Five 2023 Films

 SPOILER ALERT! The plots will be discussed.

I thought I would make some brief comments on five 2023 movies:

BARBIE:

Greta Gerwig’s film was a critical and very big commercial success. She was able to present a funny movie that was also heavy on theme. The opening is an enjoyable reference to 2001: A Space Odyssey, with the evolutionary progression moving away from girls playing with one-dimensional versions of dolls to the multifaceted menu of Barbies. However, as the story moves forward, those versions are shown as creations by men who are trying to cash in on women adopting various professions in the modern world.

In the real world, women are still not respected for their roles, so there is disenchantment that their lives are not living up to the ideals presented in Barbie World. This disillusionment is represented by Gloria (America Fererra). Her unhappiness affects Stereotypical Barbie (Margot Robbie), who shocks other Barbies by ruminating on death, and travels to the real world to explore the problems there.

She has a stowaway in her Barbiemobile. It’s Stereotypical Ken (Ryan Gosling). In Barbie World he is just an accessory, as are the other Ken dolls. In the real world he learns how to be macho, and he brings that attitude back to Barbie World to share with the Kens. Barbie must return to set things straight before revisiting the real world at the end.

The thrust here is that neither gender should dominate, and that women must become empowered by way of their own identity, and not by what is prescribed by men.

The film is accomplished at bringing the world of Barbie to life, and the performances hit their marks. Great last line, when Barbie says she is in an office to see her “gynecologist.”

 OPPENHEIMER:

Christopher Nolan dazzles again in this story about the scientist who created the atomic bomb. In this film, unlike some others by Nolan, it is not that difficult to follow the different timelines. The story jumps between Oppenheimer in his early years associating with the Communist movement and his early brilliance as a physicist. There is the time period when he works on the Manhattan Project developing the atomic bomb. When he refuses to continue work toward developing the even more devastating hydrogen bomb, the government persecutes him for his early association with Communism. Eventually, the film depicts his acquittal.

We discussed this film in an online forum that the Bryn Mawr Film Institute presented. I asked about how the instructors viewed Nolan’s attitude toward science in general, mentioning his films, Inception, Interstellar, and his Batman trilogy. The instructors stated that Nolan appears to view people as flawed creatures who are not equipped to handle the fallout (pun intended in this case) from their technological advances. Inception shows the psychological devastation of delving into the dreams of others. Interstellar, although optimistic in the end, shows the need to leave Earth because of how humans destroyed the environment with technology. There is the section in the Batman stories where Bruce Wayne can listen to everything that the citizens are saying, totally invading their privacy. He allows that technology to be destroyed, but the fear is there if unscrupulous individuals used that system. In Oppenheimer, the ethical question that torments the main character is if he doesn’t develop the nuclear bomb, then Hitler might dominate the world if he is not stopped. However, by developing the A-Bomb, he opens a nuclear Pandor’s Box that threatens the existence of the world.

Great performances by Cillian Murphy as Oppenheimer, and Robert Downey, Jr. as the scientist’s eventual nemesis, Lewis Strauss (both Golden Globe winners).

KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON:

The title of the movie refers to an Osage Native American ceremony that cherishes the blossoming of flowers each year. During the ritual they discover oil on their land and the tribe becomes rich. However, they are surrounded by the enemy, the white man, who cherishes the land for profit. The whites exploit the Natives by marrying into the tribe and then bringing about the deaths of the Osage community to inherit the land’s wealth. They even have some declared incompetent while living to gain control of the assets.

The Native population is somewhat to blame for being seduced by the white culture’s love of materialism. Martin Scorsese’s film suggests that the desire for oil destroys the soul of the people who were its initial residents and pollutes the land with whom the Osage people were joined. One image that backs up this theme is when the natives have visions of their ancestors, they are covered in the dark liquid coming from the gushing oil, suggesting a blackening of their souls.

The film is very much about being in denial. The best example in Leonardo DiCaprio’s character, Ernest Burkhart (The “Earnest” name comes off as ironic, since he deceives his wife and himself). He comes to Oklahoma seeking financial help from his uncle, William Hale (Robert De Niro), who is a deputy sheriff and big landowner. On the surface he appears as a benefactor to the Osage community, but appearances are deceiving in this film, and he orchestrates the deaths of Osage natives for the personal gain of the whites. Ernest marries Mollie (Lily Gladstone, Golden Globe winner for her role), and fools himself into thinking he is helping her treat her diabetes when he is actually poisoning her. Mollie herself also deludes herself by not seeing how the man she believes she loves is attempting to do away with her. She finally comes to her senses after personal losses and is strong enough to get the Federal Government to investigate the many killings of Osage natives. The self-denial is general here, as the white people act as if they are helping the Native Americans while actually ruining their way of life.

Scorsese employs the camera to good effect when he places it at ground level and makes the audience feel as if it is a character walking with the film’s characters in rooms in houses. There is a smart image of Ernest swatting flies on two occasions. It brings to mind Beelzebub, the “Lord of the Flies,” and generally acts as a symbol for decay and corruption.

