We're just over halfway through the shortened nine-episode season of The Newsroom, so it's time to take a look at the report card.

Last week, we mentioned Aaron Sorkin's propensity to take on board his critics suggestions. It's a statement that could typify the season as a whole, because so far season two has served up a vastly different Newsroom to its predecessor.

The show, it seems, is no longer about the media, or not foremost at least. Last season, the central focus was devoted to repairing an ailing news commentary space, and characters were predominantly secondary to the "mission to civilise". This time last season there had already been episodes devoted to Deepwater Horizon, Gabby Giffords and the Egyptian revolution, with the Osama bin Laden assassination on its way. This season, there's nary a rant in sight (I kind of miss them, actually).

The ground has shifted beneath the viewer, for the newsroom is not purely a space to comment on media shortcomings any more, but now simply a contextual backdrop for drama. Much like Sterling Cooper and Partners in Mad Men or the CIA surveillance room in Homeland, the ACN station is fast becoming simply the familial hub, as the show transitions to be less about what happens on camera to what happens off it.

The stories themselves have become secondary to the individual plights of the characters, and the priorities of the show have changed (not least because of the reception of the first season), to make room for a more sentimental Newsroom.

Make no mistake: stylistically, this episode may be similar to the first season, but substance-wise it could not be more different. Whenever we ventured to the newsroom in the past, it was to learn a lesson about how a story should have been covered – a classroom of sorts. This season, it's simply been a spiritual home for that more character-driven approach, and after a few weeks on the road, all the narrative threads have been brought back home to roost.

And this week, Sorkin's used his beloved, and highly effective, "real-time" device to document his dysfunctional family in the most concentrated way possible (keep an eye out for his highly anticipated biopic on Steve Jobs also to play out in three real-time scenes, each prior to an Apple product launch).

Yes, they squabble as if at Thanksgiving dinner (“I know this isn't your fault, but I really do hate you anyway”), but they also band together against the likes of "Bonnie and Clyde" prank callers and douchebag ex-boyfriends. And this episode was all about the broad branches of The News-room family tree.

The solitary uncle

Will McAvoy cuts a forlorn figure this week in the anchor's chair, lonely save only for the accompaniment of the key and fill lights of the stage. Our great crusading hero is being mercilessly picked apart by agents offscreen, be it a fellow journalist who spends the episode abusing him on Twitter for an innocuous brush-off, or the unarguably more serious occurrence of his dad suffering a heart attack midway through the broadcast.

But parallels dance between the two, as the banality of one belies the severity of the other. Because some element of Will at heart remains a numbers man – as the journalist profiling him in season one duly noted – he craves the audience as it makes him feel less lonely. Every single viewer gained is a friend, each one lost a casualty. He can't help but seek out public opinion, even if it hurts him, and it leaves him nursing his ego for most of the show.

Will's "daddy issues" have been mined before, so we know this inferiority complex stems from him, an abusive alcoholic who naturally never offered any fatherly reassurance or support. And as Mack enters the studio each ad break to implore Will to ring his father before it's too late, we know where we're headed.

Jeff Daniels does a terrific job with complexity of character this week, showing off that he can do dazzlingly bombastic (America's not the greatest country in the world) just as well as emotional restraint. He's helped by some deft camerawork – something The Newsroom isn't overly known for – but that close-up of Will as the studio lights glance across his face before he goes to air tells us everything we need to know about the chaos playing out behind the stillness. Spine-tingling stuff.

When the inevitable arrives, and we realise Will's dad has passed, it sees a rare crack in the facade, and so he ends the show resignedly red-eyed: "Well, I guess it's just us now". Whether he's making a remark to his sister who's watching, or whether he's reinforcing that the audience is really the only relationship he truly has now, we may not know. We do know it's a result of a more sentimental, character-heavy Newsroom.

The confused cousins

Much like George-Michael and Maeby in Arrested Development, Don and Sloan are just one prolonged "alone-time" sequence away from falling into each other's laps.

The pair have really been the only viable blossoming relationship of the season, and as such have been the receptacle for Sorkin's undying love for screwball-comedy tropes (noticed how Don's fallen down a lot this season?).

And so when Sloan is faced with the online surfacing of some nude shots, courtesy of a disgruntled ex-boyfriend, she takes comfort on the floor of Don's room, trying to revive her spirits with some truly terrible animal jokes.

