As our anchorwoman navigates the newsroom, she must brush off innuendo and swat away gropes in order to prove that she can cut it in an anchorman’s world.
Mostly we see it in movies, romanticized in “Up Close and Personal” and skewered in “Anchorman,” both loosely inspired by the pioneering TV presenter Jessica Savitch. Occasionally we even see it play out on television, as we did last month, when a race runner assaulted a local television reporter on the air, and she glared after him for less than a second before resuming her coverage.
Sexual harassment has long been a part of the anchorwoman’s pop-culture origin story. For 15 years, they had awakened the nation with their special blend of not-quiiiiiite-sexual chemistry, and then, she tells Chip, “My on-air partner, my TV husband, is a sexual predator now?” Her implied question is: What does that make me? Two mysteries hang over the rest of the season: What exactly did Mitch do? And what did Alex know? Mitch’s disgraceful exit has bumped Alex into reputational limbo. “Don’t drag America into this,” she says. When his co-host, Alex Levy (Jennifer Aniston), reports to a chaotic pre-dawn set, her producer, Chip (Mark Duplass), says something sycophantic about how much America needs her, and she snaps. to learn that he has been fired over allegations of sexual misconduct. Mitch Kessler (Steve Carell), the Matt Lauer-ish co-host of a “Today” show-ish program, answers the phone at 3 a.m. It's a lesson I'm happy to relearn every day.“The Morning Show” begins with a wake-up call. He didn't say that exactly, but that's what I heard. That man had enough compassion for a dorky out-of-towner to tell me to believe in myself and to always be grateful for what I have.
I never realized until now that this may be my way of giving back to a person whose name I never learned, of bringing the story full circle. Today I work with Help USA, a group that assists people who are homeless because of poverty, domestic violence, or war-induced trauma. I've tried to share this lesson with young people just starting out, but if I tell them to quit their crying, they reply, "That's easy for you to say." They don't believe I struggled, too.
He helped me snap out of my self-pity and be grateful for the opportunities I had had. "Then quit your crying," he said, "and get to work." "I have a cold ( sob, sob), I hardly have any money, my feet are wet ( sob, gulp), I want to be an actress and ( snuffle, sob) nobody's casting me." He and I continued across the street to the sidewalk, where we finished our conversation. In the middle of 57th and Broadway, a man who looked to be homeless came up and said, "Whatchoo crying for, lady?" We're not talking pretty crying, either-this was snotty crying, with gulping sobs. One day I was slogging along in this mess-I had a fever, I was wearing sneakers, my feet were wet, I wasn't getting cast in any shows-and I started to cry. There were huge, slushy puddles at every corner, and you'd have to leap to get from the street to the sidewalk. Winter came, and I had never seen such snow. I'd get a number so I could come back at lunchtime and audition, and then I'd go to whatever temp job I had. Every morning I got up at 6 so I could stand in the Actors' Equity line. I lived in a fourth-floor walk-up apartment with a bedroom the size of a bathroom you could fit a single bed, a dresser, and not much else. And no matter where you come from, no matter your education or training, you are not prepared for this city. As I lugged my suitcase behind me, I thought, "Look out, here I come!" But four months later, I still had no acting jobs. Then a stranger let her know (rather bluntly) just how much she had to be grateful for.Ībout 25 years ago, I got off the bus from Washington, D.C., to start my career as an actress in New York City. It was the winter of her discontent: She had no money, no acting parts, and no snow boots.