Written by Carol Flint
Directed by Laura Innes
“It’s part of healing…moving on.”
The Dover Test had me puzzled. It seemed to be full of cynicism, sorrow, mean-spiritedness, and fraying nerves. People sniping at each other, people at a loss, & people full of quiet irritation as policies, procedures, and personalities became embroiled in (not always) quiet conflict.
Then, in a magical final two acts, it’s all tied up in a way best summarized by the quote of the week: “it’s part of healing…moving on.”
This episode sees the first steps in the White House staff’s attempts to move on with their lives, following weeks of turmoil, tension, and seismic change. We have CJ facing up to her micro-management, Toby learning he can’t juggle so many balls, and Josh realizing that Bartlet’s administration has entered the end game.
And then there is Leo — in a quiet, gorgeous sub-plot consumed with relocating the centred, still point in his life…and starting fresh, with nothing but the basics: some nan bread, a soft bed, turning off the TV, and the helping hand of someone who cares.
There are still some time bombs hiding in the wings — some are fascinating potential explosions of creative, caring energy (Jimmy Smits, in a performance that confounds audience expectations, let alone those of Josh), while others are heading for an inevitable Hiroshima-style emotional meltdown (Donna’s slow slide into a very dark place). The Dover Test sets the stage for these future events with quiet dignity.
For the second straight week in a row, we get a transitional episode. But last week’s chess movements give way to this week’s multitude of character tone poems…ending with a moving visit to the troops by President Bartlet, which once more showcases why his warmth, compassion and commanding authority is something sorely lacking in today’s harsh political climate.
You may not remember its details, but you’ll remember The Dover Test for its warmth — tingling at your senses the way fresh bread rekindled Leo’s sense of self.
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