新闻编辑室第一季

决定学播音记者这个专业的时候，我的很多朋友都不理解，说这么个不lucrative又不安全稳定的事情有什么可做的，在美国这边不好找工作，回国又在这边 freedom of speech 的教育下不会适应。

其实我也不是圣人，对自己的理想也不是那么确定。

但我对新闻的梦想和热情在偶尔的怀疑和畏难中居然一点点成长。

和大家分享两个记忆深刻的瞬间：1 去年帆船比赛，我和teammate 抗着机器在查尔斯河上的大桥正中间 找到很好的位置，等啊等，等他们划过来的时候开始拍正脸。

当时不觉得，回去剪片子的时候被景色给震撼了：当时正是一个阴天的下午，一切在镜头里显得那么清晰；天低而平静，河面安静而广阔，岸边加油的声音反而在比赛的学生运动员的激烈竞争中显得模糊而遥远。

渐渐地他们划远了，连背影都看不见了，但远远看到有一群鹅突然一起飞起来。

一切都是那么安静有力量，等待爆发。

2 去年秋天北美爆发的“占领运动”。

我去拍片子。

当天听说他们准备以当地美联储办公楼作为游行的开端，我和一帮记者就在那里等。

新闻现场的感觉是很爽的：停着不同电台的车，不同的现场主持人。

结果那帮游行的人选了另外一条路通向美联储的楼，大家远远看见游行队伍的前端逐渐靠近，全兵荒马乱抗起机器就往新的路线跑（因为要赶在游行队伍前拍正脸，游行的人应该是走向镜头的，而不是拍人家脚后跟和屁股）。

换句话说，我们必须抗着机器比他们先跑到美联储大门门口。

我的机器相对业余而小，所以我一扛就扛肩上，一手三脚架，一手背着三个包（我自己的包，三脚架包，机器包）。

真是喘粗气跑到那里，赶紧架上机器，调整。

时间刚刚好 - 游行的队伍正朝着我的方向走来，喊着"We - Are - the 99 percent! We - Are - the 99 percent!" 他们逆光走来，声音磅礴震天，标语漫天飞舞，警察的车和摩托大灯全开，警笛高鸣，腰间别着荷枪实弹，把美联储大门堵死，游行者用单薄的自行车对抗警察的摩托， 扶车把的手发抖。

那个瞬间，站在这喧闹世界的正中心，我从未觉得如此安静。

我从没离我的梦想这么近。

献给所有有同样梦想的你们。

美国不是最伟大的国家。

相反，它开始暴虐而无耻了。

我们为什么觉得美利坚伟大，是因为自由自由，还是自由么。

报业协会是个窝囊废。

并且你知道为什么人们讨厌自由主义者么，也因为他们是窝囊废，如果他们真有如此智慧，为什么他妈的一次都没有赢过。

教授，你怎么还能面不改色跟学生说美国如此了不起，如此的星光闪耀，美国是世界上唯一自由的国家么？

加拿大有自由，日本有自由。

英意法德，西班牙，澳大利亚，比利时也有自由。

世界上208个主权国，180个是有自由的。

对了，联谊会的这位女生，我要告诉你，有些事情是你必须知道的，以免你将来站错投票站，没有一种数据调查统计显示能够支撑‘美国是最伟大的国度’的说法的。

读写能力我们排第七，数学第二十七。

科学第二十二，人均寿命49.婴儿死亡率178，家庭收入第三，劳动力第四，出口额第四，只有三项排名我们是排榜首的，监狱人员所占人口比重，信教人数，和国防支出，并且这项支出比后面26个国家的总和还要多，其中25个是北约成员。

当然这些都不是你这个20岁的大学生的错，生活在这个史上最糟糕最悲剧的时代，所以你问我是什么造就了这个最伟大的国度，我真不懂你在他妈的放什么狗屁，你只会逛公园么。。。

我们的确辉煌过，我们会为正义而拼搏，为道德而战，因合乎道德而立良法，因违背道德而废恶法，我们为穷人而战，而非讨伐穷人，甘愿牺牲，关心邻里，勤奋踏实，而不是空口说大话，我们有过伟大的发明，有过逆天的科学创造，探索太空，治愈疾病，还有过世界上最伟大的艺术家，有过最棒的经济体制，虽为一介凡夫草民，却追求知识，不轻视知识不会让我们觉得低人一等，不会以上届选举投的票数来选择来给自己左右派定性。

我们也不会轻易畏惧，之前我们做到这些是因为我们遥遥领先，因为受人尊敬的伟大人物。

解决问题的第一步，即认清症结所在，美国再也不是世界上最伟大的国家了。。。

够了么。。。

注：感想主要集中在感情戏和角色塑造1.最开始的时候超级喜欢女主Mac, 爱得不得了，后来随着她的过度理想主义和愈演愈烈的歇斯底里喊叫开始好感度下降。

不过直到最后主要女性角色里还是最喜欢她，既能干又好看既像个战士又会撒娇的女人没有理由不喜欢。

最后一集她在Will病床前俩人打打闹闹吵嘴架的时候真心有爱，就像老夫老妻。

一直相互爱着的两个人为什么不赶紧重新在一起呢!原因一定不是Will被背叛的心结而是编剧为第二季有看头留的悬念。

2.相比女主Mac,对于男主Will我一开始没什么好感……（虽然第一集一上来喷的那一大通关于美国为什么不是世界上最伟大的国家的言论的确很帅）反而后来觉得这男人越发有意思。

从病床上弹起来拔管子喷台词的时候真有一种老夫聊发少年狂的感觉，不过这个角色的定位塑造也基本就是这么个套路——一腔热火在忧桑的过去与孤独的阴影下被外表所掩盖，然后因为周围人的“世界充满爱”式激励开始了少年漫的旅程。

纵观全剧，说我最喜欢的CP如果除了老头上司和Will这一对以外那就必然只能是Will和Mac。

强大的男人和强大的女人，又能彼此相爱是多么难得的事情，这样的两个人并肩站在一起，你会觉得这就是理所应当。

让Maggie那样的女人都去死吧。

3.接下来就要说Maggie.说实话第一集的时候我还挺喜欢她，莽撞慌乱的小姑娘，在感情中不自信，却有着一腔忠诚和执著——我喜欢这种不够完美却真实而令人感动的女孩。

