If Aaron Sorkin Wrote a Mystery

Jeff Cohen

Note: Aaron Sorkin didn't write ANY of what is to follow. That's just to be clear and to stay clear of Mr. Sorkin's attorneys, who are no doubt far more numerous and expensive than my own. He didn't write it. At all. This is intended as an affectionate homage.

If They Wrote Mysteries

A Series of at Least One Post

1: Aaron Sorkin

Doug Fiedler, special agent of the FBI: It's obvious now who the murderer is.

Jill Whitcomb, Doug's ex-lover and superior: Murderer?

Doug: I said, it's obvious. What?

Jill: You said murderer.

Doug: Yes, I did.

Jill: Like it's a profession. Murderer. It's not like there's a "murderer" table at the ninth-grade job fair, Doug.

Doug: Yes, thanks, I'm aware of that, Jill. Now I was saying...

Jill: I mean, what's the point in glorifying such a hideous, heinous, horrific act with a term that makes it sound like a specialty?

Doug: Hideous, heinous and horrific?

Jill: I'm a fan of alliteration. Sue me.

Doug: You're missing the point here.

Jill: Am I?

Doug: You are. Someone has been murdered. The person who did that murdering is the murderer. I'm not trying to organize a union for them, Jill.

Jill: I'm just saying, it's the kind of thing that makes the crime sound mundane, like it's something a specific kind of person does routinely. We should make murder scarier, more repulsive, so people will sit up and take notice when it happens.

Doug: Wait. Walk with me. 

They walk out of the room and through a hallway, a LOOOOONG hallway, past many office doors.

Jill: I'm only trying to make the point--

Doug: That you think people are blasé about the idea of murder because we use the term "murderer" to describe the person who does it. You think the average person walks into a room, sees a dead body on the floor and yawns because oh well, this is just the work of a murderer and not someone really frightening. What term would you prefer? Disemboweler? Life-taker? Grim reaper? What works for that brain of yours?

Jill: Is this still about the affair your father had?

Doug stops walking and stares at her. 

Doug: What?

Jill: Your father. How he was carrying on with his secretary for seventeen years and your mother never knew. Is this about that?

Doug: No, it's not about... can we just... what are you... this is about a murder!

Jill: If you say so. 

They continue walking. Doug opens a door and they enter a shooting range. Both Doug and Jill immediately put on noise-canceling headphones, pull guns from their shoulder holsters and fire, in separate booths, directly at targets at the other end of the range. The targets move forward when they are finished shooting and each pulls the paper from the arm of the machine.

Doug looks at his target. There are seven holes in the "heart" area and one in the head.

Jill walks over to him and holds out her own target. All eight shots have hit the head.

Doug shakes his head slightly and removes the headphones as he walks out, Jill behind him.

Doug: This has nothing to do with my father. It's about your trying to control every situation in your life when you know that's impossible. Other people get choices, too.

Jill: Stop trying to make everything about our relationship. We ended because the Bureau wouldn't allow it to go on.

Doug: You could have accepted the decision a little less happily, is all I'm saying. 

Jill: You think I caved in? You knew the rules.

Doug: Yeah, and you didn't mind breaking them until you were up for a promotion.

They continue to walk.

Jill: How dare you? Do you realize what you're calling me?

Doug stops walking and faces her. 

Doug: Look, it comes down to this: Every day I get up in the morning and put on a suit to come to this office and work for you because this is what I am supremely qualified to do and you happen to be my boss. And every morning I put on that suit I do it with the knowledge that I'm crazy about you and you're crazy about me but when it came time to either fight for that feeling, for what we had together, or not, you decided to follow the rules and end it all. Well, guess what: I never stopped loving you, Jill, and I don't suppose I ever will. Now I'm sorry if that messy little detail interferes with your perfectly organized day plan but there isn't a thing I can do about it. Just remember that I would have happily quit this job and worked for some other law enforcement agency to keep what we had but you never gave me the chance. I think of that every day when I put on that suit. What do you think of when you get dressed in the morning, Jill?

Without missing a beat, Jill kisses him with enormous passion. 

Jill: That.

She turns and walks out. Doug, stunned, follows. They continue walking and end up back at the office where they started.

Doug: Wait. Did that mean...

Jill: You said it was obvious.

Doug: What?

Jill: The murderer. You said it was obvious who the murderer is. 

Doug: Yeah, but just now--

Jill: So who's the murderer, Doug? Who shot that guy in the head?

Doug stands and thinks a moment.

Doug: Honestly, I can't remember.

 

 

Pitchers and catchers report in 45 days.

Comments

[Sheila York]

I saw STEVE JOBS last night. Bristling dialog, beautifully delivered. But you always wonder how so many people can be so verbally gifted. And have the same speech rhythms. (LOL at the line about the affair: For those who never caught Sports Night -- Sorkin's first TV series -- a story line about a character's dealing with his father's long-term affair was recycled later in West Wing.)

[Donald A. Coffin]

Brilliant.

[Anne Louise Bannoon]

I love the long hallway. Walking and talking - that's a Sorkin script. Now that I think about it, that may have been the influence of Tommy Schlamme, the director Sorkin worked with on both Sports Night and West Wing. Sorkin started out as a playwright - still glib as hell, but no long hallway walking shots. Anybody remember Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip?

[Jeff Cohen]

I remember Studio 60. It wasn't bad, but it proved Sorkin can't write sketch comedy, which is not terribly surprising.