Second … is the way Margulies balances the requirement that she be subtle against the need for Alicia to be an iconic character — the sort that an old movie star would have played were The Good Wife a series of, say, 1940s or ’50s MGM films rather than an ongoing TV show. We like watching Alicia looking poised and beautiful and well-dressed, because those are the old-movie values, maybe the only old-movie values, that have traveled from the early 20th century to the early 21st without much alteration; they’re tradition. But we also like watching Margulies be vulnerable, conflicted, recognizably human. The most exciting moments in nearly any Good Wife episode are the moments when Alicia is confronted with a new and potentially upsetting piece of information — [w]e know everything she’s feeling though she plausibly hides it from other characters and the public. We see the lies and the truth at once. We also see her choosing to exercise her authority, however much she has in a given scene, by the length of her pauses, and the way she looks at people. As my friend Elisa puts it, ‘There’s power in the way she uses silence.’ I’d rather watch Alicia Florrick think before responding to a question than watch the typical CGI cityscape being destroyed. The expressions that flicker across her face without quite coalescing and giving the game away hint at alternate universes in which Alicia made the wrong choice, or the right one. Margulies’s performance is proof that ‘small’ acting can be as thrilling as the other kind. Maybe more so.
I feel you, Brad Today at work Jaime (hi Jaime!) and I were talking about how much stuff gets cut out of TV shows and I remembered the time I ate lunch in the background of Brad Goreski’s reality show. I told her how it probably never made it to air and she said that the only thing she remembers from that show is how they shot at a restaurant she loves — the very same one I had lunch at. Lo and behold an hour later, I found my half second of fame. YOU GUYS, I CAN DIE HAPPY NOW.