2012 - 2014
The Newsroom ran for three seasons on HBO from 2012 to 2014, the last of Aaron Sorkin's three TV-newsroom experiments. Before this came Sports Night on ABC and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip on NBC, both swallowed by ratings. HBO gave Sorkin a third swing and the freedom to aim higher. What he produced is probably the most divisive thing he has ever made.
The show is set inside the fictional ACN, short for Atlantis Cable News. The flagship broadcast is News Night with Will McAvoy, anchored by Jeff Daniels as a centrist Republican commentator coasting on affability until a question at a Northwestern University panel breaks him. His answer is the opening of the pilot and probably still the most-clipped thing Sorkin has written. A rant that ends on the words "America is not the greatest country in the world anymore." It goes viral in-universe, nearly ends his career, and hands the show its thesis. News Night will now try to be good, in a news cycle that keeps rewarding the opposite.
That is the engine. Will is the face, but the control room is the real ensemble. Emily Mortimer arrives in the pilot as his ex-girlfriend turned executive producer MacKenzie McHale, parachuted back into his life with a warzone reputation and unfinished business of her own. Sam Waterston is Charlie Skinner, the whisky-pouring news division president who shields his team from the network's money people. Alison Pill and John Gallagher Jr. carry a lot of the junior-producer material as Maggie Jordan and Jim Harper. Olivia Munn plays financial reporter Sloan Sabbith, Thomas Sadoski plays senior producer Don Keefer, and Dev Patel gets the blog-runner role of Neal Sampat, years ahead of his colleagues on anything involving the internet. Above the whole operation, Jane Fonda drifts in as ACN owner Leona Lansing whenever a scene needs a corporate hand grenade.
Sorkin's idea is that American cable news broke itself by chasing ratings at the cost of information, and that a better version would treat the viewer as a citizen rather than a demographic. Every episode is structured around a real event from the recent past. The pilot builds to the Deepwater Horizon rig explosion. Later episodes route through the raid on bin Laden, the Gabby Giffords shooting, the Arab Spring, the 2012 election night, the Boston Marathon bombing, and Edward Snowden. The writers wrote the scripts with the benefit of hindsight and had their fictional newsroom get the calls right first time.
This is the choice that splits audiences down the middle. Critics named it "hindsight journalism" almost immediately and the label stuck. If you buy the premise, the show becomes a thrilling argument for what journalism could look like when its gatekeepers care about the truth more than the quarter. If you don't, it reads as a lecture from a screenwriter using real tragedies to stage a fantasy about his own profession getting it right. Both readings are fair. Neither cancels the other.
Emily Mortimer
MacKenzie McHale
Hope Davis
Nina Howard
Alison Pill
Maggie Jordan
Sam Waterston
Charlie Skinner
Constance Zimmer
Taylor Warren
Olivia Munn
Sloan Sabbith
Terry Crews
Lonny Church
John Gallagher Jr.
Jim Harper
Underneath the media debate there is a second layer, which is Sorkin's usual interest in talented people who can do the work but cannot run their own lives. Will is brilliant on air and a wreck off it. Mac is a first-rate producer who cannot make a simple confession without a spreadsheet. Charlie is steady for everyone except himself. The big public arguments about how news should work sit on top of a bunch of very private arguments about whether any of these people deserve each other.
Jeff Daniels won the Outstanding Lead Actor Emmy for this role in 2013, which surprised people who thought of him as the Dumb and Dumber guy. It shouldn't have. Will McAvoy lets him work in a register he rarely gets elsewhere. Prickly, self-loathing, secretly romantic, easily wounded. The speech that opens the pilot is Daniels doing in one unbroken take what most actors would need two scenes to build.
Sam Waterston is the quiet heart of the show. Thirty years of Law and Order conditioned a generation to trust his face, and Sorkin cashes that in. Charlie Skinner's monologues about the fourth estate land because it's Waterston saying them, slightly drunk, usually in a bow tie.
Emily Mortimer and Daniels have the central romance and it plays as well as the writing allows. Mortimer does her best work in the newsroom rather than the love story, which is true of almost every romantic pairing on this show.