We discussed this film in a Zoom class. One instructor thought, given the length, that there should have been more of the story told from the Native American perspective. It seems a valid observation. This movie, and exceptional films such as Dances with Wolves and Little Big Man, tell the stories from the perspective of the white man, and not from that of the Native American.

 MAESTRO:

Bradley Cooper does it all here, writing, directing, and starring in this biopic about musical conductor/composer Leonard Bernstein, who composed the music for West Side Story. The movie is stylized, as it moves at the beginning from one location to another without breaks, which stresses the artistry of the filmmaking and thus can be distancing for the audience to invest emotionally. There is not a great deal of background information about Bernstein’s early life. Some may find the lack of exposition admirable while others may again find it difficult to understand the main character’s passion for music. But that passion is undeniable, and Cooper is submerged in the character, energetically demonstrating his conducting ability. Along with the makeup, Cooper inhabits Bernstein, and it is a virtuoso performance. I did, however, find his voice distracting, since he constantly sounded like he was suffering from a cold.

The film focuses on his marriage, and the conflict between his love for his wife and his homosexual orientation, and the homophobia of the time period. Carey Mulligan plays the spouse, Felicia, and she shows her love for and frustration with her husband. She displays emotional depth as she battles the cancer that ends her life.

 THE HOLDOVERS:

While the above films stress moviemaking artistry and theme, this film by Alexander Payne is very much about character. Paul Giamatti reunites with Payne after previously starring in Sideways. He is Paul Hunham, a sarcastic ancient history teacher at a boys’ boarding school who bemoans the lack of educational accomplishment of the privileged students who attend the school by way of their affluent parents. There is a School Ties and Dead Poets Society feel as to the locale of the story.

Hunham is stuck with having to babysit a few of the students over the Christmas holiday period because the boys’ parents are otherwise engaged. One of the fathers eventually arrives, literally as a helicopter parent, and whisks all but one student to a ski getaway after the child emotionally blackmails the patriarch. The one remaining boy, Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa, in a wonderful performance) has shown his anguish about the demise of his parents’ marriage.

The story is set during the beginning of the Vietnam War, and the cafeteria worker, Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), has lost a son who was a student at the school. She took advantage of her employment to allow her boy to attend. There is a definite class antagonism here as Hunham’s background is more in tune with the workers at the school.

There is a great deal of witty and insightful dialogue in the movie. Hunham’s pessimistic attitude is shown when he says, “Life is like a henhouse ladder: shitty and short.” He tells Tully at one point the need for learning about history when he says, “history is not simply the study of the past. It is an explanation of the present.”

As the film progresses, secrets about the lives of both Hunham and Tully come to the surface, and they find that there is more to each of them than appears on the surface. This film says that you don’t understand people until you take the time to really get to know them. Preconceived stereotypes don’t always conveniently fit into one’s world view.

Both Giamatti and Randolph deserved their Golden Globe wins.

The next film to be analyzed is Badlands.

Wonder Boys

SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching Wonder Boys (2000) you should treat yourself by viewing this clever story directed by Curtis Hanson, who made the excellent LA Confidential. The writing is marvelous and both Michael Douglas and Tobey Maguire should have received Oscar nominations.

Besides referring to those who succeed in art at an early age, the title could refer to artists, and in this case writers, who use their imaginations to create as they “wonder” about what they observe. Great artists do not copy reality, but instead enhance upon it. But, observing and not participating often makes artists outsiders. They can become dysfunctional in some ways, not being able to deal with day-to-day life. This story deals with authors, and good writing requires tough choices if it is serious, and should not be self-indulgent. However, sometimes the self-absorption of authors can lead to inflated egos and pretentiousness.

Appropriately for a story about writing, Douglas’s Professor Grady Tripp (the last name referring to his drug use, or taking a vacation from life?) is reading stories written by his college creative writing workshop students. The voice-over is effective here because the words are so well crafted, based on the acclaimed Michael Chabon novel, and provide insight into characters. Tripp is reading from a story by one of his best students, James Leer (Maguire), who Tripp describes as being the “sole inhabitant of his own gloomy gulag,” emphasizing the young man’s outsider existence, and the unhappiness that seems to be reflected in his work. His comment also pertains to the feeling of failure that plagues serious writers who are never satisfied with their own compositions. There is a lot of rain and cold weather in the movie, suggesting the inclement life of Tripp and his fellow travelers during the course of the story. The professor says he was distracted since his wife left him that morning, but “Wives had left me before,” he says, indicating his past problems with relationships.

Hannah Green (Katie Holmes) is a talented writer, “insightful, kind” and always wears red cowboy boots, so there is an element of attraction here in Tripp’s observation, as we learn that he has been involved with younger, beautiful women. She rents a room in the professor’s house. The other students are nasty in their criticisms of James’s work, probably envious that they can’t write as well as he does. Hannah comments that James has the courage to “forget us,” that is, not worry about how his work does not cater to the audience. Tripp reminds his students that the college’s WordFest (which sounds like a literary Renaissance fair) is to occur that weekend. The professor worries about James being so morose. Hannah, though young, is almost maternal, as she is concerned about Tripp’s state of mind following the breakup of his marriage.

