Recap: 1-01 “Pilot”
The show starts as the show starts — or rather, as Simon warms up the crowd for the Friday live broadcast of the show within the show. As Simon describes the theater to the studio audience, we’re snaking around backstage, through sets, past props, in true Schlamme style. One of the sets is an open subway car, and just like many a real subway, somebody’s getting mugged there. Only the thief isn’t after a wallet or a cellphone, but a man’s dignity and professional self-respect.
The victim is Wes Mendell, the man in charge of Studio 60, and his attacker is Jerry, a sniveling little weasel from Standards and Practices. Jerry wants Wes to cut an unnamed sketch. Wes maintains that it’s funny, but funny isn’t Jerry’s concern. Religious folk who might be offended are, and though Wes holds his ground for a bit and attempts to get network bigwigs on the phone (they’re all at a dinner party, as we shall soon see), in the end, Jerry is right that he no longer has the muscle to resist.
And so the sketch is cut, to be replaced by something called “Peripheral Vision Man,” to the underwhelment of those in the control room. That’s not the only part of the show that’s in trouble, though. Guest host Felicity Huffman is concerned about two things: The changes in the monologue she thought would be coming after the original fell flat in dress rehearsal are not on her new cue cards; and her wardrobe choices are “slutty dress” and “very slutty dress.” She corners a lost-looking Wes and forces a discussion of the monologue, but while he admits it stinks, he’s not inclined to do much about it other than confirm her fears. That leaves her asking for “the very slutty dress … and somebody else to wear it.”
Despite these disappointments brewing, the show must go on. And it starts off easily enough, with two characters in the Oval Office making jokes that highlight Bush’s dumbness. But Wes is mumbling to himself in his chair, then telling them to stop the sketch, then walking on camera and instructing the actors to get out of there so they won’t be implicated in what he’s about to do. It takes a while for the studio audience to realize that this isn’t an act, and they’re not supposed to be laughing. Quickly, though, it becomes apparent that nothing about what Wes is saying is supposed to be funny.
Jerry’s on his feet pretty quickly, blasting into the control room and ordering Cal, the director, to pull the plug. Cal’s having some conflict over that, though: On the one hand, he has two children in a private school, and he’d like to not lose this and any hope of a future job. On the other hand, he supports Wes, and wants to take orders from him rather than some weasel. “I’m waiting for him to stop telling the truth,” Cal stalls. In the end, he leaves Wes on for 53 seconds, during which the man commits professional suicide by railing against the cowardice of the network, the obscenity of reality TV, the stupidness of the American populace, the tyranny of groups who threaten boycotts, and whatever else he can find to hurl invective at.
The actors stand by, watching this train wreck. Felicity Huffman peeks out from the wings; one cast member, Simon Stiles, starts toward Wes, but another, Tom Jeter (in Bush costume), holds him back. It’s clear that this is something Wes wants to do, and he’s prepared to take the consequences. Hard to watch, and hard to look away.
Wes is still going when Cal finally cuts to the opening credits, and we cut right with him. After the commercial break, we return to a scene that’s the height of calm and taste and control — so not Studio 60, clearly. No, we’re at that aforementioned dinner party, the one that’s gathered all the National Broadcasting System brass to celebrate the arrival of Jordan McDeere, who’s taking over the NBS presidency on Monday. Wilson White, owner of the company that owns NBS, turns a toast into a reading of Jordan’s resume, so we all know where she’s coming from and what she’s expected to do — that is, raise the network to new heights, right now. No pressure.
Jordan is just beginning to deliver a speech of thanks (and also make a faux pas by thanking the caterers, oh no!) when an urgent message is brought to her. As she goes to use the phone, the cellphones of every bigwig at the table begin to chime. Gee, you don’t suppose something’s gone wrong with the company’s flagship comedy show, do you?
