The West Wing’s "Noël" Episode Perfectly Captures the Christmas Blues

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Bradley Whitford as Josh Lyman standing in front of a Christmas tree in The West Wing Image by Jefferson Chacon

Whether it was inventing the "walk-and-talk" camera technique or just remaining one of the best television shows to grace the small screen, The West Wing reveled in doing the unexpected. Case in point, creator and head writer Aaron Sorkin used the yearly holiday episodes common to TV at the time as just a tinsel-studded backdrop against which to examine sociological issues even more piercingly than was the show's custom. Although the White House sets were decorated to the nines with the requisite bright lights and ornamented trees, Sorkin's storylines in these episodes acknowledged the truth that America's capitalist structure is all too happy to ignore: that the winter holidays are far from a unanimously happy time. For as many people who draw joy from the affectations and traditions of Christmas, there are as many or more wounded by them for countless reasons. Season 2, Episode 10, "Noël," excels with this concept through a searingly accurate, deeply intimate portrayal of post-traumatic stress disorder, and in so doing not only destigmatizes PTSD but validates the complexity of December melancholy.

What Is 'The West Wing' Episode "Noël" About?

The West Wing cast in front of a red, white and blue curtain Image via NBC

Unlike most The West Wing episodes that balance multiple side plots across the expansive cast, "Noël" focuses almost entirely on Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford), the Deputy White House Chief of Staff and one of the most visible main characters. During the Season 1 cliffhanger and Season 2 opener, Josh and the rest of President Jed Bartlet's (Martin Sheen) immediate staff survived an attempt on their lives. Josh was among the gravely injured, and "Noël" opens on that calendar year's Christmas Eve as he meets with a psychotherapist from the American Trauma Victims Association (ATVA). Josh isn't there by choice but through the concern of his coworkers and the Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry (John Spencer), following a series of escalating, uncharacteristic outbursts.

He arrives at the meeting in all his typical glory, with merciless one-liners and lackadaisical swagger at the ready, as well as a hand injury he brusquely dismisses as a minor accident. The longer the meeting lasts, however, the more agitated Josh becomes in reaction to the psychotherapist, Stanley (Adam Arkin), until he receives crucial answers to questions he wasn't cognizant of asking. Stanley diagnoses Josh with PTSD; the episode's conclusion is a bittersweet mixture of hope alongside uncompromising honesty that other media of the era may have avoided.

Even after 24 years, "Noël" is a mini-miracle in production and content value. For context, post-traumatic stress disorder occurs after an individual survives or witnesses an event threatening their physical safety or another traumatizing occurrence. The National Institute of Mental Health describes the re-experiencing symptoms as "reliving the trauma over and over, including physical symptoms like a racing heart or sweating," and how "symptoms may cause problems in a person's everyday routine," such as heightened anger and a lack of focus, and "words, objects, or situations that are reminders of the event can also trigger re-experiencing symptoms." Long associated with combat veterans, anyone can have PTSD following a life-threatening or psychologically volatile experience, such as a severe car accident or the passing of a loved one. Triggers vary person-to-person; some may tie directly to the inciting event while others occur during the person's routine surroundings.

In Josh's case, his triggers are noises that unconsciously remind him of emergency sirens — specifically, the brass and string musicians playing in the lobby during the three weeks of December. Hearing "loud" Christmas music, one of the most beloved traditions of the holiday, gives rise to Josh's irregular behavior in an ever-building subliminal way. He's hostile towards coworkers, and his irritability is out of proportion to the scenario; he's unable to process, understand, or truly notice his reactions. He even slips and says "I can hear the damn sirens all over the building" before immediately correcting himself to "the bagpipes" as if in a haze.

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Truthfully, Josh doesn't realize anything is different about himself and mocks Stanley from the start. Although he doesn't say as much, Josh is insulted by the insinuation he needs therapeutic support. Because he's ignorant of the literal sense of his needs, let alone how to healthily approach them, the episode's emotional apex unfolds during a congressional Christmas performance by acclaimed cellist Yo-Yo Ma. Just like the musical instruments, Ma's performance reminds Josh of the incident and induces a flashback where he relives the danger as if he were physically in that location and time; his fight-or-flight activates, he tastes adrenaline in his mouth, he panics. The experience plays on an emotional loop, and episode editor Bill Johnson mimics as much by sporadically flashing between three different — but inseparable — events: Ma's performance, Josh's memories of the shooting, his reactions in the White House, and his consultation with Stanley, all while overlapping the cello chords with vehicle sirens, glass breaking, and a man knocking at Josh's apartment door. It's overwhelming. And without the tools to identify his triggers, without the professional guidance to recognize the symptoms, Josh feels powerless all while denying anything can be wrong.

Another level of accuracy lies in how those diagnosed with PTSD may unintentionally misremember events. Before "Noël," The West Wing had never dabbled in the realm of unreliable narrators. Viewers and characters alike don’t have a reason to doubt Josh’s account about how he injured his hand, except for the fact that it’s clearly, patently false, because something is clearly, patently wrong with Josh himself. From Josh's perspective, he isn't lying about his hand; he genuinely believes it's from broken drinkware rather than slamming his hand through a glass window after the cello performance. As Stanley explains, "You're in nine kinds of pain," confused and unsure, while his psyche scrambles to "damage control" regardless. The goal isn't for Josh to share his feelings and find a magical fix; the goal is to remember his trauma without reliving it. The terrified, agonized hope in Josh's eyes after someone named and legitimized his pain is heartbreaking. Here, finally, is an answer. Here is the understanding he wasn't aware could be afforded him.

