O Brother, Where Art Thou

 SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

In the film Sullivan’s Travels, the main character is a filmmaker who travels to find what real life is about and make a film entitled O Brother Where Art Thou? In the Coen Brothers movie with that title, we have a farcical version of true life, reversing the process of the earlier motion picture’s protagonist, but showing the real-life situations beneath the exaggerated exterior. The opening notes cite The Odyssey as the film’s source material, but the tone here is mock epic.

The main character is Ulysses Everett McGill (George Clooney), and his real goal is to return to his wife, Penny (Holly Hunter). So, the names and the quest establish the link to Homer’s epic, Penny referring to Penelope in Homer’s epic. This Ulysses, however, is a convict, not a war hero, a character that can be associated with everyday life. Clooney excels in delivering fast-paced, pretentious speech here, as he also does in the Coens’ Intolerable Cruelty. His language is in contrast to the lowly situation he is in, since he is incarcerated in a chain gang. There are many contrasts here as the whimsical, humorous aspects contrast with the bigotry and corruption in the tale. As Adam Nayman points out in his book The Coen Brothers, the song included in the film, “The Big Rock Candy Mountain,” suggests a utopia where “the downtrodden and dispossessed” do not exist, which is in direct contrast to what the Coens depict in their Depression-era movie. Nayman says the colors used in the cinematography are vivid, making the film a “gilded Dust Bowl” story. Again, there is that sense of artifice stressed in the midst of a movie relating a dark time in American history. (The soundtrack of traditional, downhome music was a hit and received the Grammy for “Album of the Year.).

The movie begins with this Ulysses handcuffed to other convicts on a chain gang, the volatile Pete (John Turturro) and the intellectually challenged but sweet Delmar (Tim Blake Nelson). Being bound together physically brings about an emotional bonding despite the differences in these characters and adds an optimistic aspect to the story.

The three men escape their captivity, and as Nayman points out, we see them popping into the horizon like plants growing out of the soil. Nayman says that the whole film has this universal homage to what is basic and universal to humankind, as if the men were “products of the rich, fertile Delta soil.” Perhaps the Coens using a mythological structure means that they are aiming at the universal that binds us all.

They visit Pete’s cousin who removes the shackles, change out of their prison garb, and spend the night in the barn. Everett tells the other two men he has over a million dollars that he hid from a robbery and will split it with them if they help him. However, the cousin called the police to get the reward on the men. Greed is a continuing theme in the Coens’ films, and it does harm to those who worship profit and the collateral damage associated with monetary gain. Everett utters a repeated phrase here when he says, “We’re in a tight spot!” The words are in opposition to his usual long-winded style when not in immediate danger. They are able to escape with the help of the cousin’s son, which shows compassion in the midst of selfishness.

The travelers come across a religious group. Delmar and Pete feel the need for salvation and are baptized. Everett, the rational-minded member, does not participate. However, despite the draw of splitting Everett’s cash, the desire for the other two to mend their ways shows that they are more upstanding than others in society who appear upright morally. Delmar is childlike, and it is that incorruptible aspect that puts him in contrast to the schemers that the men encounter on their journey. It’s as if the real culprits of society are on the loose, and the three convicts are minor transgressors in the scheme of things. These scenes are played broadly, but, as Nayman says, “lowbrow humor is deployed in the service of social commentary.”

The men then meet a hitchhiker, a black musician named Tommy Johnson (Chris Thomas King), who plays guitar and says he made a pact with the devil to become talented. Tommy says that Satan is not the scaly creature people envision, but is actually “white, as white as you folks. With empty eyes and a big hollow voice. He likes to travel around with a mean old hound.” For the black man, the devil is white, especially at this time. As it turns out later, we discover the demon is a policeman, one who is supposed to stand for morality, but instead is the devil beneath the trappings of justice.

The foursome come across a radio station run by a blind man (Stephe Root) who thinks the fellows are a black musical group. They record a song, “Man of Constand Sorrow,” as the “Soggy Bottom Boys” and collect some money for the performance. They do not realize it, but the recording becomes a hit, which helps them later. Nayman says that the blind DJ shows a white man’s not recognizing the music of African Americans and it is an example of cultural appropriation. However, could it also mean that music is universal, and thus it addresses people of all backgrounds despite its source?

The police are on their trail, headed by the devil-like Sheriff Cooley (Daniel von Bargen). They escape but become separated from Tommy. They run into “Baby Face” Nelson (Michael Badalucco) and are drawn into a bank robbery. Nelson is an unhinged character, and his nickname is in sync with the theme of the film in that the gangster’s innocent name hides a nasty fellow underneath.