但是看到后来，随着Jim的搀和进来，我发现，此人是个不折不扣的bitch。

上帝啊，为什么会存在Maggie这样的女人，我要是Lisa早就大耳刮子扇死她了。

嘴里说着我们只是朋友，却千般阻止别人的恋情，还要立牌坊标榜自己对Don才是真心。

你不要瞪着圆眼睛装纯好吗很恶心有没有？

我不得不承认，最后一集被车溅了一身水对着车发飙说出真心话正好被车上的Jim听到的梗如果换在别人身上虽然狗血却肯定很正点，可是Maggie这个bitch就是有这样的能力——下一秒就对着Don的“求同居”挂掉Jim的电话露出白痴而花痴的傻笑。

你究竟爱谁啊？！

刚刚说了爱Jim,那怎么还对着Don一脸幸福？

我只能说，Maggie这女人如果不是精分，就是打定主意吃碗里霸锅里，祸害两个男人加自己闺蜜。

Jim is a good guy, so is Don.But she is not.4.Jim是我在全剧之初最喜欢的男性角色。

从气质到性格，基本满分。

可是你怎么就能听信那个自以为是的老女人Mac的谗言真去喜欢Maggie了呢？！

她哪里有吸引力了？！

从Jim喜欢上Maggie我就没话说了，优柔寡断二逼尽显，在我心目中的地位一落千丈。

当Jim跟Lisa说从头开始我要重新追求你的时候我觉得简直是苍天开眼，以为Jim终于改邪归正弃暗投明了，结果又被Mac的一句有花堪折直须折绕进沟里去了。

Mac啊，Will真说得没错，你还要祸害多少生命才肯金盆洗手啊？

别再乱点鸳鸯谱了！

5.Don.跟Jim正好相反，第一集时是拉仇恨的角色，但在全剧结束时已然是我喜爱的男性角色前两名。

对他180度改观的契机是第四集结尾。

那一句“只有医生能宣告她死亡，新闻不能”瞬间点燃了我。

那是我看这部剧第一次为一种精神而燃。

就像Will说的，Don你他妈是个真正的新闻人。

第二次我被燃到又是Don,在飞机上向机长宣告本拉登的死讯——“我们刚刚播报了这条新闻。

”Damn it, Sloan怎么可能不爱上你呢？

业务过硬又有新闻之魂，却不像男主那么标杆化——Don你是个好男人，别在Maggie身上浪费生命了。

这里我想多说一句Don和Maggie的感情。

诚然两人分分合合，但我觉得Don其实可能没有那么爱Maggie.一开始的时候是Maggie更在乎Don,Don基本不怎么care的。

然，自Jim出现之后，Don感到了威胁和竞争，才开始绷紧神经，参与到Maggie争夺战中（Don对着Sloan那一句“Am I losing Maggie？

”真的让我心一颤……）。

也许Don只是不想输掉Maggie,就像不想输掉其他东西一样。

6.印度小哥。

我最喜欢的男性角色前两名就是他跟Don.萌点满分，热血满分，埃及暴乱那集印度小哥帅到爆表，让我心肝都快化了（尤其那一拳打到显示器上时），说大脚怪的时候又实在可爱得过分。

最值得称道的一点是人家妹子不断却绝不和上面这群乌烟瘴气的男男女女搞到一起，清清爽爽不带走一片云彩，凭这点也要点个赞。

而且比起发际线过高有提前发福危险的Don,印度小哥绝对算帅的了。

7.Sloan.是我并不喜欢的高智商低情商女性类型，在前面的若干集里对我来说都没什么存在感。

福岛核电站播报事故的那一集甚至让我觉得这姑娘死心眼得有点傻逼，光能添乱一点燃不到我。

但是最后一集她对Don的那句表白一下子扭转了她在我心中的形象——不是说我喜欢Don她也喜欢我就喜欢她了，而是她那句表白让我看到了我本以为她身上缺少的那种东西，一种情商更是一种情感。

高智商女孩加上这种东西，瞬间变成我喜欢的类型。

拒绝400万的年薪，面对着和Maggie复合的Don依然坚定地留下来，或许她才是最能代表新闻理想的人——非科班出身，放弃大把金钱和名誉的诱惑，连爱情也可以没有，但是我要做我想做的事业，我要在这一行高飞。

而那事业就是新闻，是新闻精神，是tell the truth.8.Lisa.为了将Maggie,Don,Jim之间的关系变得更混乱而出现的第四角酱油室友，但是我喜欢她，她跟Maggie比起来就是好姑娘和婊子的区别。

发现男人不爱自己，当退则退，绝不纠缠，让步给自己的好朋友并且真心祝愿她，但当看到转机时又能勇敢果断追求自己的幸福。

姑娘简直是太棒了，Jim不选择你是他的损失。

如果我是你，在饭馆对着Maggie绝不仅仅是掉头离去那么有风度，怎么也得拿杯水泼她脸上吧。

感情戏和角色的吐槽到此结束。

如果说一开始对新闻理想新闻精神这些本剧的主旨还有很多感想可抒发，看完十集下来也有点无话可说了——因为它要讲的反复就是那点东西。

做新闻，做真正的新闻，不是讨好观众和广告商，而是用真相引导人们。

一个堂吉诃德的比喻，贯穿始终。

只是这些，在中国也许不是有了堂吉诃德的勇气和决心就能那么简单做到的，我们只能尽己所能保留良知，尊重真相，拒绝扭曲与虚浮——为此哪怕付出任何代价。

若能如此，便不必多说。

最后，有一个细节还是很打动我的。

片子末尾，那个在第一集开头提问“What makes America the greatest country in the world"的女孩来晚间新闻做了实习生。

