‘Impeachment: American Crime Story’ Episode 7 Recap: The Scandal

My God, where to begin.

ACS Impeachment Episode 7, “The Assassination of Monica Lewinsky,” is primarily about just that—the character assassination of the young woman at the heart of the whole network of Bill Clinton scandals. It’s about the way a hungry press, an overeager right-wing prosecutor, and a gleeful entertainment industry took a vulnerable young woman and tore her to shreds, hour after hour, day after day, for month after month. It’s also about how a president lied to almost everyone he knew about the nature of his relationship with that woman. It’s also about how the friend who exposed and betrayed her was ridiculed in turn, nearly as badly as Monica Lewinsky herself.

It’s difficult to watch. It’s riveting to watch.

One of the throughlines for the episode is William Jefferson Clinton himself. It’s fascinating to see him contort himself based on the task at hand. When he’s testifying in a deposition for the Paula Jones lawsuit, he is steely and self-confident in denying the allegations levied at him by Paula and Kathleen Willey, to the point that Paula herself runs out of the room crying, so horrified is she at his ability to dissemble—at least, that’s how she sees it.

But when the topic of Monica Lewinsky comes up, his demeanor shifts. He starts stuttering, umm-ing, repeating phrases as if rehearsed. It’s noteworthy that he reacts this way only when discussing the Lewinsky situation; you could be forgiven if you thought this was the show’s way of arguing that these were the only allegations with teeth, if not for its portrayal of Paula as genuinely devastated when he denies sexually harassing her. It’s studious work on the show’s part, allowing it to remain agnostic as to the truth of the more severe charges against Clinton, allowing the audience to decide for itself.

Yet as his affair with Monica morphs from a sideshow to the main attraction, Clinton is depicted as digging himself deeper and deeper. He lies to his wife, Hillary. He kinda-sorta-yeah-but-not-quite-but-actually pressures his secretary Betty Currie into lying on his behalf. He lies to all his close advisors: his lawyer Bob Bennett, his senior advisor Sidney Blumenthal (David Lynch mainstay Patrick Fischler), his press secretary Mike McCurry (Scott Michael Morgan). The only person to whom he feels he can tell the truth is his disgraced pollster Dick Morris (Brent Sexton), who himself fell victim to a sexual-impropriety scandal. Watching Clinton say that he “did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky” lacks none of its power to shock even now, over twenty years since he first fed this bullshit to the public.

As for Monica, what can she do? She simply holes up in her hotel suite at the Watergate with her mother as the nation’s newsmen and comedians turn her into a punchline. From Jay Leno to David Letterman to Ted Koppel, no one looks good here. She’s mocked for her weight and her sexuality. Her previous abusers are trotted out as pious victims of her acquisitiveness. The president himself lies about her, on camera, in front of the entire nation. She’s reduced to a shell of herself, sobbing on her bed.

And what is Linda Tripp’s reward for her yeoman’s work in bringing the Lewinsky Affair to the nation’s attention? A brief flurry of press attention outside her front door, followed by her transformation into a national laughing stock, same as her erstwhile friend Monica.

In one of the episode’s most retrospectively brutal segments, we watch a Saturday Night Live sketch in which Monica, played by a smiling Molly Shannon, has her fateful wiretapped lunch date with Linda, played by John Goodman in drag. Goodman, as beloved a Hollywood figure as can be, does nothing to disguise the fact that he’s a large man in women’s clothing; he even makes his voice more butch than usual. This is how the world sees Linda: ridiculous, mannish, literally too big for her britches.

It leads to what is for me the most heartwrenching part of the episode, in which Linda recounts to her daughter Allison (Emma Malouf) her history of being picked on as a kid. Her fellow high school students used to call her “Gus,” as in basketball player Gus Johnson, “an enormous man.” Here was Linda’s opportunity to genuinely relate to Monica, who was also targeted for social opprobrium over her size, instead of exploiting her. For one brief shining moment, Linda had a friend who could relate to her, and she blew it. Worse, she blew it on purpose, to feed her own self-aggrandizement. It’s the biggest what-could-have-been moment of the series.

I think it’s to the credit of the episode’s writers (Flora Birnbaum, Daniel Pearle, and showrunner Sarah Burgess) and director (Michael Uppendahl) that every character save Monica is treated with the same blend of sympathy and disgust. Linda Tripp is obviously a pitiable figure, brought low by her own ambition. Bill Clinton is portrayed as a man whose grandiose and noble aims are undermined by his serial caddishness. Monica? She’s just some poor kid who got sucked into the wake left behind by powerful men, from Clinton to the ever-so-pious Ken Starr (as contemptible a person as exists in the show’s universe) to her high-school drama teacher. She’s been failed by every man in her life, up to and including her indefatigable lawyer Bill Ginsburg, who tries and fails to secure an immunity deal for her. Wouldn’t you be left crying on your bed, alone?

Sean T. Collins (@theseantcollins) writes about TV for Rolling Stone, Vulture, The New York Times, and anyplace that will have him, really. He and his family live on Long Island.

Watch Impeachment Episode 7 on FX