'The West Wing's "Noël" Episode Wouldn’t Succeed Without Bradley Whitford's Performance

Bradley Whitford as Josh Lyman in The West Wing Noël Episode Image via NBC

By no means was Josh Lyman an underutilized character before this episode. Sorkin’s scripts often favored him, in fact, to the point that viewers are quite aware by this point of who Josh is: a man as passionate, hyper-intelligent, and full of idealistic integrity as he is bull-headed, deliberately obtuse, and probably stuck in some form of arrested development. His tendency to verbally railroad others with weaponized insults frequently comes across as more cruel than clever, even if some instances aren’t intentional (and some of his self-indulgent quips are worth a laugh).

What Josh lacked before "Noël," then, was a defined dramatic arc — not just frustration over their fragmenting political ecosystem or a triumphantly inspirational turn of phrase, but something with teeth. "Noël" reinterprets Josh’s comedic tendencies through his new reality and gives Whitford a chance to incorporate new shades into his performance. Josh’s biting one-liners become a nasty yet necessary defense mechanism, as knee-jerk an instinct to protect himself like a wounded animal huddled and hissing in the corner, and therefore out-of-sync with the dramatically altered world Josh now inhabits. His new reality isn’t one of easy camaraderie but a constant flight-or-flight mélange of panic, danger, and fear.

The first obvious indicator that something is profoundly wrong about Josh (not just different) is the moment he bulldozes a staff meeting in the Oval Office. His rambling speech turns increasingly nonsensical, repeating “listen to me” over and over again until it devolves into begging shouts. Josh has always been emotionally constipated, but for perhaps the first time in his life that we know of, he’s desperate and lost — falling off a cliff where no one can hear him screaming, but he doesn’t even know why he’s screaming. This is a man who’s unraveling at the seams, even when his heightened energy circles back on itself to become dull and soulless, compared to the invigoratingly chipper man with whom we’re familiar.

"Noël" earned Whitford his first Emmy nomination and his first win (out of the three total nominations he would earn during his tenure on The West Wing). Whitford was keenly aware that this particular script required a different approach than his usual weekly performances. He told The West Wing Weekly podcast (hosted by musician and podcaster Hrishikesh Hirway and Whitford's fellow West Wing cast member, Joshua Malina):

"I didn’t want the material to sound...chipper. You know, I didn’t want it to be...not what Aaron’s writing is, but the parody of what Aaron’s writing is. I remember consciously not wanting to, in those scenes with him, be as conscious of the rhythm as you are in a fun scene with Donna."

Despite Whitford’s uncertainty, nervousness, and "frustration" about his performance at the time, he reflects: "I remember this being, you know, one of the great creative experiences in my life."

'The West Wing' Isn't Afraid to Look at the Dark Side of Christmas

In typical West Wing fashion, "Noël" plays with expectations by setting Josh's moment of emotional reckoning on Christmas Eve and what led to it in December. There's no moment the White House isn't decked out with ceiling-high trees, colorful light strands, wreaths on doors, giant red bows, and garland-draped doorways. In direct contrast to Josh's trauma, his coworkers are excited about Ma's performance and enjoy it earnestly and guilelessly. By shattering the stigmas surrounding PTSD through Josh's achingly honest pain, "Noël" highlights the dark energy unique to December. Many long for the idyllic simplicity of carols, Hallmark movies, and hot cider, and wanting that solace isn't wrong as long as neighbors obey the "love as thyself" commandment and embrace those who are hurting. The family-focused seasons and the bitter instability of the close to another year and all it wrought bring many, many hardships. Yet society loves to bury those cycles of pain under merry traditions and shopping deals as unhealthy as candy lodged in one's tooth.

This brings the narrative full circle to Leo, a man diagnosed with alcoholism. He recites a parable to Josh about a man who fell into a hole and the friend who leaped down with him "because I've been here before, and I know the way out." Often the hardest part of any mental health condition is asking for help, let alone accepting it when offered. Combined with Stanley assuring Josh he won't relive the incident every time he hears music "because we get better," Josh understands he can heal because a dear friend knows that path well. Leo extending genuine acceptance and grace toward Josh embodies the authentic meaning of Christmas as it's pushed to the world at large more than any set of bagpipes could.

In the episode's closing scene, a group of carolers singing "Carol of the Bells," complete with rhythmic bell-ringing, briefly paralyzes Josh into silent reflection. The handheld camera — a rarity for The West Wing — slides onto a skewed angle as it rushes through the scene until it's painfully close to Josh's half-numb, half-terrified expression. Once again, even the most artistic musical interludes in "Noël" come across as exaggeratedly intrusive and threatening, rather than background noise adding to a scene’s ambiance or something seasonal to be treasured. It's not enough for Josh to just admit his condition or for Leo to reassure him. Where other series might present a fully and instantly healed Josh, the episodic equivalent of a Christmas gift wrapped up with a bow on top, Sorkin instead refuses to let Josh emerge unscathed. As soon as Josh steps outside the White House, he’s confronted with his trauma’s trigger, and we don’t need complex editing techniques to understand that he’s internally reacting to the music.

The key difference is that Josh isn't screaming in the dark alone. He has people who will show him how to crawl free. It doesn’t matter how resilient anyone is individually – they simply lack the tools to emerge from certain circumstances without help. He holds his emotional response to those bells alongside the newfound awareness of what it means for his life. Aaron Sorkin accepts the wintertime wounded through Josh, a character famous for always having (and needing) the last word. "Noël" makes room for the December times that are beautiful, melancholy, and as complex as the human experience.

The West Wing TV Poster

Inside the lives of staffers in the West Wing of the White House.

Release Date September 22, 1999

Seasons 7

Writers Aaron Sorkin

Network NBC

Directors Thomas Schlamme

Showrunner Aaron Sorkin

The West Wing is available to stream on Max in the U.S.

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