The next attack on their innocence comes in a form that mirrors the temptation of the Sirens in The Odyssey. Beautiful women sing and do their laundry in the river. They are awash in clingy, wet clothes that stress their allure that draws the men to them. The next morning Delmar finds Pete missing. Inside his strewn clothes is a frog, and the superstitious Delmar believes the women cast a spell and turned Pete into the creature. The Coens continue to give us a magical exterior to the story, but it again is a coating of artifice that storytellers use to embellish the harshness of reality.

At a restaurant Everett and Delmar meet Big Dan Teague (John Goodman). He has that way with words that reflects a kinship with Everett. Big Dan has one eye, so he is the cyclops character in this version of the Ulysses tale. He is a bible salesman. All of this is a front that hides a mean character beneath the friendly surface. In a field where they are having a picnic, he beats up the two men, steals what money they have, kills the frog Delmar was carrying, and steals their car. Big Dan is the Mr. Hyde to Everett’s Dr. Jekyll.  

Everett and Delmar arrive at Everett’s hometown where Everett tries to talk with his wife, Penny, who is taking care of their seven daughters (seven being a magical number which fits in with the mythic framework of the story?) She is so ashamed of him she told the children he was killed. Penny is now engaged to Vernon T. Waldrip, who is the campaign manager for Homer Stokes (Wayne Duvall), who is running for governor. Nayman believes Waldrip is a reference to a writer, Howard Waldrop, who wrote a story that re-envisioned the labors of Hercules to the time of the Depression. In a way is what the Coens are doing with this film, reimagining a mystical tale. Stokes is another fraud. He acts like he is planning on getting rid of corruption, while in fact he is the head of the local KKK. He has a little person with him on the campaign using a broom to symbolize sweeping things clean for the “little” people in society. As Nayman points out, it is a condescending image, and the man’s campaign smacks of the “proximity of populist rhetoric and fascist ideology.”

Everett and Delmar find Pete (not a frog) as part of a prison chain again. The prisoners are in the audience in a movie theater (a film within a film? The Coens stressing storytelling?). He was turned in by the Sirens (more deviousness). They help Pete escape. Everett now reveals that there is no armored car stash of money. He was arrested for practicing law without a license – not so horrendous a crime compared to acts committed by some others - and all he wants to do is get back with his wife. His other character flaw may be his vanity, insisting on using “Dapper Dan” pomade. The problem is they will get fifty years for escaping, a geometrical multiplication of original infractions, which points to inequities in the legal system.

These three Depression musketeers come upon a KKK meeting where the white-robed Klansmen are ready to hang their pal, Tommy. Although the KKK rally mimics The Wizard of OZ, a fantasy, with its chanting like the scene in the 1939 film, what is happening is actually frightening. Stokes says, “Oh brothers … our women … looking to us for protection. From Darkies! From Jews! From papists, and from all those smart-ass folks say we come descended from monkeys! That’s not my culture and heritage!” The call to “brothers” echoes the title of the film, which here questions what people stand for. The three men are admirable as they rescue their African American friend in a dangerous situation (like the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion helped Dorothy), and show their place on the moral measuring stick. They topple a burning cross onto KKK member Big Dan in a bit of ironic justice, apparently killing the brute.

The four men come upon a campaign rally for governor. When they sing “Man of Constant Sorrow,” they reveal themselves as the Soggy Bottom Boys, and are wildly popular. The dancing and mugging as they sing the song is diverting, but the song identifies the four men with the hardships of everyday people. The crowd condemns Homer Stokes who derails himself by attacking the Boys for ruining his KKK rally. The shrewd current governor, Pappy O’Daniel (Charles Durning), embraces the Boys, knowing he will win the popularity of the masses. He pardons them. It is a left-handed way of doing the right thing.

Penny says she will take Everett back, but he must retrieve her wedding ring from their old cabin. The men go there but Sheriff Cooley is present and doesn’t care about a pardon. His men have dug their graves. Everett prays and then there is divine intervention this time to save them. A biblical-like flood immerses the valley. The men come across a floating desk and retrieve a ring from it (it almost reminds one of how Ishmael is saved in Moby Dick). However, when Everett gets back to Penny, she tells him that it’s not the right ring, which is now at the bottom of the lake. The man is always in that tight spot. Finding the ring at the end is like a Herculean task, an impossible thing in the real world, which fits with the mythic, mock-epic feel of this story.

Nayman sums up the way the Coens present their story by saying, “art with a message is less valuable than that which sets out, energetically and unpretentiously, to entertain.”