Will做出了这样的回答："You do."能够使一个国家变得伟大的，从来都不是什么虚幻的信条，制度，而是这个国家的人民，每一个个体。

It is you.只有你坚守你的理想，你的良心，为你的职业倾尽全力，为你的同胞更好而努力，你才能真正使你的国家变得伟大。

不仅是新闻工作者，每个行业都一样。

“I’m affable!” Will McAvoy yells in the pilot of “The Newsroom,” Aaron Sorkin’s new HBO series. McAvoy (played by Jeff Daniels) is an irascible anchor whose brand is likability, and it’s a good line, delivered well. It is also a rare moment of self-mockery—and one of the last sequences I was on board for in the series. In “The Newsroom,” clever people take turns admiring one another. They sing arias of facts. They aim to remake television news: “This is a new show, and there are new rules,” a maverick executive producer announces, several times, in several ways. Their outrage is so inflamed that it amounts to a form of moral eczema—only it makes the viewer itch.This is not to say that “The Newsroom” doesn’t score points now and then, if you share its politics. It starts effectively enough, with an homage to “Network” ’s galvanizing “I’m mad as hell” rant, as McAvoy, a blandly uncontroversial cable big shot whom everyone tauntingly calls Leno, is trapped on a journalism-school panel. When the moderator needles him into answering a question about why America is the greatest country on earth, he goes volcanic, ticking off the ways in which America is no such thing, then closing with a statement of hope, about the way things used to be. This speech goes viral, and his boss (Sam Waterston) and his producer, MacKenzie McHale (Emily Mortimer), who’s also his ex-girlfriend, encourage him to create a purer news program, purged of any obsession with ratings and buzz.Much of McAvoy’s diatribe is bona-fide baloney—false nostalgia for an America that never existed—but it is exciting to watch. And if you enjoyed “The West Wing,” Sorkin’s helpful counterprogramming to the Bush Administration, your ears will prick up. The pilot of “The Newsroom” is full of yelling and self-righteousness, but it’s got energy, just like “The West Wing,” Sorkin’s “Sports Night,” and his hit movie “The Social Network.” The second episode is more obviously stuffed with piety and syrup, although there’s one amusing segment, when McAvoy mocks some right-wing idiots. After that, “The Newsroom” gets so bad so quickly that I found my jaw dropping. The third episode is lousy (and devolves into lectures that are chopped into montages). The fourth episode is the worst. There are six to go.Sorkin is often presented as one of the auteurs of modern television, an innovator and an original voice. But he’s more logically placed in a school of showrunners who favor patterspeak, point-counterpoint, and dialogue-driven tributes to the era of screwball romance. Some of this banter is intelligent; just as often, however, it’s artificial intelligence, predicated on the notion that more words equals smarter. Besides Sorkin, these creators include Shonda Rhimes (whose Washington melodrama, “Scandal,” employs cast members from “The West Wing”); Amy Sherman-Palladino, of “The Gilmore Girls” (and the appealing new “Bunheads”); and David E. Kelley, who created “Ally McBeal” and “Boston Legal.” Sorkin is supposed to be on a different level from his peers: longer words, worldlier topics. And many viewers clearly buy into this idea: years after Sorkin’s terrible, fascinating “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” was cancelled, I still occasionally run into someone who insists that Americans were just too stupid to get it.As Dan Rather might put it, that dog won’t hunt. Sorkin’s shows are the type that people who never watch TV are always claiming are better than anything else on TV. The shows’ air of defiant intellectual superiority is rarely backed up by what’s inside—all those Wagnerian rants, fingers poked in chests, palms slammed on desks, and so on. In fact, “The Newsroom” treats the audience as though we were extremely stupid. Characters describe events we’ve just witnessed. When a cast member gets a shtick (like an obsession with Bigfoot), he delivers it over and over. In episode four, there’s a flashback to episode three. In a recent interview, Sorkin spoke patronizingly of cop shows, but his Socratic flirtations are frequently just as formulaic, right down to the magical “Ask twice!” technique.There’s no denying that Sorkin’s shows can be addictive: I couldn’t stop watching “Studio 60,” which was about the making of a “Saturday Night Live”-style sketch show, no matter how hard I tried. That thing was alive! It was lit up with payback, as well as with portraits of Sorkin’s exes so glowing that they were radioactive. The show’s deliriously preening heroes were so memorable that they inspired a set of fictional Twitter feeds, in which the characters live on, making remarks like “Deciding if the satire I’m about to write should be scathing or whip-smart.”“The Newsroom” sounded more promising, journalism being a natural habitat for blowhards. But so far the series lacks the squirmy vigor of “Studio 60,” particularly since Sorkin saps the drama with an odd structural choice. Rather than invent fictional crises, he’s set the show in “the recent past,” so that the plot is literally old news: the BP oil spill, the Tea Party, the Arizona immigration law. That sounds like an innovative concept, but it turns the characters into back-seat drivers, telling us how the news should have been delivered. (Instead of “Broadcast News,” it’s like a sanctimonious “Zelig.”) Naturally, McAvoy slices through crises by “speaking truth to stupid,” in McHale’s words. But he also seizes credit for “breaking stories”—like the political shenanigans of the Koch brothers—that were broken by actual journalists, all of them working in print or online. In the fourth episode, the show injects a real-life tragedy into the mix, pouring a pop ballad over the montage, just the way “E.R.” used to do whenever a busload of massacred toddlers came crashing through the door.There are plenty of terrific actors on this show, but they can’t do much with roles that amount to familiar Sorkinian archetypes. There is the Great Man, who is theoretically flawed, but really a primal truth-teller whom everyone should follow (or date). There are brilliant, accomplished women who are also irrational, high-strung lunatics—the dames and muses who pop their eyes and throw jealous fits when not urging the Great Man on. There are attractively suited young men, from cynical sharpies to idealistic sharpies, who glare and bond and say things like “This right here is always the swan song of the obsolete when they’re staring the future paradigm in the face.”The show features three people of color. The most prominent is an Indian staffer named Neal Sampat, played by Dev Patel. The dialogue makes fun of McAvoy for calling him Punjab and referring to him as “the Indian stereotype of an I.T. guy,” but the show treats Neal with precisely that type of condescension. Neal is a WikiLeaks fan who writes the show’s blog, but he’s a cheerful cipher, a nerd who speaks nerd talk. There are also two African-American producers, who are introduced to the audience when McAvoy—who is publicly memorizing the names of his staff, having been accused of not remembering them—says, “Gary. Kendra. Gary’s a smart black guy who is not afraid to criticize Obama. Kendra got double 800s on her S.A.T.s, makes Gary crazy. I studied.”Nobody reacts, and I suspect we’re supposed to find his behavior charmingly blunt or un-P.C. But, again, neither Gary nor Kendra is at all developed, or given any role in the show’s wince-worthy set of love triangles. It gave me flashbacks to one of the worst plots on “Studio 60,” in which the comic played by D. L. Hughley—the “smart black guy” who was always reading the newspaper—went to a comedy club to anoint the one true young black comic among the hacks and mediocrities. Sorkin’s shows overflow with liberal verities about diversity, but they reproduce a universe in which the Great Man is the natural object of worship, as martyred by gossips as any Philip Roth protagonist.Despite a few bad bets, HBO is on a truly interesting run right now. It has built a solid Sunday lineup, with “Game of Thrones,” the excellent “Girls,” and “Veep,” a political sitcom that just ended its funny, prickly, but also rather dead-hearted début season. Julia Louis-Dreyfus, who plays the title role, is a skilled comedienne, and the cast knows how to sling the writer Armando Iannucci’s nasty zingers. And yet the series was so cynical that it somehow felt naïve. When Louis-Dreyfus’s character got pregnant, she promptly miscarried, and then had no meaningful reaction to either condition. This was disappointing, but I still have hope for the second season, when many sitcoms find their feet, as did NBC’s “Parks and Recreation,” the one excellent political series on TV.“The Newsroom” is the inverse of “Veep”: it’s so naïve it’s cynical. Sorkin’s fantasy is of a cabal of proud, disdainful brainiacs, a “media élite” who swallow accusations of arrogance and shoot them back as lava. But if the storytelling were more confident, it could take a breath and deliver drama, not just talking points. Instead, the deck stays stacked. Whenever McAvoy deliversf a speech or slices up a right-winger, the ensemble beams at him, their eyes glowing as if they were cultists. The series turns Will McAvoy into the equivalent of the character Karen Cartwright, on “Smash,” the performer who the show keeps insisting is God’s gift to Broadway. Can you blame me for rooting for McAvoy’s enemies, all those flyover morons, venal bean-counters, sorority girls, and gun-toting bimbos? Like a political party, a TV show is nothing without a loyal opposition. 来源：http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/television/2012/06/25/120625crte_television_nussbaum?currentPage=all