Tripp says that he feels good being able to be alone and clear his head while driving following the workshop. But, he smokes a joint, not something one does to get unfogged. He uses drugs the way he uses his writing, as an escape from the pressures of reality. There is also a bit of self-destructiveness added to the recipe of what makes someone a writer, since he is driving under the influence, and death is the ultimate escape.

Terry Crabtree (Robert Downey, Jr.), Tripp’s editor, flies in for WordFest, and was influential in getting Tripp’s last novel, Arsonist’s Daughter, published. The work was a critical success and brought both of them praise. That was seven years prior, and Tripp has not followed up with another completed book. The lack of recent successes finds both Tripp and his editor suffering from damage to their current reputations. Crabtree is there to check out the status of Tripp’s next novel. Crabtree, who we learn is gay, signaling him out as an outsider at the time the movie was released, arrives with another social outcast, a transvestite, calling themselves Antonia Sloviak (Michael Cavadias). Tripp makes it sound as if he has almost completed his new book, but his evasiveness about its progress undermines his reassurances.

The start of the WordFest weekend begins at Sara and Walter Gaskell’s house. He (Richard Thomas) is the English Department Chairperson, Tripp’s boss, and she (Frances McDormand) is the college Chancellor who also happens to be Tripp’s lover. Walter’s dog is named Poe, befitting an English Department head. Poe always growls, appropriately like a creature from a gothic tale, at Tripp, probably sensing he is a threat to the married couple’s domestic bliss. The dog is blind so just smelling Tripp keeps him barking in the vicinity of the professor’s scent. Sara (McDormand) and Tripp go upstairs and she immediately informs him that she is pregnant. Sara provides a “simple” solution to their situation: since Trip’s wife has left and the two of them are involved, they should get divorced, marry, and raise the baby. He repeats the word “simple” with less than enthusiasm, showing how for him making a decision to commit to Sara is complicated.

Walter does not know about his wife’s infidelity or pregnancy. His Harvard education has not provided him with more insight than his visionless dog, who Tripp says knew about him and Sara “from day one.” Walter is obsessed with baseball great Joe DiMaggio and his wife, Marilyn Monroe, and collects memorabilia concerning them. Walter says that every woman wants to be Marilyn Monroe, and Antonia, the transvestite, agrees, but she is also a he, so some men might want to be Monroe, too. This movie presents various sexual lifestyles undermining Walter's rigid theories of masculinity, represented by the bat swinging DiMaggio, and femininity, in the person of sex symbol, Monroe.

Tripp sees Q (Rip Torn), a writer who is rich and famous, and completes a novel every eighteen months. For those reasons, Tripp dislikes him, as many struggling writers probably despise James Patterson, who cranks them out quicker than that, with help, of course. Q (revealing his arrogance by allowing himself to take sole possession of a letter of the alphabet and assuming everyone will know it pertains to him) is talking with Hannah. Tripp shows his envy by trying to undermine their conversation to make a materialistic derogatory crack about Q’s expensive house in the Hamptons. He also lets Q know that Hannah had two stories published in the prestigious Paris Review literary magazine, implying she is probably a better writer than he is. Another professor compliments Tripp by saying he has placed Arsonist’s Daughter on his syllabus for three years. But, as Tripp walks away, he hears the professor’s female companion comment how it’s been a long time since that novel came out. The scene suggests that even if a writer produces a great piece of work, the public just wants more, and if it’s not forthcoming, the author is labeled a has-been. This attitude is the reader’s and critic’s version of “what have you done for me lately?”

Tripp goes outside to continue his escapism with his pot smoking. James is standing on the lawn with a small handgun. He immediately makes up an elaborate story about how it isn’t real, and was acquired by his mother at a penny arcade in Baltimore during the time she was in Catholic school. Tripp says, “that’s convincing,” sort of sarcastically acknowledging the quality of the fiction. James says the pistol is like a lucky rabbit’s foot. Tripp highlights James’s oddness by pointing out the strange preference for a gun instead of a rabbit’s foot. James says Hannah invited him to the Gaskell’s place, but says he isn’t supposed to be there, the statement sort of summing up his life. He and Hannah like old films and saw one with Frances Farmer and Gene Tierney, both of whom, Tripp and James note, eventually went insane, apparently pointing out how artistic types aren’t “normal” and prone to mental illness. Tripp shows his affinity with James’s peculiar ways by agreeing with him that the movie sounds like a good one. James then says that Tripp isn’t like his other teachers, and Tripp comments that James is not like his other students. So they recognize how they are, in their own ways, not swimming in society’s mainstream. Tripp apologizes that he didn’t cut off the criticism of James’s story in the writing workshop sooner. James notes that the students hated the latest story more than the others, meaning he has been getting continuous rejection because he isn’t following accepted norms. He says it doesn’t matter, because it only took him an hour to create the story. Tripp is astonished at the quality of the writing produced in so short a time, acknowledging James’s talent. He asks James if he’s cold and wants to go inside. James says it’s colder there, and Tripp agrees, as they goth get no warm reception from others due to their nonconformist ways. James was attracted to the property’s greenhouse because it looked like the depiction of heaven he saw in a movie, with people living in places that were made of glass with light shining through them. A film is a work of art and James finds refuge in something imaginative that takes him away from the harshness of real life.