Favorite Movie Lines, Part II

SPOILER ALERT! The plots will be discussed.

Here are more not too well known movie lines that I like, and why I think they are noteworthy.

The American President:

Primarily a romantic comedy, this film, written by the man of many interesting words, Aaron Sorkin (A Few Good Men, The West Wing), also deals with the world of politics. Michael Douglas’ President Andrew Shephard (Does he have to ‘shepherd’ his country through the mire of negative politics?), who is a widower, must deal with the opposing party accusing him of undermining family values by becoming involved with a lobbyist, Sydney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening). She is depicted as a radical, who many years ago was at a flag burning, and is now pushing for environmental legislation reform. Shephard’s critics condemn him for having Wade sleep over at The White House, and thus exposing the president's young daughter to immorality.  Shepard’s speech at the end of the film addresses the divisive tactics of his political adversaries: “America isn’t easy. America is advanced citizenship. You gotta want it bad, ‘cause it’s gonna put up a fight … The symbol of your country can’t just be a flag: the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest.” He goes on to point out that instead of trying to solve a problem, some are only interested in gaining power, so they divert the population by “making you afraid of it, and telling you who’s to blame. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you win elections.”

Given the current adversarial political environment in America, where people denigrate others, blaming all of the nation’s ills on groups of people, instead of reaching out to come up with workable solutions, Sorkin’s words are still quite relevant.

French Kiss:

Here we have a lighter romantic comedy. Canadian Kate (Meg Ryan) is in France to try to win back her fiance. She encounters Luc (Kevin Kline, who adopts a very good French accent) who is outwardly a crook, but turns out to be the romantic good guy, who just wants enough money to own his own vineyard. Of course, by the end of the film the two become a couple.

Before that happens, Luc hides a stolen necklace in Kate’s bag, and sticks with her, saying he will help her with her boyfriend problem. Kate tries to convince Luc that it is important to display one’s feelings. She tells him, “A healthy person is someone who expresses what they are feeling inside. Express, not repress.” Luc feels that Kate shares too much of what she feels, and his sarcastic observation of her advice that sounds like it was uttered by some TV shrink is “In that case, you must be one of the healthiest people in the world.” Obviously these two are initially separated by more than where they come from geographically. Luc has a more pessimistic view of what to expect out of life, which can be seen when he says, “When people tell me they are happy, my ass begins to twitch.” Kate makes fun of Luc’s attitude by predicting what will become of him. She makes her face appear sad and droopy, pretends to hold a cigarette, and says in a raspy voice, “You’ll become one of those hunchbacked lonely old men, sitting in the corner of a crowded cafe, mumbling to yourself, ‘My ass is twitching. You people make my ass twitch.’”

By exposing each other’s foibles, and their good qualities, the two draw closer, realizing their happiness resides in neither Canada nor France, but in the love they share for each other.

Forget Paris:

It looks like we have a trend here centering on romantic comedies and France. This relatively unknown film is one of my favorites. Billy Crystal was one of the writers, and he also directed and starred in this movie. There are lots of lines to choose from here, and I just picked out a few. Mickey Gordon (Crystal) is a professional basketball referee. His father, who abandoned his family, dies, but wants to be buried with his war buddies in France. Mickey takes the body there, but the airline loses it. That’s where Ellen (Debra Winger) comes in, because she works for the airline. The body has been quarantined for health reasons, which astonishes Mickey: “He’s dead. He’s been de-healthed!” Ellen is very sympathetic, they get to know each other, fall in love, marry, and then separate. Their backstory is related at a dinner party. One recollection is that of Mickey saying to Ellen, “I’ll never forget my father’s last words to me: ‘Get out of my way.’ You can’t buy memories like that.”

At the dinner, Andy (Joe Mantegna) gets into a fight with his fiance, and Craig (Richard Masur) tries to console him by saying, “Here have some bread. Everything will look better after bread.” I like this line, because I know that food among my fellow Italian Americans is considered a non-pharmaceutical antidepressant. So, I can definitely relate to the sentiment expressed here.

While hanging out with his fellow referees, one guy reads from a tabloid which says that they dug up Abraham Lincoln, gave him a shot of some kind of reviving agent, and brought him back to life. Mickey says, “What were his first words? How did the play end?” It’s just a witty remark about the absurdity of these so-called “newspapers.”

The couple reunite and show up at the dinner. What a funny, and feel-good, movie.