སྤྱིར་གསར་འགོད་པ་ཞིག་ཡིན་རྩ་བ་ནས་ཟེར་ཕོད་མ་མྱོང་། ཁྱད་པར་དུ་བརྙན་འཕྲིན་ཟློས་གར་འདིར་བལྟས་རྗེས། འདི་འདྲ་ཞིག་རིག་རྒྱུ་ཡོད་པ་དེ་ཡང་དྲང་མོ་བཤད་ན་སེམས་གསོ་བའི་སྨན་ཞིག་རེད། མི་དེ་ཚོས་བདེན་པ་ཞིག་གི་ཆེད་དུ་གོང་གི་དབང་ལ་མགོ་མ་སྒུར། རྒྱུ་ཡིས་ཡ་ཆུང་སེམས་དེ་སྨྱོ་མ་བཅུག། ངོ་མ་ཡིད་སྨོན་ཤོར་བ་ཞིག་རེད། ཝེར་གྱིས་ངའི་ལས་མི་རྣམས་ལ་གནོད་པ་ཞིག་སྐྱེལ་སོང་ན་ངས་མི་བཞག་ཤག་ཤག་ཡིན་ཟེར་བ་དང་། གསར་འགོད་པ་ཞིག་སྐྱོབ་ཆེད་རང་གིས་ལྐོག་ནས་ཨ་སྒོར་ས་ཡ་གཉིས་བསྐུར་བ་སོགས་ཀྱིས་ངོ་མ་སེམས་པ་རབ་ཏུ་སྒུལ་སོང་། གསར་འགྱུར་ཡག་པོ་ཞིག་ཡོང་ཆེད་ངོ་དམར་པོ་བྱས་ནས་རྩོད་པ་རབ་དང་རིམ་པ་ཐུག་ཀྱང་། རེད་དེ་ཕན་ཚུན་གྱིས་མཐུན་སྒྲིལ་ནུས་པ་དེ་ནི་ངོ་མ་ཧ་ལས་དགོས་པ་ཞིག་རེད། འདི་ནི་དབང་ཆ་བཞི་པ་ཟེར་བ་དེ་ངོ་མ་རེད། གཞུང་གི་ལས་སྟངས་ཡོད་ཚད་ལ་འདི་ལྟ་བུས་ལྟ་སྐུལ་བྱེད་མཁན་ཡོད་པ་ནི་ཅི་འདྲས་ཉམས་དགའ་བ་ཞིག་རེད་ཨང་། ང་ཚོ་ལ་མཚོན་ན་ཡག་རབས་བཟང་རབས་མ་གཏོགས་ངན་པ་སྣེ་གཅིག་ཀྱང་བཤད་སྤོབས་ཤིག་ག་ན་ཡོད།