Tripp convinces James to stay. They go inside, and Crabtree has his “gaydar” on. He seems immediately interested in James, who he quickly perceives not to be straight. Hannah, who was involved in a conversation about films, mentions that James would probably know about actor George Sanders’s suicide. Again we have a reference to an artistic person seeking escape for not fitting into the world around him. James, an expert on old movies and misfits, knows that Sanders died from an overdose of pills, and states the exact day and place. Hannah says that James “knows all the movie suicides,” humorously anointing him as the info king of Hollywood’s tragic social dropouts. James then lists a slew of deaths, most of them by pills, with the occasional self-inflicted gunshot wound. Crabtree is intrigued, and wants James to accompany him and Tripp after leaving the party, comically calling it a “field trip” (a pun on the professor’s name) sponsored by a faculty member.

Tripp takes James secretly upstairs, opens up Walter's safe (knowing the combination - 5641 - which IMDb points out represents the number of consecutive games DiMaggio had a hit, and the year in which the record was established), and shows James the fur-collared jacket worn by Marilyn Monroe on the day of her wedding to DiMaggio. (Monroe did have such a jacket). James, like Antonia, shows a female admiration for the garment. Movie stars like Monroe, and the motion pictures they acted in, provide a fiction that offers an escape from otherwise unfulfilling lives. Monroe’s death, however, was another example of an unhappy artist’s life ending in an early tragic death. Unfortunately, James seems to have a strong connection to the destiny of these once happy actors who eventually no longer fit in among the living. Since Tripp says Walter doesn’t tell Sara how much his collected items cost and the fact that Tripp knows the lock combination, allows James to deduce that Tripp has a relationship with the Chancellor. Hannah also mentioned to James that Tripp’s wife left him that day, so James now knows that there is no happiness in these marriages. James looks dejected, and says that the Monroe jacket, without its owner, looks lonely there, and he shares that sadness derived from his traveling a solo path. Tripp admits to being lonely, too, so they have that in common, also.

For animal lovers like myself, we just have to remember that the dark comedy surrounding Poe’s fate is just pretend. The dog shows up smelling his nemesis and attacks Tripp, sinking his teeth into his leg. James, whose gun is quite real, puts the dog down. They have to do something with the canine corpse so they wrap it up and put it in Tripp’s car. Poe’s body seems to stick around with Tripp for quite a while, sort of haunting him as a reminder of his messy, unresolved situation with Sara. Tripp comically says that he would take the blame for the dog because unlike James, he has tenure. While putting Poe in the trunk, James notes how much storage there is as it holds a suitcase, garment bag, Antonia’s tuba, and a dog’s body. Tripp adds more humor by saying “That’s just what they used to say in the ads.” Tripp finds some pain medication in Crabtree’s bag to relieve his throbbing leg. He had offered James weed before and now asks if he would like some of the painkillers. James declines both times, saying how he wants to feel in control. Probably feeling judged, Tripp, sarcastically noting how the unpredictable James goes around with a loaded gun, comments, “You’re fine. Yeah, you’re just fit as a fucking fiddle.” He then apologizes, but James now defiantly takes the pill followed by a swig of booze.

The two go to the WordFest auditorium gathering where Q is the keynote speaker. Q starts out by looking penetratingly at the audience and saying in a somber voice, “I … am a writer.” Tripp looks at James, with an “are you kidding me” look referring to the pretentious pronouncement. Q goes on with an exaggerated metaphor about the writing process by saying, “What is the bridge from the water’s edge of inspiration to the far shore of accomplishment?” James, his inhibitions lessened by the consumed intoxicants, laughs out loud, interrupting the speech. It’s the kind of moment people may relish because they would like to do the same when faced with a person so full of himself.

Tripp sees Sara and that glimpse reminding him of his situation, along with the drugs, makes him feel faint. He wanders out into the hallway, swoons, and then passes out. He comes to on the floor with Sara above him as she reveals that he has “had another one,” of his episodes, his subconscious way of not dealing with his problems. He is ready to tell her about Poe, but she assumes that instead he will say that he still loves his wife, who is young and beautiful, and will stick with her. He doesn’t give her the right answer when he reminds her that his wife left him, so it’s not up to Tripp about how to fix his marriage. What she wants to hear is that he loves Sara. She then starts to smoke a cigarette and says she won’t have the baby. He takes the cigarette out of her mouth, an act of caring paternity. She asks what else can she do? Since he seems to agree that he doesn’t know what can be done, she becomes angry, because he can solve the problem by being with her. She discovers the gun that Tripp took, and he then becomes part of James’s fiction, saying that it is a cap gun, “a souvenir from Baltimore.” She is grounded enough in reality to not be fooled by the story.