Sleepless in Seattle:

Yeah, I know, another romantic comedy. But, the late, great Nora Ephron wrote this movie, so you can see why I would choose it. Widower architect Sam Baldwin (Tom Hanks) is hoping to spend some romantic time with a woman he met while working. However, his son, Jonah (Ross Malinger), does not like the lady, and wants his dad to pursue the person who sent a nice letter to him after Jonah talked of Sam’s loneliness on a call-in radio show. However, Sam does not know this lady (Meg Ryan, who shows up in a lot of these types of films), and warns Jonah how dangerous a strange woman can be by pointing out the movie, Fatal Attraction. After Jonah reminds his father that he wouldn’t let his son watch it, Sam says, “Well I saw it and it scared the shit out of me. It scared the shit out of every man in America!”  I just think Sam’s line is funny, fierce, and sums up the the deep impact that cautionary film about marital infidelity made on men. Do you know where your pet rabbits are?

Cat Ballou:

Lee Marvin plays an alcoholic cowboy named Kid Sheleen who was once a notorious outlaw in this Old West comedy. He is hired by the the title character, played by Jane Fonda, to get revenge for her father’s death. Sheleen gets sober enough to help save the day, but reverts to his drunken ways by the end of the film. One of Cat’s friends, Jackson Two-Bears (Tom Nardini) sees Sheleen on his cross-legged horse, both of who appear intoxicated, leaning against a building. Jackson comments about Sheleen’s eyes, and the outlaw asks what’s wrong with them. Jackson says, “Well they’re red, bloodshot.” Sheleen’s slurred response is, “You ought to see ‘em from my side.” A very funny sort of reversal joke that I didn’t see coming. When Marvin accepted the Oscar for Best Actor, he said that part of the award belonged to the horse.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid:

While on the topic of Western comedies, here is one of my favorites. It also addresses the theme of how progress can destroy those who no longer fit the current age. Butch (Paul Newman) and Sundance (Robert Redford) try to rob a train for the second time, but it is now equipped with a modern safe. Butch, ignorant of how to deal with this new security invention, asks for more explosives. The result is that the whole railway car gets blown up. As pieces fly everywhere, Sundance uses understatement to comical effect when he says, “Think ya’ used enough dynamite there, Butch?” Not only funny, but also sums up how the duo are out of touch with the new world which eventually pushes them out of the West to South America, where they meet their demise. I know the plot doesn’t sound funny, but if you have seen this movie you know there are plenty of humorous lines exchanged between Newman and Redford.

Unforgiven:

Well there’s not much that is funny in this revisionist Western from Clint Eastwood, which earned him Best Director and Best Picture Oscars. The notorious Will Munny (Eastwood) comes out of retirement after the death of his spouse, who reformed him, supposedly as a hired gun to get revenge for some prostitutes who had one of their co-workers disfigured by a client. However, the money for Munny becomes secondary, as the story shows a variety of violent men incapable of freeing themselves from their pasts. Except, there is a new young man who wants to become an outlaw, The Schofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvet), who has to face the horror of killing someone. Will tells him, “It’s a hell of a thing, killing a man. Take away all he’s got and all he’s ever gonna have.” The words are plain, but they are powerful in summing up how death ends not only what someone is but it also denies all of a person’s possibilities for the future. The Kid tries to rationalize their lethal actions by using the cliche, “Yeah, well I guess they had it coming.” Will won’t let The Kid off the hook, as he says, “We all got it coming, kid.”

Fargo:

My favorite Coen Brothers film, that somehow manages to perfectly blend humor and violence in this tale of crime in one of the coldest parts of the country. Even though the weather conditions are harsh, and the bad guys commit gruesome acts of violence, the story holds out hope in the relationship between the characters of Marge (Frances McDormand, in her first Oscar-winning role), and her husband, Norm (John Carroll Lynch). She is the pregnant police chief, called early in the morning, to get on the case involving some murders on the road. Norm rises, too, to make sure his wife has her breakfast. The two say how they love each other, and then she walks out of the door to her police car. But, she comes back in the house and says, “Hon?” Norm answers with the oft repeated regional response, “Yah?”  Then she says, “Prowler needs a jump.” Her words deliver the right sound and economy that fits Marge’s world. But, beyond that, the exchange shows how these two, despite the frigid temperatures, and the crimes committed in cold blood (brought about in contrast by a family devoid of affection), are there for each other, ready to bring a new child into their heart-warming world.

