, and Josh's optics glaze over. But this time, Donna links arms with him, leading him away from the carolers—a literal support organisation for him. The moment serves as a reminder that recovery is not firsthand, and that Christmas isn't a interruption button for trauma. In fact, Christmas stresses often irritate underlying, festering mental wounds, bringing them to the surface—the warm bustle of the pitcher becomes a panicked crowd, Yo-Yo Ma'south Prelude to Bach's Cello Suite No.1 a reminder of echoing sirens post-gunfire.
"Noël" isn't a traditional Christmas episode in the sense that Christmas isn't the force that ultimately saves the day. At that place isn't a magical, unexpected snowfall or even the giving of sentimental gifts (à la Josh to Donna in the first season's more traditional Christmas episode "In Excelsis Deo"). Instead, the saving force is a network of coworkers-turned-family members that are all steadfastly committed to each other's survival. Existence together isn't only exchanging gifts, sharing meals, and singing by the fireside. Togetherness demands a sure level of empathy that oftentimes brings us out of our own comfort zones. But there is something reassuring most the dedication to 1 some other that is required of the states.
After a particularly trying election season in the real world, when the darkness seemed to be closing in and I often felt panicked, I returned to The West Wing, seeking out not but its empathetic take on politics, merely also the solace inherent in familiarity. I picked "Noël" considering I remembered it existence a particularly good episode, and Christmas-themed at that, completely forgetting that Leo's "human being in the hole" monologue was tucked near the end of the episode. It still gets me, that kind of stubborn support of one another upon which the show seems thematically founded. The willingness to dig down with your troubled friend and work through the darkness together, because you've been there before and you know the style out.
Isn't that what Christmas is all nigh?
Source: https://www.brightwalldarkroom.com/2016/12/12/when-christmas-cheer-sounds-like-panic-the-west-wings-noel/
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