Crabtree helps carry out the doped-up James, who converts his disappointing real life into a story, talking in the third person, saying, “It was so embarrassing. They had to carry him out.” Tripp asks Crabtree how James is doing, and Crabtree provides another of the film’s many great lines, saying, “He’s fine. He’s narrating,” which reflects James’s comfort zone. Antonia, who hoped to hook up with Crabtree, is disappointed as he now is focusing on James. Tripp gives “Tony,” which is what they are calling themselves now, having to accommodate the locals with an acceptable male identity, a ride back home. (IMDb notes that “Tony” may be a reference to the cross-dressing character played by Tony Curtis in the film Some Like it Hot, which also starred Marilyn Monroe). Tony tells Tripp that Crabtree is worried about getting fired due to not having any successes in years, and is pinning his hopes on Tripp’s work-in-progress book. Tony says Crabtree said that Tripp wasn’t “one of those writers who has a success and then freezes up and never has another.” Tripp looks into the rearview mirror as Tony talks, and his reflection shows that he worries that he may be one of those failures. He says that he may have to rescue James, but Tony astutely says Tripp may need some rescuing himself, which may be necessary because of the trap he has put himself in.

Tripp goes to the bar where he asked James to visit with him and Crabtree. His editor is there with James. Q is dancing with Hannah, and Tripp is probably a little jealous. James appears to be asleep sitting up in a booth. The editor, noting James’s condition, observes that Tripp made a raid on the “Crabtree pharmacopoeia,” the invented word implying he must have a lot of drugs in his stash. James admitted to Crabtree that he has a book, which Tripp knew about, but he didn’t know, as Crabtree informs him, that James finished it already. Crabtree asks if James is a good writer, and Tripp says not yet, as he tries to keep the editor, who is hungry for a comeback, from pouncing literally, and figuratively on James. Crabtree is sure the young man is gay, and does not agree with Tripp’s view that investigating James’s “sexual confusion,” as Tripp puts it, will add to his problems. Crabtree believes the youth needs to find clarity.

A pregnant waitress with the unusual name of Oola (Jane Adams) serves them their drinks. Things that are different intrigue these outsider types. They see a fellow that looks a bit like James Brown, with a pompadour hairstyle. Tripp and Crabtree play a game they have enjoyed in the past by improvising stories about those they observe, which is what fiction writers do, using real life as an inspiration to entertain and maybe comment on the human condition (which is what Q was trying to say, only badly). They give the guy the amusing name of Vernon Hardapple (Richard Knox), and he happens to be Oola’s love interest. Throughout the movie they keep calling him Vernon, unable to disconnect themselves from the fantasy world they have created. They make up a whole backstory about the man, but get stuck, and the supposedly unconscious James rescues them by adding to the scenario, talking about Vernon’s involvement with a gangster called Freddy Nostrils (a great name, just the right amount of exaggeration of what a mobster might be nicknamed).

Hannah dances with Tripp and says she is re-reading his famous novel, and talks about how beautiful it is. She says he wrote something about her in her copy of the book, and seems to be coming onto him by saying that she isn’t as innocent as he thinks she is. He is torn, being attracted to her but saying the world needs those who haven’t been corrupted by others, including, supposedly, himself. Tripp tells Hannah to take James home, but since the young man makes up everything, she has no idea where he lives. He tells her to take him to Tripp’s place to sleep it off. Tripp offers Q and Crabtree a lift, making sure they don’t see the deceased dog in the trunk. “Vernon” appears and says that Tripp stole his car. He makes a scene, with Crabtree humorously saying to Tripp, “Do you owe him a book, too?” There is a comic driving sequence with Tripp going the wrong way on a one-way street (an image stressing Tripp’s nonconformity), and ending with Vernon registering his complaint by leaving his butt impression on the car’s hood by jumping on it. He then exits with a theatrical bow (another nod to artistic expression). Q speaks for all of us when he says, “What the hell was that?”

James, although in and out of consciousness, pleads for his backpack. It was left at the college hall where WordFest took place. The janitor, Sam Traxler (Alan Tudyk, who you will recognize if you are a fan of Joss Whedon’s work) lets him in, and says he knows he’s there for the backpack because there is a manuscript in it, which Traxler probably believes belongs to Tripp. It is actually James’s novel, entitled The Love Parade. The impatient Crabtree drove off with Q, and Traxler gives Tripp a ride. There is also a biography of Errol Flynn in the backpack (another movie reference), and, assuming Tripp is reading it, Traxler asks if the story is true that the actor put paprika on his penis to make sex more stimulating for women. Everyone apparently loves an exotic story in which to escape, and Tripp, a spinner of tales, has fun going along with the story, saying how Flynn “used to rub all sorts of things on it. Salad dressing, ground lamb.”