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

Since we’re talking about the Coens, here’s another winner. George Clooney is great in this film about three guys who escape from a chain gang and embark on a variety of adventures, suggested by The Odyssey and The Wizard of Oz. Clooney’s character, Ulysses Everett McGill, has the gift of gab, and thinks he can talk his way out of any situation, but he can’t. The convicts’ car breaks down, and he needs a part that the local vendor says will take two weeks to arrive. He then also has no use for the hair gel that the store stocks, and wants his usual brand, Dapper Dan. The vendor says he can order it, but it will take two weeks. Everett, which is what he is called, says, “Well, ain’t this place a geographical oddity. Two weeks from everywhere!” The line exemplifies Everett’s way with words, and also shows that no matter how he tries, he usually winds up eventually saying, “Damn! We’re in a tight spot!”

Aliens:

Even in this sci-fi horror classic from James Cameron there is a pretty funny line. The Marines have entered the area of the complex where the amazingly lethal aliens have cocooned the human occupants. Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) has realized that the soldiers can’t fire any weapons because they might rupture the nuclear reactor beneath them. When the Marines are told they can’t use their weapons and they must hand in their loaded magazines, Private Frost (Ricco Ross) says, “What the hell are we supposed to use, man, harsh language?” It’s just a great example of gallows humor, since the only way to deal with a hopeless situation is to laugh about it.

Blade Runner:

Speaking of classic sci-fi movies, here’s another one, which, again, is primarily serious, yet still maintains a bit of humor. Here we have a future that has become dehumanized, in the sense that the real people show less empathy and elicit less sympathy from the audience then do the synthetic humans, known as Replicants. The rich and the genetically superior have escaped earth to live “off-world,” where Replicants are used as slaves, and this world has become a sort of futuristic ghetto. One character, Sebastian (William Sanderson), a genetic engineer, suffers from a condition which disqualified him from leaving the planet. His aging process is accelerated, a situation that he shares with the Replicants, who have a four year life span. Sebastian helped to make these androids, but he has also tainted them with the human limitation of a limited lifetime. In this dehumanized world, Sebastian, says, “I make friends.” This statement is a funny play on words, because he literally creates robotic toys to keep him company. They march around his apartment in an abandoned building, symbolic of the emptiness in his small world and the one at large.

The Dark Knight:

This movie is “dark” for a number of reasons, especially in the use of the character of the Joker, played by Heath Ledger (for which he won, sadly, a posthumous Best Supporting Actor Oscar). This nihilistic clown dispenses only sick comic touches as he murders and blows up stuff on his ride down anarchy road in Gotham City. In one scene he explains how he, supposedly, received the upturned scars on his face that produced his deformed smile. He says his father, who “was a drinker and a fiend,” came at him with a knife and said, “‘Why so serious?’” He sticks the blade in my mouth. ‘Let’s put a smile on that face.’” The “s” sounds come out like the hissing of a snake, adding to the almost Satan-like quality of this villain. The inversion of comedy into horror is done by subverting the idea of showing happiness with a grin through mutilation. It is very effective writing, and acting.

The Ruling Class:

This is a film most people have never heard of, which is a shame, because it is a devastating satire on the British class system. Jack (Peter O’Toole, in a no-holds-barred performance) is a member of the aristocracy who is crazy, thinking he is Jesus Christ. He even has a huge crucifix in his mansion, where he literally hangs out on occasion. When asked how does he know he is God, he answers, “Simple. When I pray to Him, I find I am talking to myself.” An irreverent, but funny line. The irony of the story is that in his benign Christ-like delusion he is rejected by his peers, but is later welcomed when he becomes a sinister character.

Manhattan:

Although quite intelligent, and a filmmaker who makes references in his films to great artists, Woody Allen, nevertheless, likes to poke fun at the his fellow New Yorkers for allowing their intellectual abilities to be undermined by over-thinking everything. In this movie, while at a party, Allen’s character of Isaac listens to a woman who says, “I finally had an orgasm, and my doctor said it was the wrong kind.”  Isaac’s rebuttal is, “You had the wrong kind? I’ve never had the wrong kind, ever. My worst one was right on the money.”

Isaac also mentions that there is going to be a rally by Nazis, and that they should do something about it. One party guest says there is a satirical piece about it in the New York Times that is “devastating.” Isaac questions how effective intellectual tools are in this situation when he says, “Well a satirical piece in the Times is one thing, but bricks and baseball bats really get right to the point.” Yes, violence begets violence, but one could understand his outrage at how detached the purely cerebral stance can be.

Grosse Pointe Blank:

In this dark comedy about a professional killer who is losing his taste for his profession, we have John Cusack’s Martin returning to his home town after ten years for a high school reunion, hoping to reconnect with the person he once was, and also his girlfriend, Debi (Minnie Driver), who he split on. He has a difficult time accomplishing his goal. He has a humorous exchange about his cat with Debi, after he refers to the animal as “it.” She says, “It. You don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Martin’s response is, “I respect its privacy.” Funny, but also revealing, showing how Martin hasn’t been able to even have a close relationship with his pet.