Olivia Munn gets the part that grew most in reputation after the fact. Sloan Sabbith is written as a financial-desk brainiac who cannot read a room, and Munn finds a specific kind of comic timing inside that. She is also the character Sorkin writes with the least paternalism, which matters, because his treatment of the women on this show is a real problem and worth naming.
The three younger leads get the roughest ride. Alison Pill plays Maggie Jordan across an anxious twenty-something romantic triangle, given a traumatic Africa plotline in season two that was widely criticised. John Gallagher Jr. plays Jim Harper with an easy decency that holds the B-plots together. Dev Patel quietly walks off with scenes as Neal Sampat whenever the story needs someone under thirty to explain the internet to adults.
In the recurring ranks, Jane Fonda is a treat every time ACN ownership is involved. Marcia Gay Harden joins in season two as attorney Rebecca Halliday to handle a lawsuit frame story, and is the show's best addition. Hope Davis, Constance Zimmer, B.J. Novak and Terry Crews all pass through. The bench is bigger than a three-season show has any right to assemble.
The house style is the one Sorkin has been perfecting since Sports Night. Walk-and-talks down glass corridors, overlapping dialogue, people who speak at the top of their intelligence at all times, occasional bursts of Gilbert and Sullivan because why not. Alan Poul directed a chunk of the early run and kept the tone on brand with The West Wing while pushing the lighting cooler and the backgrounds messier. Cable news floors look like trading floors, and the show shoots them that way.
The music, scored by Jeff Beal, is unashamed. Big brass, big strings, sweeping transitions into commercial breaks that the show does not actually have. When News Night gets a story right, you are meant to feel it in your chest. Sometimes this works beautifully. Sometimes it is a lot.
Critical reception was split on arrival and never really reconciled. Season one took serious heat for its gender politics and its lecture mode. Season two course-corrected in interesting ways, centring a long investigative arc around a fictional military scandal called Genoa, a false-flag sarin-gas story that ACN breaks and then has to unbreak. I think that arc is the best sustained work the show ever did. Measured, procedural, painful, and at the end of it genuinely moving. Reviewers who had written the show off came back for it.
Season three was a compressed six-episode farewell, the network having decided by mutual agreement that three rounds were enough. It covers a hostile takeover plot, a source-protection story pulled from the Snowden era, and a finale titled after the season one leitmotif The Greater Fool. Fans will tell you the finale is either earned or mawkish. Both camps are correct depending on the episode you are rewatching.
In the years since, the show has aged into a specific kind of cult object. The people who liked it have only grown more sure they were right, in a media environment that has in many ways vindicated the original diagnosis. The people who didn't have new receipts too. No show about journalism in the 2010s has been referenced more and the arguments about it are still live.
Take it as a sermon and it will annoy you. Take it as a fantasy and it becomes easier to love.
If you want the HBO media-world pairing, Succession is the show The Newsroom turned into a decade later, once the idealism had been eaten. If you want Sorkin working at his peak, The West Wing is still the benchmark. A much darker take on a failing American newsroom is available in the fifth season of The Wire, which covers similar ground with none of the optimism.
The Newsroom is Aaron Sorkin writing the newsroom he wished existed while the real one was breaking itself in public. I came to the rewatch expecting to be more annoyed than I was. It is patchy, sometimes embarrassing, often thrilling, and unlike anything else HBO produced in its run. Period-peer prestige dramas on the network were busy with different obsessions. Breaking Bad on AMC and Boardwalk Empire and Deadwood on HBO itself were chasing anti-heroes and period crime. Sorkin was the only one trying to write idealists in a present-tense profession that was actively failing. Three seasons, twenty-five episodes, one Emmy-winning lead, and an opening speech people still quote fifteen years on. Worth the argument.
Dev Patel
Neal Sampat
Marcia Gay Harden
Rebecca Halliday
Thomas Sadoski
Don Keefer
B.J. Novak
Lucas Pruit
Jeff Daniels
Will McAvoy
Jane Fonda
Leona Lansing