It’s a jolt to go from the lovely dinner party with tinkling piano music back to the studio, where the Three 6 Mafia are rapping up a storm. Probably a jolt for the dinner party attendees, too, many of whom are now here to watch a tape of Wes’s meltdown and try to clean up the mess. Jack Rudolph, NBS chairman, seizes the rappers’ dressing room for viewing purposes, though it’s enveloped in marijuana smoke. He orders the removal of the bong and loose joints, and demands a tape that will actually fit in the machine — “We work in television!” He also questions Jerry, who says Wes snapped after he ordered a sketch cut, and that Cal’s job should be cut, too.
As soon as she hears that a sketch was cut, Jordan sneaks off to go find Wes. She asks him about the sketch, but their conversation is cut short when Jack walks, fires Wes, and orders him escorted off the property. Jordan says she’s sorry, and seems to mean it.
The news media have by this time gotten wind of the story, and as Jack and Jordan watch a huge bank of TVs, a series of reporters make labored references to Paddy Chayefsky, the movie Network, and the movie’s famous “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore” speech. Jordan thinks it’s nice that they’ve at least heard of Paddy Chayefsky, but Jack’s not amused.
They proceed into a conference room where a huge round table full of people sits ready to discuss the ramifications of Wes’s tirade. What will it mean to the news division? advertisers? affiliates? producers of those reality shows Wes maligned? Jordan’s kind of getting a giggle out of the whole thing, and when Jack calls her on it, she explains that the problem isn’t what folks inside the company will say, it’s what those outside it will say — and that they’ll say Wes was right.
Her big idea is to make a bold gesture to demonstrate the network’s commitment to quality, and she calls Jack out into the hallway (since she can’t find her office) to give him the details: They’ll hire back Matt Albie and Danny Tripp — two former members of the Studio 60 creative team who Jack fired years ago — to run the show after Wes’s departure. Jack gives Jordan a little rope to try it, but makes it clear that he won’t be stepping up to rescue her if she hangs herself with it.
Speaking of Matt and Danny, we meet them now, sitting with others at a table at a Writer’s Guild awards dinner. There’s a crash, and Matt stands up, explaining that “I’m on some medication right now that makes me not know where chairs are.? There’s some witty banter as Matt cracks jokes and Danny helpfully explains them. Like when he’s asked how he hurt his back, Matt says, “It happened when a surgeon sliced it open with a knife,? and Danny adds, “He had back surgery a few days ago.?
Then the banter moves on to the subject of how he came to break up with his girlfriend, Studio 60 player Harriet Hayes. First, he says it’s because she was singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” at a Dodger game, and he missed it; then, because when she bragged about getting a standing ovation, he pointed out that it was the national anthem, they were already standing. It’s unclear as to whether this is the real reason, but clear that everyone at the table thinks Matt blew it.
Then Danny’s coming over to hug Matt, who’s touched that his friend realizes how broken up he is about Harriet. That’s not it, though: Matt just won an award, and Danny pushes him to the stage. Matt starts his speech by thanking Danny, “who’s never not been there for me,” and requests a spotlight on Danny’s seat … but Danny’s not in it, because he’s been called outside to hear about the situation at Studio 60, and to set Jordan’s plan into motion.
First, though, we take a side trip to the Studio 60 wrap party, to meet The Big Three, who we learned from some clunky exposition in the boardroom scene are Tom, Simon, and Harriet. The press is hounding Harriet as she walks in, looking for a quote about Wes’s meltdown, but she makes it inside. A PR type tells her that she’s the one everybody wants to talk to, because word’s starting to get out about the nature of the sketch that got cut. Harriet declares that she’s not an expert on Christian people, and agrees she doesn’t want to talk about religion anyway.
A waitress tells her that “the boys are in the back,? but Harriet sees Cal first, sitting in a booth alone, and goes to talk to him, joking “Tight show tonight.? She asks what went on in control room; he says he only made it 53 seconds before he pulled the plug, and asks if she’s talked to Matt. He mentions the “Star-Spangled Banner” story, she switches the subject back to whether Cal’s okay, and he makes it clear that he expects to get fired, too. Harriet says they’ll stick together and she’ll pray for him.