As they pass by Sara in her greenhouse, the one that looks like heaven to James, an unearthly sanctuary far removed from life on earth, Tripp says in a voice-over that he loved that Sara was addicted to the printed word, and he manufactured “her drug of choice.”  This line is witty, but also fits in with the film’s theme of how those who feel the need to get away from everyday existence seek it through various means. Tripp arrives at his house and discovers that James stuffed the Marilyn Monroe jacket in his backpack. He probably wanted to hold onto his idea of a happy fantasy represented by the movie star, and thought he was rescuing it from what he labeled its loneliness in the closet. He projected his own state of mind onto the jacket, and its removal may even symbolize his own need to get out of the “closet” as a gay man.

Tripp wakes up the next morning and finds his car has returned. Crabtree is in bed with James. He says in the voice-over that he had to put everything aside and work on his book, probably feeling guilty after encountering the prolific Q and learning that James finished his work. He says that it started out as a small novel but ballooned to the point that he is now on page 2611. He says that the ending kept “getting further away.” He says that he knew the ending was out there and he “could see it,” but he then starts to feel a fainting spell coming on. It’s as if he doesn’t want to finish the book, because he is afraid it will be a failure once it is given to others. The inability to complete his work is symbolic of how he can’t cope with the problems in his life, and when he tries to deal with either the ending of his story or his relationship issues, he passes out as one of his forms of escape.

He wakes up looking at James who says he put him on the floor. Tripp is wearing what looks like a woman’s robe, so James says he must really miss Emily, his wife. He says the clothing does not belong to her. He just likes writing in it. The clothing here reminds us of Antonia and it may be another example of the transvestite theme that shows nonconformity. But, these instances of wanting to dress up as someone else also furthers the story’s theme about the desire to enter another make-believe world. James, always seeking a tale, says “there’s probably a story behind that.” Tripp says there is, “but it’s not very interesting,” which is a way of saying he doesn’t want to talk about it. James sees Tripp’s mammoth manuscript and Tripp confirms that it is single-spaced, making it an oversized load of a book. Since it was a while since his last novel, James says some of his fellow students thought Tripp was “blocked.” Tripp says he doesn’t believe in writer’s block. James, stating the obvious, says, “No kidding.” It’s not Tripp’s writing that is blocked, it’s his life.

James gets a phone call from an anonymous man asking if Tripp lived there and wanted to know about his car. Tripp most likely realizes it was “Vernon” calling. A police car arrives and Tripp tells James to hide. The cop says that the Gaskell’s dog is missing as well as an item from the safe. Tripp pretends he doesn’t know anything about it, and evades questions about James, acting like a father wanting to protect his wayward child.

Tripp wants to visit his ex-wife and takes James with him. His leg is hurting, and then Tripp slips on the steps outside, injuring his hand. The problems of his reality are taking hold of him, like the way Poe clamped down on his leg. While at the store to buy some band aids, Tripp asks where James lives. Typically, James creates another story. He says he was kicked out of his apartment. Tripp, echoing James, says there must be a story there, and James repeats Tripp’s earlier evasion by saying, “There is, but it’s not very interesting.” He hesitates as he adds to his fiction, saying he now stays at the bus station, where he knows the janitor who allows him to put his stuff in a broken locker. He’s been there for a couple of weeks and had the gun for protection. His words have a similar feel to the improvisation about Freddy Nostrils. In a voice-over, Tripp reveals that he knows James is making it all up, saying his “story was the stuff of bad fiction.” But, Tripp is too preoccupied to seek out “where the page ended with him and real life began,” which is what the film seeks to explore about all of its characters (who are totally fictional, because, you know, it’s a movie). 

On a detour to visit Sara, James, the former sober individual, no longer wanting a life anchored by control, smokes Tripp’s marijuana that he keeps in his glove compartment. Tripp buys a pathetic peace offering in the form of a “Thinking of You” inscribed balloon for Sara. He says to her that he needs to talk with her, but again can’t deal with the reality of the relationship. He says he wants to be with her, but that doesn’t mean he plans on doing so. She tells him it’s not enough to want them to be together, which only has the intangible substance of a desire. She also says she hasn’t made up her mind about having the baby, or about him. She is forcing him to find his own way here since his commitment is required given the importance of the situation. He must find his own way, driven by what he wants, and says she isn’t going to draw him a map, because “Times like these, you have to do your own navigating.” She notices James in Tripp’s car, and asks what he’s doing with Tripp. He says he, who can’t seem to resolve his own problems, is helping James work through some issues. Sara drives the irony home by saying of James, “Isn’t he lucky.”

Back in the car, James weaves another tale, although Tripp doesn’t realize it at the time. James says his dad, who lives in Carvel, Pennsylvania, outside of Scranton, needs pot for his colon cancer. He says the town is a “hellhole,” consisting of “three hotels and a mannequin factory,” where his dad worked at for thirty-five years, and where he met his mother, who was a fry cook who became an exotic dancer. The strangeness of this story illustrates how much James enjoys soaring with his flights of fancy. Tripp reminds James that he said his mother went to Catholic school, to which he comically recovers with, “When we fall, we fall hard.”