Good evening, I'm Will McAvoy. This is "News Night". And that was a clip of Richard Clarke, former counterterrorism chief to President George W. Bush, testifying before Congress on March 24, 2004.American liked that moment.I liked that moment.Adults should hold themselves accountable for failure. And so tonight I'm beginning this newscast by joining Mr. Clarke in apologizing to the American people for our failure. The failure of this program during the time I've been in charge of it to successfully inform and educate the American electorate.Let me be clear that I don't apologize on behalf of all broadcast journalists, nor do all broadcast journalists owe an apology. I speak for myself. I was an accomplice to a slow and repeated and unacknowledged and un-amended train wreck of failures that has brought us to now. I'm leader in an industry that miscalled election results, hyped up terror scares, ginned up controversy, and failed to report on tectonic shift in our country. From the collapse of the financial system to the truths about how strong we are to the dangers we actually face. I'm a leader in an industry that misdirected your attention with dexterity of Harry Houdini while sending hundreds of thousands of our bravest young men and women off to war without due diligence.The reason we failed isn't a mystery. We took a dive for the ratings. In the infancy of mass communications, the Columbus and Magellan of broadcast journalism, William Paley and David Sarnoff, went down to Washington to cut a deal with Congress. Congress would allow the fledgling networks free use of taxpayer-owned airwaves in exchange for on public service. That public service would be on hour of air time set aside every night for informational broadcasting, or what we now call the evening news. Congress, unable to anticipate the enormous capacity television would have to deliver consumers to advertisers, failed to include in its deal the one requirement that would have changed our national discourse immeasurably for the better. Congress forgot to add that under no circumstances would there be paid advertising during informational broadcasting. The forgot to say that taxpayers will give you the airwaves for free and for 23 hours a day you should make a profit, but for one hour a night you work for us.And now those network newscasts, anchored though history by honest-to-God newsmen with names like Murrow and Reasoner and Huntley and Brinkley and Buckley and Gronkite and Rather and Russert...now they have to compete with the likes of me. A cable anchor who's in the exact same business as the producers of "Jersey Shore". And that business was good to us, but "News Night" is quitting that business right now. It might come as a surprise to you that some of history's greatest American journalists are working right now, exceptional minds with years of experience and an unshakable devotion to reporting the news. But these voices are a small minority now and they don't stand a chance against the circus when the circus comes to town. They're overmatched. I'm quitting the circus and switching teams. I'm going with the guys who are getting creamed. I'm moved that they still think they can win and I hope they can teach me a thing or two. From this moment on, we'll be deciding what goes on our air and how it's presented to you based on the simple truth that nothing is more important to a democracy than a well-informed electorate. We'll endeavor to put information in a broadcast context because we know that very little news is born at the moment it comes across our wire. We'll be the champion of facts and the moral enemy of innuendo, speculation, hyperbole and nonsense. We're not waiter in a restaurant serving you the stories you asked for just the way you like them prepared. Nor are we computers dispensing context of humanity. I'll make no effort to subdue my personal opinions. I'll make every effort to expose you to informed opinions that are different from my own.You may ask who are we to make these decisions. We are Mackenzie McHale and myself. Miss McHale is our executive producer. She marshals the recourses of over 100 reporters, producers, analysts, technicians, and her credentials are readily available. I'm "News Night" 's managing editor and make the final decision on every seen and heard on this program. Who are we make these decisions? We're the Media Elite. 好久没有听写这么长的段落了，看大叔飙台词有一种难以描述的痛快淋漓，心潮澎湃的赶脚The West Wing之后好像很久没看过这么精彩的思路PK剧了哎，太容易被大叔的个人魅力征服了……

【What makes America the greatest country in the world?】这样的问题在2012年也许还算合理，8年后的今天再看不免充满讽刺。

Now it can't2020是剧荒的一年，于是复习旧剧成为了一种新的乐趣。

除了《欲望都市》以外，《The Newsroom（新闻编辑室）》成为了我复习次数最多的宝藏美剧。

时下的新闻内容每天都可以令人瞠目结舌，让人不禁幻想如果让Will McAvoy播报是否会更加振聋发聩。

【What makes America the greatest country in the world?】是剧中明星主播Will McAvoy在参加大学论坛时接收到的一个学生问题，彼时沉浸在受欢迎度与高收视率中的他乐于做插科打诨的李诞，而观众席中一个熟悉的身影高举【IT’S NOT】【BUT IT CAN BE】的提示牌即将改变他的职业生涯。

10秒的停顿后，Will开始用三分钟高语速、长语句与爆炸信息量将提问者炮轰得体无完肤，猛然提升的节奏与高密度台词无时不刻不在尖叫本片编剧的Aaron Sorkin属性，——一场【理想主义】与【精英主义】的大戏随即展开。

出生于富裕犹太家庭的Aaron Sorkin在《West Wing（白宫风云）》展露自己高超的政治剧编剧能力后，凭《点球成金》《社交网络》《史蒂夫·乔布斯》等片继续收割各种金牌编剧奖项。

基本上如果一个片子时常出现常春藤毕业每分钟说话超过200字热爱引用数据的白左，那它大概率和Aaron Sorkin有些关系。

看了《白宫风云》以后，我明显感觉到《新闻编辑室》再次让Sorkin重回初心，——【Gather the rosebuds while ye may】的引用、前任男女朋友工作场合重逢的桥段，甚至对空姐的吐槽，当这些早在1999年的《白宫风云》中便出现过的情节变换着形式被再次使用在《新》里时，Sorkin在作品中留下的个人印记也不言而喻。

《白宫风云》

《新闻编辑室》Sorkin老师真的很爱Robert Herrick的这首诗说到夹带私货，Sorkin和《欲望都市》Charlotte扮演者Kristin Davis约会期间，他让《新》中角色戏仿Carrie被公交车的水花溅到的经典桥段，并借角色之口说出《欲》中四个主角最喜欢Charlotte的可爱台词。

政治属性上更不用说，身为坚定的民主党人，Sorkin在《白》中直接策划一届民主党政府，在《新》里则借着Will共和党身份屡屡给予共和党变向抨击。

沉迷药物的Sorkin在《白》里塑造了酗酒的白宫幕僚长，之后在《新》里报道本·拉登被击毙时也同样安排了Will的嗑药情节。

虽然《新》与《白》都是Sorkin的心灵镜像，《新闻编辑室》并非是对《白宫风云》的经典重现，后者可以看作是美国政体运行知识一览表，而前者更像一个完整的英雄寓言。

曾经的《West Wing》完成了让对政治漠不关心的一代美帝人民愿意关注政治的任务，而《The Newsroom》虽同样直指精英阶层群像，却更进一步将【教化】的目标抛给纸片人，企图用剧中人一次次的大战风车让浸淫在社交媒体中的新生代们重温传统新闻人的英雄梦想。