She finally makes her way back to “the guys,” and more questions about Matt and the Star-Spangled Banner. Just as she says she never wants to hear about Matt again, word comes in that he just won a WGA award. She asks Simon to let her watch him smoke a cigarette outside, and on the way out takes a little more grief, this time from a fellow cast member who ribs her about praying before the show. That guy, she puts pretty quickly in his place, with Simon backing her up.
Finally, out in the alley, Tom asks Harriet whether she was offended by the sketch. She thought it was better written than any they’d had in years, and she was surprised Wes had it in him. There’s some talk that maybe Wes didn’t write it, but who? Certainly not the two head writers, says Tom: “Ricky and Ron suddenly being able to write like that is like me suddenly being able to play the cello.? The discussion ends when the cast is called back to the studio.
The car we see pull up the studio next, though, carries not the Big Three but Matt, who’s insisting on waiting outside for his partner. Danny’s not on his way, however; he’s in a hotel room, watching Wes on tape. Jordan comes in, and they do a little cute chatting before she fills him in on her plan to have him and Matt return to Studio 60. He turns her down, but she has a secret weapon: She knows he failed a drug test and won’t be able to get a bond for the movie he and Matt are working on for eighteen months. She only needs him for two years, and will pay him handsomely besides, so it’s a win-win for everybody!
All Danny can think of is that Jordan — who is assumed to be untrustworthy because she works in television — will tell Matt about the drug test before he does. So he heads for the studio, finds Matt waiting outside, and reveals that he tested positive for cocaine. After expressing concern for his friend, and making some unlikely suggestions about bonding the movie himself or slashing the budget, Matt suddenly realizes that NBS must be using this to blackmail Danny into doing Studio 60. He runs into the building, bangs into the office where Jack and Jordan are conferring, and … blurts out Danny’s secret to everybody. Turns out Jordan wasn’t leaking it, and was trustworthy after all.
Jack gets down to negotiations, questioning Matt and Danny about what they thought of Wes’s diatribe. “I thought he tried to cram a lot of large generalities in a small period of time,” Danny hedges. Jack gets a little too sarcastic for comfort, and Danny turns down the job and storms out. But Matt says they’ll take the job, though there’s clearly bad blood between him and Jack, too, and a disagreement over whether they got fired or quit.
Matt meets up with Suzanne, an assistant, who asks if they’re there to save the show. He tells her to page everybody to the stage. He then bumps in to a cast member who’s on her way there — Harriet, his former girlfriend. He explains he’ll be her boss, so they’ll have to postpone their argument for a couple of years. But then they go right ahead and have it anyway. She asks him to stop with the “Star-Spangled Banner” story, and we finally get to the real crux of their breakup: Harriet went onto The 700 Club to promote her album of spiritual songs, and Matt finds that an unforgiveable offense. They get no closer to resolution, but Matt snipes that if she “scores for them” on Fridays, there’ll be no problem.
Matt then finds Danny, and they talk over their situation in half a taxicab that’s sitting backstage. In addition to informing his friend that they’re taking the job, Matt asks if he’s okay, and how this happened. Danny talks about falling off the wagon after eleven years, but acknowledges that from now on, he can’t screw up, because Matt’s bound to.
When they leave the cab, Jordan hails them. She has a script for Matt, and she wants him to open with it next week. Surprise! It’s the sketch Jerry insisted on cutting, catapulting Wes into his bitter speech. The sketch Harriet previously referred to as “Crazy Christians.” The sketch, as it turns out, that Matt wrote and got fired for/quit over, depending on who you’re talking to. Danny’s impressed that Jordan’s going to put it out there, and wonders if she could possibly be for real.
The show’s starting to draw to a close, but there’s one more bit of business to attend to: Cal. He tells Danny to go ahead and fire him if he has to, but Danny’s going to need him to stay — in fact, if he’d let Wes stay on for 54 seconds, he’d have earned a raise. That’s the way they do things on Studio 60 now. As the guys look around the old studio and the strains of David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” rise on the soundtrack, Danny says to Matt, “We live here now.” Not for long enough, but we’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
Tune in tomorrow for a round-up of memorable lines from the episode.
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