'Studio's' problem is sketchy details

BY VERNE GAY | Newsday Staff Writer

September 18, 2006

Bradley Whitford (standing), Matthew Perry and Amanda Peet star in "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" (NBC Photo)

Show-biz people are fascinated by show biz, though it's never been clear whether everyone else is - a reason why television drama has mostly steered clear of the subject. But late-night Saturday TV should be an exception, right? Just think - drugs, clashing egos, vanity, booze, sex, insanity, silliness. And then there's all the stuff that happens off-screen (BA-dum).

Aaron Sorkin chose this world for his post-"West Wing" coming-out party because people under horrendous stress, time pressures, deadlines and emotional/ethical turmoil are the stuff of superior drama. At least they were with "Wing" and occasionally even with his 1998-2000 dramedy, "Sports Night." "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" is another story altogether.

That's too bad because "Studio 60" is, after all, taking up space on a schedule that would otherwise be occupied by another Jerry Bruckheimer show (or the like). This is something different from two of the more talented guys in TV, Sorkin and producing-directing partner Tommy Schlamme. There's a wonderful cast here led by Matthew Perry (in his first post-"Friends" series) and "Wing's" Bradley Whitford, as Matt Albie and Danny Tripp, respectively, a brilliant late-night writing-producing duo and a metaphor for Sorkin himself. (Like them, Sorkin left TV and came back, and like Tripp, Sorkin also had a well-publicized "controlled substance" problem.) There's even an intriguing core idea: the culture wars and how TV has turned us into a nation of gum-popping zombies.

But the show also feels phony from beginning to end. Sorkin doesn't know what he doesn't know, and worse, doesn't seem to care. The goal is to reveal how TV subverts democracy, art and free speech. But verisimilitude becomes just an afterthought and, as such, a casualty.

In the opening moments, "Studio 60" founding producer Wes Mendell - played by Judd Hirsch, and not to be confused with "Saturday Night Live's" Lorne Michaels - is emasculated by a network standards-and-practices weasel whowon't allow an inflammatory sketch, "Crazy Christians," on that night's edition. Summoning his inner Howard Beale, Mendell then disrupts a sketch in progress to proclaim on air that his "show has been lobotomized by the candy-ass broadcasting corporation." (The network's name is National Broadcasting System.)

"People are having contests to see how much they can be like Donald Trump" (among the first of literally dozens of current pop-culture mentions in "Studio 60").

The problem here is that Sorkin's reference points feel prehistoric. "Network" was fresh and relevant in 1976 when Fred Silverman was the Genghis Khan of a three-network world; the network honchos are just faces in a crowd in 2006. And has Sorkin even watched late-night TV lately? The standards guys have been bound, gagged and locked in the cleaning closet.

Another not insignificant problem: With the exception of "Jimmy Kimmel Live" (broadcast live for a midnight airing in New York while tape-delayed in L.A.), late-night shows don't originate live from Los Angeles because they'd air in New York in the middle of the night. "Studio 60" wraps at 1 a.m. Pacific time, or 4 a.m. in New York. (In a word, huh?)

After Mendell is canned, Jordan McDeere (Amanda Peet, "Syriana"), NBS' new quick-thinking entertainment president, reaches out to Albie and Tripp, much to the chagrin of her new boss, Jack Rudolph (Steven Weber), because he fired both from "Studio 60" four years earlier. Since Tripp can't get bonding on a movie he wanted to make after failing a drug test, both are available, although why this isn't an impediment to employment at a publicly traded television network either is never made clear.

Albie also just broke up with "Studio 60" star Harriet Hayes (Sarah Paulson, "Deadwood"). She's a born-again Christian who leads other cast members in prayer before each show, though her awkward presence here feels suspiciously like an NBC mandate to provide some balance to Sorkin's own left-leaning tendencies. (She's reportedly based on Broadway star and former Sorkin girlfriend Kristin Chenoweth.)

Sorkin and Schlamme try to get around these bumps and inconsistencies with some razzle and dazzle. As always, Sorkin's writing is frequently fun and - better yet - lacks the oratorical windiness of "The West Wing." Schlamme only rarely resorts to "Wing's" trademark tracking shots and has instead mounted a slick, beautiful-looking show that rarely flags.

So here's to Aaron and Tommy: TV needs more of them. Who knows? Maybe they'll even get the details right someday.

STUDIO 60 ON THE SUNSET STRIP. Aaron Sorkin's newest show is not - we repeat not - based on "Saturday Night Live." Maybe it should have been. Premieres tonight at 10 on NBC/4.