Meanwhile, Don's dealing with a faux-pas of his own, but it doesn't distract him from the task at hand – feeding the URST until bursting point. “You're impressive”, he pines, “I don't why you have such a low opinion of yourself.” It's a wonder the actors haven't just taken it upon themselves to kiss.

“But it feels right after every line,” I can imagine Olivia Munn and Thomas Sadoski saying.

“No! More tension! More tension!” You don't argue with Sorkin.

Don advises her of the humiliation-to-rage spectrum, varying person to person – apparently it took the Germans 15 to 20 years to make the inevitable transition from one to the another. It seems Sloan's was a much quicker turnaround. Within 20 minutes we've moved from an admission that she wants to die, to the classic one-two, groin-face knockout at her ex-boyfriend's office, and Don was right behind her. I have to admit, I was cheering.

Also, I have the sneaking suspicion this character arc will be once again be extracted, packaged and presented as yet another exhibit in the mounting case against Sorkin's ability to write strong female characters, but I think anyone that tries to outline how any person, male or female, should react to this situation is being grossly presumptuous and flagrantly unrealistic.

The off-the-rails niece

We all know where this is going, it's just a matter of how quickly it take to get there.

After Maggie's horrifyingly traumatic experiences last week, we know a crack in the facade is imminent, and Sorkin teases us with a few slow burns this week.

Resigned to the background for much of the episode, we are fed small morsels of the breakdown to come. Be it the smell of vodka apparently wafting around Maggie's desk, or the blends of high-strung sarcasm that taint each line she delivers, or most crucially an error on a seemingly simple voice edit – both a narrative device and a clever reminder of the role of edits in the Zimmerman trial – the wheels are coming off spanner-work by spanner-work.

Despite being slightly secondary this week, Sorkin does give Maggie the best argument of the episode, as he bemoans how we frequently discuss sexism in the media, ignoring the fact the media is perpetuatingly sexist itself. Why go searching for sexism when it's so deliriously right in front of you? You can play a game if you like: count the number of photos on a news site that show unnecessary cleavage in a preview photo. And with that, I'm off to look at some articles on nip-slips.

But do watch this space. More on this as it develops.

The wise, and wise-cracking, grandad

The continuation of the Genoa arc is left to Charlie this week, and finally we get our first piece of somewhat credible evidence!

And, truthfully, you know your story has legs when an unnamed press liaison, a "spook", comes to stifle your progress. Turns out Jerry "no smiles" Dantana's work started to ruffle the feathers of some higher echelons of government, and it's now up to the patriarch of the News Night family to decipher the backwards code thrown his way by said spook, who goes about trying to justify the rationale behind chemical warfare over a casual scotch. As you do.

And just as Charlie is ready to pursue Genoa with renewed all-purpose vigour, spurred on by the knowledge that people are becoming disgruntled, another miracle piece of evidence serendipitously falls out of the sky. As it so happens, spook is actually on their side! Contrary to the entire discussion up until that point, and never at all explains, he backflips and delivers Charlie a golden ticket in the form of an expense report for Genoa, featuring an anonymous, no-name substance that the team deduce must be sarin gas.

Genoa is fast becoming so untenable, and eerily convenient, that it risks ruining the premise of the season. Things better get very credible very fast.

The rousing aunt

A special, brief mention must go to the glue that holds the family together. Emily Mortimer brings Mack some of that Notting Hill charm (where she played a character literally named "Perfect Girl"), looking out for all the straying members of her flock. Be it micro-managing Will (“I think tonight's one of those nights where you should do everything I tell you”), to preventing prime-time catastrophes such as faux Syrian citizens making it to air, Mack is the foundation of News Night, a stabilising force.

And now for the news in brief...

The Aaron Sorkin musical variety hour

Thematic music was again absent this week, but it will return sure as Genoa will receive another spontaneous tip-off. I desperately want to say Sister Sledge's We are Family would have fit nicely in here somewhere, but no. Feel free to leave your suggestions in the comments. At least it wasn't Fix You again. If Chris Martin retired now, he could live off the royalties of that one song.

The Zuckerberg zinger award

Who said sarcasm was the lowest form of wit? Maggie's scorn-laden quip trumps all this week – as the excruciatingly slow computer download begins its countdown, she turns to Jim to slaughter him with sing-song smiles: “All I want in the world is for you to be standing over my shoulder for the next 99 per cent.”

Umm, a bit far?

Genoa, Genoa, Genoa! It's too good to be true! There hasn't been this much coincidence and good fortune in a news story since … ever.

Terry Smith is up next with The Capitol Report.