He also feels frustrated that he can’t even see his old house, because it has been torn down, and a convenience store is now on the property. Martin, putting a twist on a famous phrase, says, “You can never go home again … but I guess you can shop there.”

At the end of the film, after some mayhem which involves the hilarious Dan Aykroyd, playing a hitman who wants to unionize assassins, Martin gets to drive off with Deb, who says in a prerecorded message on her radio show, “Some people say forgive and forget. I say forget about forgiving and just accept. And, … get the hell out of town.”

And that’s what I’m going to do now. The next film to be analyzed is Lifeboat.

Good Night, And Good Luck

SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

One aspect of this 2005 film, directed, co-written, and starring George Clooney (he’s not just a pretty face), is that it is a historical piece focusing on the United States in the 1950’s when a political witch hunt, led by Senator Joseph McCarthy, went beyond its original purpose to root out communist infiltrators, and targeted innocent people. But, there are aspects of this movie which are very relevant to the present concerning abuse of power by politicians and the role of the media.

Clooney shot the movie in black and white, and that choice brings authenticity to the production since during the time period in which the story takes place, television shows were primarily colorless. Viewing it now makes the audience feel as if it is witnessing something historical. And the battle between renowned CBS journalist Edward R. Murrow (David Strathairn) and McCarthy was definitely one for the history books. Also, real footage of McCarthy was used, which not only adds realism to the film, but also makes sense, since it was the senator’s public self, which the population viewed on their TV screens, that Murrow was targeting.

It almost seems difficult to believe, especially for younger people, that at this time, there were only three major network news sources that provided stories, for the most part, during only a small portion of the day and in the early evening. The nation relied a great deal on finding out about events by reading the daily newspapers. The television reporters came from journalism schools, and had to be of the highest caliber in their field to make it to broadcast news. And, because there were so few information choices, unlike the deafening onslaught of amateur news outlets today, the impact that one TV news personality could make was substantial. At the time, journalists were supposed to present the news objectively without personal interpretation or subjective observations. A newspaper would offer the management position only on the editorial page, and not in the writing of the news stories, and similarly, local news stations and national networks would wait to the end of their broadcasts to present commentary (Eric Sevareid was the go-to man for this job at CBS). Even though all of this neutrality has been replaced by personal viewpoints on most of the news programs, and even outright propaganda espousing, it was a big deal in the early 1950’s for Murrow to attack a United States senator.

The story is bookended by the dinner tribute to Murrow on Oct. 25, 1958, years after the confrontation with McCarthy, and it allows Clooney to present the journalist's respected reputation in the introduction to his appearance at the event. We are told Murrow was right in the middle of World War II, broadcasting from Britain during Hitler’s bombardment of that island. He also did groundbreaking stories on segregation and the exploitation of migrant workers, which shows his concern for the underdog, and investigative work on then FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover. But, Murrow does not present a speech of gratitude. Instead, he sort of bites the hand that feeds him, criticizing, prophetically, television’s problems. He says that the mass media, and in particular television, “is being used to distract, delude, amuse, and insulate us” from the realities of the world.

Because a soundtrack played throughout the film would be distracting, Clooney effectively uses soft jazz interludes with vocals, which work not only as chapter divisions and relief from a very talkative script, but which also comment on the narrative. After the 1958 opening, the time shifts to October of 1953, and we hear the song with the line, “TV is the thing this year.” Indeed, the hearings of Congress’ committee investigating communist activity inside the U. S. Government were shown on television, giving McCarthy that loud microphone to broadcast his agenda based on fear. Another example of musical commentary occurs when the CBS workers are paranoid about being under surveillance, and we hear Dianne Reeves sing, “I’ve got my eyes on you … sent my spies on you.”

There is a subplot story concerning news department workers Shirley Wershba (Patricia Clarkson) and her husband, Joe Wershba (Robert Downey, Jr.) which comments on the main narrative thread. The network has its own oppressive rule which prohibits co-workers from marrying each other. So these two try to keep their marriage secret, although we learn everyone seems to know the truth about them. The sanctions concerning their relationship seem to be part of a general state of control over individual freedom, as is illustrated by the fact the two talk about having to sign a loyalty oath mandated by CBS. If it is not signed, jobs will be lost. Even Murrow and his producer, Fred Friendly (Clooney) have signed it. This requirement shows how far the politics of fear has already spread.