Tripp had said that “the moment didn’t present itself,” so Tripp hadn’t told Sara about the jacket and the dog. Now, as James smokes a joint, Tripp reminds James that he said he didn’t want to get high because he wanted control over his emotions. James repeats Tripp’s words for his own purposes again, and will in the future, by saying his use of intoxicants just needed “the moment to present itself.”

They wind up at Emily’s house, and Tripp says he thinks he’s there to end things with his wife on the right note, but he’s not sure, because he is afraid of how life’s stories will turn out (as opposed to fictional ones). James explores the home’s alcohol opportunities as well as sweets to satisfy his sugar-driven pot high. He tunes on the TV and watches a part of an old movie (it’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, which is appropriate since that story deals with art and the ugliness of life, and stars George Sanders, one of the actors James mentioned committed suicide, a sort of escape artist one might say). Sanders’s character says we should “give form to every feeling, reality to every dream.” This speech about self-fulfillment preaches giving substance to hopes, not residing in a pretend world of just possibilities, as some of the main characters here seem to want to do. James changes the channel, enjoying, appropriately, the unreality of Judy Garland singing in a musical. Mickey Rooney in the movie says something about how it must be terrible to be a “has-been,” and this line resonates with Tripp’s fearful feelings about his writing career and how failure may cause him to crash-land, grounding him so he can’t fly above the debris of his life.

In Emily’s bedroom, even though he says that Emily’s house feels good, like a place to wake up to on Christmas, Tripp admits to himself that he didn’t really know his child-bride. It’s only when he woke up and left this make-believe dream existence to be with Sara, a more mature woman representing true life, did he feel at home. He calls Sara, but when he admits to being at Emily’s house, she misunderstands the purpose of the call, and tells him she can’t wait for him trying to figure out if he wants to reconcile with Emily. Emily’s parents arrive at the house, and the father (Philip Bosco), after helping to take care of Tripp’s leg, tells him that Emily didn’t feel like he was there for her, which is pretty obvious since he doesn’t seem to have been there for anyone, until James’s needs “presented” themselves.

In the car, James muses about how the students hate him, and Tripp tells him it’s because he is a vastly superior writer than any of them. But, he also says that it doesn’t matter what others say about his writing because, in Tripp’s dejected state, he says that writing doesn’t mean anything anymore. But, James says that Tripp’s novel meant something to him. It was why he came to study with Tripp, and why he wanted to be a writer himself. Given the shambles of his life, Tripp says for that, “you have my eternal apologies.”

When they stop at a diner, Tripp asks a telephone operator about Carvel, Pennsylvania. But, there is no listing for it, and when Tripp says he’s not just making this up as he goes along, he realizes that is what James is doing. He eventually is able to contact James’s parents who show up, dressed well, and say that it was okay, the party they were going to was on the way. They don’t act parental since they seem not to understand when Tripp says James would probably like to be with his family. Back in the diner, James wants to stay with Tripp. He says that the couple are his grandparents who have taken care of him since his parents died, and they keep him in the basement. Tripp then, appropriately, adds melodramatic Edgar Allan Poe touches to James’s story, embellishing James’s narrative. James says they treat him like a freak. Tripp says that is what he is, and “welcome to the club,” because they both are, asking James to acknowledge his outsider citizenship. James says that his parents don’t know who he is, but Tripp says he doesn’t either, since he hasn’t said anything truthful to him. James says that he just wanted to spend time with Tripp, who coldly seems to have had enough of his student, and says, “I’m a teacher. I’m not a Holiday Inn.”

Unfortunately, (or maybe on purpose?) James left his backpack with Tripp. Parked, Tripp reads James’s manuscript. He returns home but while he was gone there has been a student party at his house with Crabtree in attendance. Hannah found Tripp’s book, and started to read it. Tripp tells Crabtree that he read James’s book and says it’s very good because, “it’s true.” Even though the artist may want to remove himself or herself from life, if the work speaks honestly to the reader, it reaches the level of human truth. Tripp admits that he called James’s parents not for what was best for the young man but for himself, to get rid of him. Hannah finds James’s address in the phone book, and Crabtree wants he and Tripp to go and liberate James.

On the way, Tripp, starting to confront reality, gets Crabtree to face the truth that his job is at risk, and the editor reveals that his bosses act like he doesn’t even work there anymore. At James’s house, they hear a typewriter and Rodgers and Hart music emanating from the finished basement, confirming James’s location. As James goes to get changed, Crabtree sees that the young man has been writing about Tripp, describing the physical pain concerning his leg. James typed, after what Tripp had told him about the futility of writing, “that his hero’s true injuries lay in a darker place.” James was writing about Tripp’s wounded creative soul not being able to truly realize itself, as James has been able to do. James went on to write Tripp’s character not only could not inspire others, it was not able to inspire itself. This sad portrait of himself adds to Tripp’s feelings of failure. To make sure that James won’t be found missing, Tripp gets the bizarre idea, worthy of a true social outsider, of placing Poe in the bed covered by blankets.

