Too Smart for Our Own Good?
I'm too old to be governed by fear of dumb people. - Charlie Skinner
To talk about an Aaron Sorkin show is to talk about the man behind the show as much as the show itself. Sorkin is a man who is so intimately involved with his art - a writer who cultivates his subjects as if they were reflections of his own self - that it's often tough to know where Aaron Sorkin ends and where the characters begin. He's a staggeringly smart writer, a man who not only holds grand, sweeping, idealistic sentiments about the American dream, but someone who's also intellectually insightful enough and creatively passionate enough to write about such topics. Indeed, his characters are often presented as the smartest people in the room. And they know it. They're dry, sarcastic, scathing, witty, brilliant, arrogant, and more often than not, extremely amusing. And I'm sure it's by no coincidence that one could also easily describe Sorkin as such.
Critics seem to differ on Sorkin, often labeling him as "elitist" or "pompous." They seem to argue his East Coast, left-wing, Ivy-League sensibilities tend to alienate the common viewer, that his characters aren't relatable and speak too fast or act too pointedly. His scripts are too talky, too preachy, too - for lack of a better word - smart. But even Sorkin will readily admit that he isn't that smart. He, like the characters he creates, are only pretending to know what they're doing:
Oftentimes, I write about people who are smarter than I am and know more than I do, and I am able to do that simply by being tutored almost phonetically, sometimes. I’m used to it. I grew up surrounded by people who are smarter than I am, and I like the sound of intelligence. I can imitate that sound, but it’s not organic. It’s not intelligence. It’s my phonetic ability to imitate he sound of intelligence.As Will McAvoy, the anchor of the titular newsroom, notes in a brief moment of reflection, "We [Americans] reached for the stars... we aspired to intelligence. We didn't belittle it. It didn't make us feel inferior." Will, clearly serving as a proxy for Sorkin, believes that America's woes stem from, quite simply, stupidity. He believes that the common people are undereducated or perhaps even worse, miseducated. "The majority of Americans are preternaturally stupid," Will admits. He sees journalism and the spreading of information people want to hear as opposed to the information people need to hear as the root of the problem. So he appoints himself the crusading savior of this country's ailments. He makes it sound simple enough: better educate the public of its ignorance and our nation will improve and the American dream will flourish.
This idea to better educate the general public is a battle Sorkin has fought before. I'm reminded of his most recent TV excursion back in 2006, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. It featured the same brand of exuberantly brainy characters volleying verbal jabs and haymakers as they landed points and counterpoints about America's political, religious, and social environment. The show started off strong but soon after, began sliding dangerously in ratings until it was eventually cancelled after one season. Yet, the curious thing about its decline wasn't just that its popularity diminished over time. Rather, it was the specific demographics which diminished over time. Indeed, it was noted that despite tepid viewership overall, Studio 60 performed extremely well in key "upscale demographics," defined as adults 18-49 living in homes with $75,000-plus and $100,000-plus incomes and in homes where the head of the household has four or more years of college. Or maybe in other words, "smart" people liked the show and the rest of America didn't.
I fear The Newsroom is on track to repeat this decline. And that is a shame. Already, critics are lashing out that Sorkin's new show is nothing more than "a cabal of proud, disdainful brainiacs" and questioning if it's too soon to call it "a flop." And that is an even bigger shame. It seems to me that what passes for entertainment these days is some obtuse mixture of Armenian socialite voyeurism, bouts of public humiliation posing as talent shows, and fumbling non-articulate housewives masquerading as comedy or drama, but excelling at neither. Whatever happened to art? Whatever happened to exposing something honest, to reflecting our own selves unto entertainment? We wouldn't dream of real wit of rhetoric anymore, right? Of people who are eloquent and verbose and pointed? Of articulate anger or incredulity or sarcasm? Of knowing humor and poignant observations? Of topics that dared to push the general envelope of the American culture, prompting us to debate, review, and dare I say it, think?
With The Newsroom, it's clear to me that Sorkin is remaining steadfastly unapologetic in his views. Indeed, his complaint about America is that articulacy and diligence and intelligence are becoming the apologetic retreat from progression and advancement while sensationalism and celebrity and stupidity are corrupting the nation, politically and socially. He's writing from an idealism that America is indeed, not the greatest nation in the world. But it still can be. Surely, it's a romantic thought, an idea that may or may not be true. But one thing's for sure: Sorkin's neither ironic nor sarcastic in this belief. He believes we needn't pander to the American people or apologize for seriousness. He believes in our ability to acknowledge our problems; he believes in our understandings of a world seemingly overwrought with wars, instability, and dangers; and he believes in our realization that we are not as dumb as others may think. And that's a belief that shouldn't be criticized or ridiculed, but an ideal to which we should aspire.