Murrow first wants to investigate an officer released by the Air Force because his father read a Serbian newspaper, and who was thus considered to have ties to the Communist Party. There was a regulation which stated a person was a security risk if he or she associated with someone with communist connections. The Air Force required that the airman renounce not only his father, but also his sister. Friendly asks Murrow why he is taking on this story since it doesn’t have to do with McCarthy. Murrow emphasizes the reach of the witch hunt when he says, “Isn’t it?” The “evidence” against the officer is sealed, so the man hasn’t even had the opportunity to examine it, and try to refute it. Two colonels show up at CBS to demand that the network not air its piece without prior authorization. Friendly makes it clear that censorship is not an option. The military’s self-righteous stand is that only they can determine whether or not a person is a security risk, and the press has no say in the matter. This attitude of course is the argument that national security matters outweigh the freedom of the press. Many would agree that under certain circumstances the government must keep information secret for security purposes. But, here evidence against someone who they are accusing of being an enemy sympathizer is not classified information, and is only a smokescreen to prejudicially separate a man from his family because of assumed beliefs.

Murrow’s immediate boss, Sig Mickelson (Jeff Daniels), argues against Murrow and Friendly doing a piece on the officer, for fear of retribution by McCarthy. Mickelson points out that Murrow’s sponsor, Alcoa, has defense contracts with the government that could be pulled as punishment for bucking the Air Force over a story with communist overtones. The intimidation is palpable. Murrow makes the argument against always presenting balance to a story because he says that “there are not always two equal and logical sides.” For example, can we really argue the positive side of Nazism? The dedication of these men is seen when Murrow and Friendly must put up their own money to air the show. In the midst of this drama, these men still show a sense of humor. When Murrow says Friendly won’t have any funds for presents for his kids on Christmas, Mickelson says of Friendly, “He’s a Jew.” Murrow responds, “Well, don’t tell him that. He loves Christmas.” Also, just before airing the piece, Friendly jokes that he told the military he didn’t want to do the story. Murrow says that Friendly was always “yellow.” Friendly says, “Better than being red,” playing off of the saying at the time of “better to be dead than red.” The Air Force eventually reverses itself after Murrow’s shining the light on its unjust act, which illustrates the power of a free press.

Clooney adds some nice touches to show the power of television. He includes a commercial for Kent cigarettes. The salesman says he knows that the audience isn’t easily influenced by advertisements, but that manipulation is exactly what he is trying to do. The power to sway was eventually conceded, and cigarette ads are no longer aired. But, the scene stresses that TV can have a strong impact on the citizenry, as does any politician who uses media outlets.

Murrow must do journalistic penance for the network by adding more segments of the popular show at the time, “Person to Person,” where he does remote interviews with celebrities. Strathairn (in an Oscar-nominated performance) gives a telling look to show his disdain after someone tells him that one of these shows was good. Murrow, as we heard in the opening speech, sees the use of TV for purely entertaining distraction as being a waste of the medium. There is a segment where Murrow interviews Liberace, who is the real deal, just like McCarthy, and the pianist says, in response to a question about getting married, that he, like, Princess Margaret, is waiting for a “dream man, too.” Strathairn’s slight chuckle is perfect as it acknowledges Liberace’s slip concerning his closeted homosexuality, which also points to the repressive nature of the 1950’s. Also, the actor’s looks of concern for fellow besieged newsman Don Hollenbeck (Ray Wise) are right on the money. Hollenbeck can’t handle the collapse of his marriage and the onslaught of attacks labeling him a “pinko,” a communist sympathizer. After Murrow tells him he can’t go after Hollenbeck’s enemies and McCarthy, too, Hollenbeck commits suicide. You can see the dejection and guilt in Murrow’s face as he absorbs the loss of his colleague. For him, McCarthy’s abuse of power, which destroyed lives, has hit very close to home. We hear the vocalist singing, “Somewhere there’s music, somewhere there’s heaven,” which underscores what Murrow might hope for Hollenbeck. He gives an on-the-air eulogy for Hollenbeck, emphasizing the man’s honesty, with the implied contrast with the deceptive people who attacked him.