剧中人的目标与创作者的现实目标高度重合，作者性与主观度陡然上升。

但为了实现创作者的现实目标，剧中的故事性必须更强、人物形象必须更丰富，才能诱导着每一个观众接受创作者的变向说教。

本人MacKenzie头号粉丝与恶商业、泛娱乐化与世俗化为敌的故事即使在2012年也依然充满风险，何况大段激烈台词可能只差一公分就要吼出“你们这帮愚民”的高傲言论了。

如何让观众愿意加入主角们的堂·吉诃德之队呢？

主角的塑造至关重要，Sorkin确实也靠剧本的力量控制了这点。

首先主角们足够高端，——作为韭菜，我们往往通过与所谓高端人士的共情来回避自己是韭菜的事实，这一点Sorkin通过人物们的优越背景与高智商谈吐达成；其次他们在这场打怪游戏中有舍有得——革命的风险是巨大的，众人不仅在玩all or nothing的游戏也时常质疑自己的正当性，外界的危险不够，人物必须有持续不断的内心挣扎，男主Will一直在fucked up的边缘反复横跳；最后角色需要有各自的可爱之处——女主Mackenzie演员Emily Mortimer的英伦口音与Don Sloan CP的强烈魅力加上一众可爱配角弥补了Maggie狗血感情线的不足。

这Line绝了在观众自愿加入堂·吉诃德之队之后，编剧的任务便是带领观众一起实现他所承诺的“大战风车”之旅。

此时，Sorkin屡试不爽的快节奏、多线叙事与精妙台词就开始发挥作用。

仔细看就可以发现，剧情的快节奏其实大都由大面积对话正反打完成，固定场景下缓慢移动的镜头增加了戏剧紧张感，而成功的多线叙事则是多事件的互相穿插、呼应，并层层递进让剧情走向高潮。

这里拿第一季第六集《Bullies》为例，这集形式有些特别，却将文本故事的控制展现得淋漓尽致。

以下是我的拉片笔记（因为并非是电影拉片，不抠细镜头仅以大概节拍为单位）。

《Bullies》中嵌套了四个新闻事件，巧妙地以倒叙的形式把在戏剧时空中发生最早的事件放在最后揭晓制造高潮，让心理医生充当导师引导主人公Will从开战外界bullies到面对受bully的创伤再到正视自己成为bully的危险，完成了主人公一次成功的自我挣扎。

这样环环相套的故事线离不开编剧的设计思考与控制，而Sorkin也是众所周知的片场暴君：他执着于自己的文本设计，给予演员很少的临场发挥空间，——编剧力量甚至大过导演适合倚重情节与台词的电视剧，在电影中就没那么奏效，或许这就是Sorkin自己执导电影没有那么成功的原因。

《新》的主要剪辑师之一Anne McCabe表示：“这部电视剧不存在即兴表演。

”工整巧妙、丝丝入扣的剧本设定让《新闻编辑室》承载得起【教化】三观的大旗，在Sorkin的控制下，所有剧情都可以被集中起来为以一己之力带来真理的力量摇旗呐喊。

三年前第二次重看《The Newsroom》以后，我第一次读完了《堂·吉诃德》这本书。

与其说想成为螳臂当车的堂·吉诃德，我可能更适合成为无厘头的桑丘。

【教化】的目的是否正确势必没有答案，不过索金的拿手好戏一定是好莱坞奉为圭臬的模范。

2020年，魔幻荒诞不断上演，好内容仍是稀缺。

新常态下，或许为了成为一名奏效的骑士，你必须先成为一名暴君。

P.S. 每次看完的直观感受——办公室恋情有利于社畜生活。

【我还有机会吗？

【没有机会我也能创造机会。

It’s not the greatest country in the world, professor. You know why people don’t like liberals? Because they lose. If liberals are so fucking smart, how come they lose so goddamn always? And with a straight face you’re gonna tell students that America is so star-spangled awesome that we’re the only ones in the world who have freedom? Canada has freedom. Japan has freedom. The UK , France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Australia. Belgium has freedom! 207 sovereign states in the world in the world, like 180 of them have freedom. And one of them is there is absolutely no evidence to support the statement that we’re the greatest country in the world. We’re 7th in literacy, 27th in math, 22nd in science, 49th in life expectancy, 178th in infant mortality, 3rd in median household income, number four in labor force, and number four in exports. We lead the world in only three categories: Number of incarcerated citizens per capita, number of adults who believe angels are real, and defense spending where we spend more the next 26 countries combined, 25 of whom are allies. But you nonetheless are without a doubt a member of the worst period generation period ever period.We sure used to be. We stood up for what was right. We fought for moral reasons. We passed laws, struck down laws for moral reasons. We waged wars on poverty, not poor people. We sacrificed. We cared about our neighbors. We put our money where our mouths were and we never beat our chest. We built great big things, made ungodly technological advances, explored the universe, cured diseases, and we cultivated the world’s greatest artists and the world’s greatest economy. We reached for the stars, acted like men. We aspired to intelligence. We didn’t belittle it. It didn’t make us fell inferior. We didn’t identify ourselves by who we voted for in the last election. We didn’t scare so easy. By great men, men who were revered. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one. That America is the only country on the planet that, since its birth, has said over and over and over that we can do better. It’s part of our DNA. People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people…5%. And 5% more of anything is what makes the difference in this country. So we can do better. Yeah, that whole speech did nothing for me.A nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what’s important. The death of bitchiness, the death of gossip and voyeurism. Speaking truth to stupid. No demographic sweet spot. A place where we all come together. We are coming to a tipping point. Is government an instrument of good or is it every man for himself? Is there something bigger we want to reach for or is self-interest our basic resting pulse? You and I have a chance to be among the few people who can frame that debate.

