Toby's back! Plus, riffs on famous moments in campaigns.
9.5
"Superb"
Toby's participation in Santos's campaign is something I've been looking for since his departure from the White House. I first thought Santos would embrace him; then, after Josh's visit, I realized what his role would be: gadfly, outsider, but still valuable.
The mixed value of Toby's advice essentially put Toby's strengths and weaknesses on display tonight. Traditionally, Toby has always been message and Josh has always been tactics; tonight, you have Toby giving Josh advice on tactics, and Josh taking it, if only because Toby seems the only person in Josh's ambit who speaks with absolute certainty. And the funny thing is, Toby's advice actually would have worked, had not Vinick gone and done his "Talk-it-to-death" press conference, which is a little like saying you played the cards right, and would have won, had not the Ace come up on the river.
It was tonight I returned to something I had thought about before: just what is the genesis of Toby and Josh's relationship? We were presented early on that Leo and Bartlet were best friends; that Sam and Josh were old college friends; that Leo was old friends with Josh's father; that Toby and CJ respected one another from their past work in liberal causes, usually lost ones. One would have to think that Toby and Josh, as political operatives, would have known each other previous to the first Barlet campaign--but when? How? This episode made me wonder more than ever. And if this last season wasn't dying in the ratings, if I were an NBC exec I'd call up a "Toby and Josh: the Early Years" movie of the week.
I'm a big fan of the electoral college, but the strange nature of 2000+ politics is that Democratic strongholds (Pacific coast, Great Lakes, New York, New Jersey, New England) and Republican strongholds (Great Plains, Rocky Mountains, Confederacy minus Florida) are basically a wash. The last two elections, each candidate started out with 220 electoral votes, and it was left for the voters of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Iowa, Florida, and New Mexico to determine the winner. Thus the obsession with California--Vinick realizing he doesn't need it to win, but Santos does, and so deciding to go out there. (Having spent considerable amount of time in California, including my undergrad years at USC, I can attest that Vinik's riff on the state as the real homeland is spot-on, with one exception: it is, in the aggregate, much more liberal than the country as a whole.)
Clearly, this episode meant to echo the last-minute frenetic pace of real-life campaigns past. How does one count the ways?
Vinick's hand fracture: a wonderful recall of Bill Clinton's laryngitis in 1992. Does anyone remember?
The Talk-until-they-drop press conference: echoes of Geraldine Ferraro, 1984. She couldn't carry her state nor even her congressional district, but when questions regarding her husband surfaced, she dumped everything on the table and let them have at it, until the reporters had run out of questions. Alan Alda deserves that damn Emmy, people.
The briefcase: two moments in history. People forget how closely Carter and Reagan were running in 1980, right up until their late-October debate, when Reagan clobbered Carter and ran out to a ten-point lead and 44-state landslide. The rumor surfaced in August, 1983 (August being the month of political silliness, see: Sheehan, Cindy), that the Reagan camp had stolen Carter's debate briefing book and had prepared Reagan accordingly. (The notion that Jimmy Carter would ever have secrets worth stealing is another matter entirely.)
The briefcase II: the child revelation, with its echoes of W's drunk-driving conviction, except, Lawrence O'Donnell being same, the Dem is guiltless, and is in fact reaching out. I knew two things early: that Vinick would never run to the press with Santos's briefcase; and that Santos did not have a child out of wedlock.
Finally, on another matter: The last time Vinick opened his mouth against advice, he was butchered. We might have anticipated the same this time, but no: this is a show that reasonably cofounds expectations.
How about a wild prediction? Lawrence O'Donnell has been trying to reduce George W. Bush to powder, one talking point at a time. So let's say they go back to 2000, the election goes to the Supreme Court, and Santos wins--with Justice Mendoza casting the deciding vote for state's rights.
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