Murrow and Friendly must battle the head of CBS, William Paley (Frank Langella), who sympathizes with what the two men want to do, but who must deal with the government and sponsors. He advises them to let it go, because their stance may hurt their fellow employees if the government goes after them. Of course, it is just this persecution that Friendly and Murrow want to stop. Paley argues that the Senate will investigate McCarthy, and the problem will go away. He says that it isn’t the network’s job to try McCarthy in the press. But, Murrow has already granted that the senator will be given equal time to respond to any allegations made by CBS news. Some may say that his stance is fairer than what occurs today, where attacks in the media come in droves from all sides, and the task to defend oneself can be overwhelming. Paley acquiesces, but requires that all the staff undergo a rigorous background check to make sure there has been no contact by anyone with communist connections. One of the employees says that he didn’t know about it until after his divorce, but his ex-wife attended a Communist Party meeting, and he knows that this fact will be used against CBS. Murrow asks which one of them didn’t attend some kind of meeting or knew someone that espoused some anti-establishment sentiment. He says that McCarthy’s “Terror is right here in this room.” In witch hunts, the hunter is scarier than the witches he hunts.

On the March 9, 1954 broadcast, Murrow goes after McCarthy directly. Paley, in a funny phone call, asks Murrow if he’d go with him to see the Knicks play that evening. Murrow says he’s busy bringing down the network that night. Paley, probably wishing his joke about Murrow going to the game turned out to be true, says, “Oh, is that tonight?” In his commentary, Murrow says that “It is necessary to investigate before legislating. But the line between investigating and persecuting is a fine one, and the Junior Senator from Wisconsin has stepped over it repeatedly.” He argues, as many do now, that “We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty,” since without criticism, there is no free speech, and thus, no democracy. As to McCarthy’s tactic of presenting as fact what he pronounces into a microphone, Murrow says, “We must always remember, that accusation is not proof, and that conviction depends upon evidence and due process of law.” These words ring true even today, as each side of the political spectrum paints a picture of guilt involving opponents without fair scrutiny. Another line that reverberates today has to do with playing into people’s fears, instead of their better natures, since acting solely out of fear inhibits being able to evaluate the totality of a situation. Murrow doesn’t blame McCarthy for creating the atmosphere of fear of people who are different from those in the mainstream, “he merely exploited it,” which is what a demagogue does to gain power. The broadcast generally receives positive responses.

Again, the actual footage of the hearings is more powerful than any recreation since there is no artificial interpretation or filter to alter what really happened. We see McCarthy intimidating the African American woman, Annie Lee Moss, who worked in a code room, saying it is accepted that she is a communist, because a FBI undercover agent said so. He states this as a fact, and says what he really wants to know is why she, a known communist, was placed in the code room. It appears that he is going after someone else in the government, but by doing so, he has disgraced this woman. Another senator finally speaks up, saying that Moss has lost her job, and is condemned through hearsay, innuendo, and rumor, without producing an actual witness to give testimony. He says once the character assassination takes place, it can’t be erased from the minds of the public, and “that is the evil of it.” He receives loud applause, and we can feel that the tide is turning away from McCarthy.

McCarthy uses his equal time not to contest any of Murrow’s statements, which would be difficult to do since actual footage of the senator’s words exposed him for his unfair practices, but to attack Murrow. He says that the journalist was a member of a communist related organization, the International Industrial Workers, and belonged to the ACLU, which was on the government’s list of subversive organizations. He also states that a socialist dedicated a book to him. Murrow, in his next broadcast says he never belonged to the IIW, that the ACLU is not on any government list, and the book was dedicated to him because of his work reporting the war in Britain. Murrow points out that anybody who disagrees with McCarthy is automatically labeled a communist. Today, if someone disagrees with a politician, what the opposition has to say is also dismissed without hesitation as “fake news.”

We view the famous speech which puts a nail in McCarthy’s political coffin, as he is asked, “Have you no sense of decency, sir?” The CBS newsroom hears that the Senate has decided to investigate McCarthy, which leads to censuring him. But, Murrow and Friendly have to pay a professional price for their defiant courage. Paley cuts back Murrow’s show from an hour to a half hour, moves it from weekday prime time to Sunday, and he will only be allowed to do five more shows. However, the two seem satisfied with what they have accomplished, and promise to go out with a bang in those last broadcasts.

The film returns to that dinner tribute, and Murrow’s cautionary speech. He finishes his address by saying that if all TV is good for is “to amuse, entertain, and insulate, then the tube is flickering now, and we will soon see that the whole struggle is lost. This instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, it can even inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise it is merely wires and lights in a box.”

Downey’s character at one point in the movie says to Clarkson’s what if they were wrong, and that by attacking McCarthy they made the country vulnerable to its enemies. He wonders if there have to be some people sacrificed to preserve “the greater good.” She basically says what if there’s nothing "good" left? If we surrender the nation’s decency and human dignity, then we have truly lost our way. Then Murrow’s signature sign off at the end of his broadcasts fits all too well: “Good night, and good luck.”

After a holiday week off, the next film will be Nuts.