新闻背后——事情并非如此前ABC Newsline主播Dave Marash对艾伦•索尔金《新闻编辑室》的评论原文地址http://www.cjr.org/behind_the_news/emmy_award-winning_tv_reporter.phpHBO新推出的、由艾伦•索尔金编剧的《新闻编辑室》对于真理、正义和假定的美国方式都过于明确。

其中，新闻仅仅是一个借口。

我想在这些问题上的武断对于观众们来说没什么好处。

像绝大部分电视剧一样，它的情节起伏取决于观众们是否关心剧中人物的命运，但这并不是我被要求写下的评论内容。

我要写的是《新闻编辑室》中对于新闻、新闻编辑室和新闻行业的呈现。

这方面，恐怕没有什么好话。

《新闻编辑室》里的新闻编辑室缺少的恰恰是新闻，正如你所知，那些代表我们这个时代生活的日常事件。

在其中一集里，news的N被大写，以示一个“真实”发生的大新闻，但实际上，这仅仅是一个广告推销。

《新闻编辑室》并不是关于新闻本身，而是关于它如何被呈现。

这一关注点允许索尔金通过其笔下的主播威尔•麦卡沃伊对新闻的意义进行说教，而不是新闻。

一个例子就是片中的执行制片人颇引人注目的表态——“告诉那些愚蠢的人们真相”。

注意，那些面对“愚蠢的人们”自以为是的人。

真实的新闻编辑室里充满着新闻，充满着引导整个节目的故事们。

把它们呈现在节目中，但不是掺杂着任何与编辑室里的人相关的利益的节目里。

这是一个新闻编辑室力量的来源。

但是这些故事与力量在片中是缺席的。

只有大新闻才会得到片中新闻编辑室的注意，其他都是“可鄙的人类的利益”。

那些愚蠢的人类，谁在乎他们的新闻？

同时缺失的还有所有发生在编辑室以外的工作，但这才是新闻报道，新闻报道几乎不可能包括一个世界级的大事件发生时，来自你姐姐和大学室友——恰好是内部信源的电话。

报道意味着走出去，并无预先计划的睁开双眼去看正在发生什么，哪里有与生活息息相关的故事。

《新闻编辑室》里没人这么做。

讽刺的是，这恰恰是《新闻编辑室》点出的一个事实，现在的电视新闻几乎全部是在办公室内完成的。

“外面的故事”仅仅用于填补空白，它们被尽可能迅速且廉价的收集完成。

而在剧中，这个节目的执行制作人和负责人都被塑造成前记者（分别报道过阿富汗战争和越战），对这一点就只能哈哈哈了，新闻行业的决策者并没有反映出来自一线的小声嘀咕的价值。

如今的新闻行业，和其他很多行业一样，正在贬低其生产原料的价值。

改革需要依靠的远不止《新闻编辑室》里提到的——从业者的意愿。

那是童话故事，对于《新闻编辑室》里的“大事件”，大概就跟《杰克与魔豆》的真实程度差不多。

英语记者有一个行话。

“break”不仅是打碎，也可以是报道（break a news, break the story），且更突出一个新闻或者丑闻突然被报道给大众（Oxford American English）。

所以一个新闻被报道出来，也可以说，（a news is ）broken。

这里作者用了一个新闻学双关，用broken的另一层含义（i.e. 破碎的）来作为标题，也体现了她对这部描写新闻工作者的剧的不满。

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2012/06/25/broken-newsBy Emily Nussbaum“我很讨人喜欢！

“Will McAvoy在Aaron Sorkin在HBO上的新剧“新闻编辑室”的试播集上吼到。

McAvoy（由Jeff Daniels扮演）是一个易怒的、依赖观众缘的新闻主播；因此，这是一句好台词。

这也是剧中仅有的一处自我嘲讽--和我上次最后看到的地方。

在“新闻编辑室”，聪明人轮流互相崇拜。

他们歌颂事实。

他们企图重新制作电视新闻。

正如他们的天才制作人多次以不同方式宣布“这是一个新节目，所以我们有新规矩”。

他们积攒的愤怒变成一种道德上的湿疹，让自己的观众痒痒地不舒服。

“I’m affable!” Will McAvoy yells in the pilot of “The Newsroom,” Aaron Sorkin’s new HBO series. McAvoy (played by Jeff Daniels) is an irascible anchor whose brand is likability, and it’s a good line, delivered well. It is also a rare moment of self-mockery—and one of the last sequences I was on board for in the series. In “The Newsroom,” clever people take turns admiring one another. They sing arias of facts. They aim to remake television news: “This is a new show, and there are new rules,” a maverick executive producer announces, several times, in several ways. Their outrage is so inflamed that it amounts to a form of moral eczema—only it makes the viewer itch.我倒不是说“新闻编辑室”一无是处，尤其如果你对这部剧的政治观点比较认同。

