Truth
(2015)
(SPOILERS) Two notable films on the subject of journalism
were released in 2015, one concerning dogged reporters successfully exposing
the cover-up of decades of institutional wrongdoings, the other about
still-diligent reporters tripping up and having knives sharpened at the expense
of their perceived shoddy workmanship. One went on to win Best Picture Oscar,
the other received mostly tepid reviews and made only a couple of million
dollars at the box office. Truth admittedly
veers towards the tepid, truth be told, but it didn’t deserve such an unmarked interment.
I’m just not so sure there’s any conspiracy theory to be fashioned from its
failure.
The problem lies firmly at the door of writer-debut director
James Vanderbilt, who previously delivered a sterling piece of factual
screenwriting for David Fincher’s Zodiac.
His direction is unconvincing and underdeveloped, and not in the unshowy,
understated vein that worked for Tom McCarthy’s Spotlight; the results feel movie-of-the week as, sadly, does his
lead-by-the-nose writing and characterisation.
Vanderbilt adapted the memoir Truth and Duty: The Press, the President and the Privilege of Power
by Mary Mapes (played here by Cate Blanchett), the producer of CBS Dan Rather’s
60 Minutes, detailing the fallout from their 2004 investigation into and report
on Dubya’s military service, which everyone knows (I say everyone, hosts of
people still voted for him not once but twice, at least that’s what the polls
tell us) shows him to have been in dereliction of duty. He’s just that kind of guy.
If he could get away with it on account of daddy, he would. And did.
There’s more than enough juice here, and Vanderbilt has
assembled a strong cast, although Blanchett is possibly the least impressive of
the line-up, tending towards caricature when something subtler might have played
better. It doesn’t help that Vanderbilt has gone overboard in embroidering Mapes’
home life (what a good mommy she is, what a supportive husband she has), to the
point of insipidness; some of that is probably necessary, but it shouldn’t be
distracting from the story.
Redford’s great though, bringing the weight of a guy who actually
did make a classic movie about
investigative journalism, the classic
movie about investigative journalism (All
the President’s Men), even if one might conjecture conspiracy within the
uncovering of that conspiracy (as in, Woodward and Bernstein were, some posit,
the convenient players in a sanctioned ousting of Nixon). I don’t really know
Rather’s style and approach, and I’m not especially familiar with 60 Minutes, but Redford effectively portrays
a bastion of old-style, when-it-meant-something journalistic pride (not that
such an era ever really existed, but
it appeared to exist, and that’s what counts) that hearkens to the like of
Clooney’s Good Night, and Good Luck.
Indeed, Rather’s retired signoff “Courage”
sounds straight out of that era.
Both Truth and Spotlight share a very real eulogising
for the passing of prioritising the actual nuts and bolts and hard graft of the
job in the age of the Internet, and the political motivations of CBS and its
parent in firing Rather – I have little time
for the argument that it was all fair and above board – only highlight the
farce of those vouching for real news being the very ones fanning the flames of
its death; the situation now really is
to “just read out what is handed to us”).
There are problems
with the Rather presence, in as much as the likes of Topher Grace’s Mike Smith
is given to rapturous veneration of the man as the reason he entered
journalism, but because he isn’t centre stage, the character succeeds in the
main as an iconic form. Likewise, Grace’s young firebrand is good fun,
invigoratingly unpersuaded by the wheels and processes of the corporate system and
given a particularly barnstorming rant at the man firing him (David Lyons’ Josh
Howard), pointing to the political links between Viacom and George W before
being led from the building with a parting “They’re
going to screw you too, you know”. In the interests of balance, one wonders
slightly why Viacom wouldn’t have put the kibosh on the story earlier had that
been their plan, although the conspiracy view holds that the story was put out
there so doubt could be cast on it.
The doubt being the veracity of the memos purporting to
detail Bush’s military indiscretions, which despite having seemingly entered
lore as fakes, have neither been proved or disproved, as the originals have
never been provided to inspect (the font argument certainly doesn’t hold up as
a case for dismissal). Grace’s outburst leads into the best section of the
picture, ironically the last 30 minutes, as Mapes is hung out to dry by her
bosses. Maybe it’s because a courtroom, even a kangaroo courtroom, scene is
always good value, but the picture almost kindles something approaching a fire
under it at this point.
Vanderbilt is actually quite good with depicting the way factors
that became decisive on her fate were casually batted off by Mapes; it’s the
way he underlines other aspects with treacly music and characters pronouncing
how amazing they are that rankle, or clumsily introduces a brief subplot about
Mapes dad (“What about my father?”)
And, when the bottom line is voiced (“The
system is rigged. It always has been. You know that”), you’re left wishing
the whole picture had been as unflinchingly cynical. It doesn’t need bow-wrapped
gushing like “Hey, Mary. I believe you”
from her lawyer (Andrew McFarlane).
There’s fine support on hand from Dennis Quaid as a seasoned
ex-colonel on the team and Stacy Keach as the crucial witness, not enough of
Elisabeth Moss and Bruce Greenwood (but can that guy leave an impression in just
a few seconds), but Truth leaves a
general feeling of a missed opportunity. Other cases involving the press and
politics have run aground at the box office while nevertheless making good pictures
(Fair Game), but Truth is merely middling. It needed to be angry to make an impact,
but Vanderbilt directs with indifferent resignation. This is the way things are
going and there’s nothing that can be done. Probably true, but he could have
been more impassioned about it.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.