They get back to Tripp’s place, and Crabtree and James wind up in a bedroom. Tripp finally has the guts to call and confess his love for Sara to Walter. The next day, Sara shows up and says that one of their students is missing, and a dead dog was found in his bed. Tripp admits that it’s his fault. Sara asks where is the Marilyn jacket. Tripp left it in his car, which is now missing. She says that the authorities are now involved, and the “puberty police,” as Tripp call the young cop, shows up at that moment. Tripp goes upstairs to advise the two men that the cops have arrived. They are in bed with Crabtree reading James’s book. James says that Tripp looks terrible, who says everything’s fine. James throws back his own words, saying sure, Tripp’s “fit as a fuckin’ fiddle.” As James walks out of the room, Crabtree says he’s going to publish James’s book, saying with editing it could be brilliant. Tripp then makes a perfect literary allusion, saying that with the police there, James could be the next “Jean Genet. Been a long time since somebody wrote a really good book in jail.” (Genet was a gay writer who was imprisoned). In the pervasive pouring rain the police take away James, but he tells Tripp that even if he is expelled, he was the best teacher he ever had. Sara makes a joke about wondering if this is what they meant when the college promised a “liberal education.” After questioning, he admits that he called during the night and said he loved her. Sara told her husband it “didn’t sound like” Tripp, which is understandable, given his wishy-washy behavior up to this point about his dedication to Sara.

Tripp knows he has to get the jacket back, and needs to borrow Hannah’s car to do so. She tells him, after reading a lot of his book, that although containing “beautiful” language, it is too detailed. She reminds him that as a writer he says that one has to make choices, (that is, as to what to change and delete), and he hasn’t made any choices at all, and her statement points to his problem with his non-writing life, too. She suggests that he should not write so much “under the influence,” which also addresses his desire to not face life’s responsibilities.

In Hannah’s car, Tripp reads his weighty manuscript while Crabtree drives. Tripp says his car was given to him as collateral by someone who owed him money. Tripp now realizes that it really belongs to “Vernon,” and they must find him. They go to the bar where they saw “Vernon” before, and the car is there. But, the jacket is missing. In his difficulty with dealing with this new complication, Tripp has one of his “episodes” after looking at James’s gun that remained in Tripp’s car. When he comes to, there is the waitress Oola wearing the jacket. “Vernon” has a gun drawn because Tripp has one in his hand, which he accidentally discharges. Crabtree, panicking, tries to drive Hannah’s car over, lets the door fly open, and all of Tripp’s manuscript flies out.

The next scene has “Vernon” and Oola driving Crabtree and Tripp. He says the wind-blown manuscript was the only copy. Crabtree suggests that maybe it was for the best, that Tripp’s subconscious was letting go of the work that wasn’t working. When Oola asks him what the story was about, Tripp admits sadly, “I don’t know.” Vernon says if he didn’t know what it was about, why was he writing it? A good question, and Tripp’s pathetic response is that he couldn’t stop, the sort of answer an addict might give. Tripp asks whether their child is a boy or a girl, and “Vernon” says as long as it looks like Oola, “I really don’t care.” Tripp is presented with a couple about to have a child, like he and Sara, but unlike his situation, Vernon and Oola do not question their love for each other, and their desire to be together. They know their place in the world. Tripp repeats James’s words this time about Marilyn Monroe having small shoulders, just like Oola’s. He lets her keep the jacket, because her dream in life has come true (as was advocated by the character in the movie James was watching). She was not escaping into a delusion but instead she was making her wishes manifest themselves in reality.

Tripp seems to have come to a realization about the purpose of his life. He tells Crabtree that one can’t make someone a writer. A teacher, which is what he is, can only encourage someone to find his or her own voice and keep trying. He says that “it does help if you know where you wanna’ go.” Helping his students “figure that out,” along with Sara in his life, has kept him going. He tells Crabtree to improvise and try to get James off the hook.

At WordFest’s closing ceremony, Crabtree has made it known that his company will be publishing James’s novel. Tripp is there to cheer his student on, calling him a “Wonder Boy,” which reminds one of the carving on Roy Hobbs’s bat, and identifies James as a “Natural” when it comes to good writing. When James sees Tripp, who urges him to take a bow, James performs a dramatic one (reminding us of “Vernon”), and smiles. Crabtree makes a deal to prevent James from incurring disciplinary action by promising to publish Walter’s book about DiMaggio and Monroe.

Tripp goes looking for Sara. He takes the weed out of his pocket and drops it down the atrium to Traxler, liberating himself of the crutch. He starts to swoon, but we then hear him speaking, and we realize that the voice-over we have been listening to was Tripp writing the story, which is the movie we are watching. He says he lost his wife and his job, but now, like his students, he knows where he’s going and he has someone to help him along that road. Sara drives up to their place with their child. He looks all cleaned up, and types on a laptop. He is now able to save his writing, like he has saved his life.

The next film is Moneyball.

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.