剧开始没黑料、广受好评的大主播McAvoy也有一段很有效率的，像是在“社交网站”中的 "I'm mad as hell"怒吼。

This is not to say that “The Newsroom” doesn’t score points now and then, if you share its politics. It starts effectively enough, with an homage to “Network” ’s galvanizing “I’m mad as hell” rant, as McAvoy, a blandly uncontroversial cable big shot whom everyone tauntingly calls Leno, is trapped on a journalism-school panel. When the moderator needles him into answering a question about why America is the greatest country on earth, he goes volcanic, ticking off the ways in which America is no such thing, then closing with a statement of hope, about the way things used to be. This speech goes viral, and his boss (Sam Waterston) and his producer, MacKenzie McHale (Emily Mortimer), who’s also his ex-girlfriend, encourage him to create a purer news program, purged of any obsession with ratings and buzz.Much of McAvoy’s diatribe is bona-fide baloney—false nostalgia for an America that never existed—but it is exciting to watch. And if you enjoyed “The West Wing,” Sorkin’s helpful counterprogramming to the Bush Administration, your ears will prick up. The pilot of “The Newsroom” is full of yelling and self-righteousness, but it’s got energy, just like “The West Wing,” Sorkin’s “Sports Night,” and his hit movie “The Social Network.” The second episode is more obviously stuffed with piety and syrup, although there’s one amusing segment, when McAvoy mocks some right-wing idiots. After that, “The Newsroom” gets so bad so quickly that I found my jaw dropping. The third episode is lousy (and devolves into lectures that are chopped into montages). The fourth episode is the worst. There are six to go.Sorkin is often presented as one of the auteurs of modern television, an innovator and an original voice. But he’s more logically placed in a school of showrunners who favor patterspeak, point-counterpoint, and dialogue-driven tributes to the era of screwball romance. Some of this banter is intelligent; just as often, however, it’s artificial intelligence, predicated on the notion that more words equals smarter. Besides Sorkin, these creators include Shonda Rhimes (whose Washington melodrama, “Scandal,” employs cast members from “The West Wing”); Amy Sherman-Palladino, of “The Gilmore Girls” (and the appealing new “Bunheads”); and David E. Kelley, who created “Ally McBeal” and “Boston Legal.” Sorkin is supposed to be on a different level from his peers: longer words, worldlier topics. And many viewers clearly buy into this idea: years after Sorkin’s terrible, fascinating “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” was cancelled, I still occasionally run into someone who insists that Americans were just too stupid to get it.As Dan Rather might put it, that dog won’t hunt. Sorkin’s shows are the type that people who never watch TV are always claiming are better than anything else on TV. The shows’ air of defiant intellectual superiority is rarely backed up by what’s inside—all those Wagnerian rants, fingers poked in chests, palms slammed on desks, and so on. In fact, “The Newsroom” treats the audience as though we were extremely stupid. Characters describe events we’ve just witnessed. When a cast member gets a shtick (like an obsession with Bigfoot), he delivers it over and over. In episode four, there’s a flashback to episode three. In a recent interview, Sorkin spoke patronizingly of cop shows, but his Socratic flirtations are frequently just as formulaic, right down to the magical “Ask twice!” technique.There’s no denying that Sorkin’s shows can be addictive: I couldn’t stop watching “Studio 60,” which was about the making of a “Saturday Night Live”-style sketch show, no matter how hard I tried. That thing was alive! It was lit up with payback, as well as with portraits of Sorkin’s exes so glowing that they were radioactive. The show’s deliriously preening heroes were so memorable that they inspired a set of fictional Twitter feeds, in which the characters live on, making remarks like “Deciding if the satire I’m about to write should be scathing or whip-smart.”“The Newsroom” sounded more promising, journalism being a natural habitat for blowhards. But so far the series lacks the squirmy vigor of “Studio 60,” particularly since Sorkin saps the drama with an odd structural choice. Rather than invent fictional crises, he’s set the show in “the recent past,” so that the plot is literally old news: the BP oil spill, the Tea Party, the Arizona immigration law. That sounds like an innovative concept, but it turns the characters into back-seat drivers, telling us how the news should have been delivered. (Instead of “Broadcast News,” it’s like a sanctimonious “Zelig.”) Naturally, McAvoy slices through crises by “speaking truth to stupid,” in McHale’s words. But he also seizes credit for “breaking stories”—like the political shenanigans of the Koch brothers—that were broken by actual journalists, all of them working in print or online. In the fourth episode, the show injects a real-life tragedy into the mix, pouring a pop ballad over the montage, just the way “E.R.” used to do whenever a busload of massacred toddlers came crashing through the door.There are plenty of terrific actors on this show, but they can’t do much with roles that amount to familiar Sorkinian archetypes. There is the Great Man, who is theoretically flawed, but really a primal truth-teller whom everyone should follow (or date). There are brilliant, accomplished women who are also irrational, high-strung lunatics—the dames and muses who pop their eyes and throw jealous fits when not urging the Great Man on. There are attractively suited young men, from cynical sharpies to idealistic sharpies, who glare and bond and say things like “This right here is always the swan song of the obsolete when they’re staring the future paradigm in the face.”The show features three people of color. The most prominent is an Indian staffer named Neal Sampat, played by Dev Patel. The dialogue makes fun of McAvoy for calling him Punjab and referring to him as “the Indian stereotype of an I.T. guy,” but the show treats Neal with precisely that type of condescension. Neal is a WikiLeaks fan who writes the show’s blog, but he’s a cheerful cipher, a nerd who speaks nerd talk. There are also two African-American producers, who are introduced to the audience when McAvoy—who is publicly memorizing the names of his staff, having been accused of not remembering them—says, “Gary. Kendra. Gary’s a smart black guy who is not afraid to criticize Obama. Kendra got double 800s on her S.A.T.s, makes Gary crazy. I studied.”Nobody reacts, and I suspect we’re supposed to find his behavior charmingly blunt or un-P.C. But, again, neither Gary nor Kendra is at all developed, or given any role in the show’s wince-worthy set of love triangles. It gave me flashbacks to one of the worst plots on “Studio 60,” in which the comic played by D. L. Hughley—the “smart black guy” who was always reading the newspaper—went to a comedy club to anoint the one true young black comic among the hacks and mediocrities. Sorkin’s shows overflow with liberal verities about diversity, but they reproduce a universe in which the Great Man is the natural object of worship, as martyred by gossips as any Philip Roth protagonist.Despite a few bad bets, HBO is on a truly interesting run right now. It has built a solid Sunday lineup, with “Game of Thrones,” the excellent “Girls,” and “Veep,” a political sitcom that just ended its funny, prickly, but also rather dead-hearted début season. Julia Louis-Dreyfus, who plays the title role, is a skilled comedienne, and the cast knows how to sling the writer Armando Iannucci’s nasty zingers. And yet the series was so cynical that it somehow felt naïve. When Louis-Dreyfus’s character got pregnant, she promptly miscarried, and then had no meaningful reaction to either condition. This was disappointing, but I still have hope for the second season, when many sitcoms find their feet, as did NBC’s “Parks and Recreation,” the one excellent political series on TV.“The Newsroom” is the inverse of “Veep”: it’s so naïve it’s cynical. Sorkin’s fantasy is of a cabal of proud, disdainful brainiacs, a “media élite” who swallow accusations of arrogance and shoot them back as lava. But if the storytelling were more confident, it could take a breath and deliver drama, not just talking points. Instead, the deck stays stacked. Whenever McAvoy delivers a speech or slices up a right-winger, the ensemble beams at him, their eyes glowing as if they were cultists. The series turns Will McAvoy into the equivalent of the character Karen Cartwright, on “Smash,” the performer who the show keeps insisting is God’s gift to Broadway. Can you blame me for rooting for McAvoy’s enemies, all those flyover morons, venal bean-counters, sorority girls, and gun-toting bimbos? Like a political party, a TV show is nothing without a loyal opposition. ♦