Good night, and good luck and edward r. murrow and joseph mccarthy and communism

I went to this movie to see what all the fuss was about. I had read some glowing reviews of the movie, which presents the role of CBS newsman Edward R. Murrow in the decline and fall of Senator Joseph McCarthy (R-WI), but I wanted to see for myself whether the reviews were sort of self-congratulatory pieces from a profession (print and broadcast journalism) which rarely gets an unqualifiedly positive portrayal or whether they actually were reviewing a quality film. What I saw, however, was not heartening. The film, in my judgment, is a flat, rather ahistorical, humorless, choppy, and even dull presentation of an era and people that bristled with fears, hopes and idiosyncracies which invited careful scrutiny. One has the eerie feeling througout that even as George Clooney, the Director, tries to set the context with his cinematography and character portrayal, the film has a striking sense of being without historical context or depth or any kind of human understanding. Two problems that the film struggles with are its "hit you over the head" obviousness and unskillful presentism. I will consider each in turn.

Presenting an Era (the 1950s)

I suppose there are two ways to bring another era alive. One can, on the one hand, plant subtle hints of that era throughout the film, whether it is through background scenes, music, language or styles, hints that differentiate the era from ours but, at the same time, connect us to it because we all share in the same human drama. On the other hand, a Director can hit you squarely between the eyes as if saying, "Ok, folks, now I am going to put you in a different, different era. Ready?" The difference I am envisioning is between a great movie like Chariots of Fire and the mediocre movie Good Night, and Good Luck. In the former, one is brought into upper class British society after WWI through the songs of choirs, the soaring Gothic naves of Cambridge, or the disabled porter who, for a few pence, transports the privileged boys to their new digs at the University.

In the latter, however, we have the obvious signs of the 50s--black and white cinematography, chain-smoking in almost every scene, and an uptight and repressed culture that is constantly portrayed by camera angles that always seem to focus on tight or twitching jaws. As if the "smoke-filled 50s" was not enough of a cliche, Clooney decides also to devote several seconds of the film to running an old commercial for Kent cigarettes. It simply is his way of telling the supposedly wide-eyed and ignorant movie-goer, "Now, I am going to take you back to another era. It is so, so different from the way we live today. It is so backward in so many ways. But I will never let you forget you are in a different period. Get ready. Here goes."

But then when Clooney takes us back to the 1950s, with genuine footage from HUAC and Senator McCarthy, he fails to set the context that would have explained the feelings of the period. He had a chance to characterize an era that is strikingly in need of a sympathetic or understanding portrayal for our time. We have nothing but cliches today as we think of the early 1950s--the era of bland, the stirrings of Civil Rights through the Warren Court, conformity supreme--and Clooney could have helped us immensely in trying to put a spin on that period that would have helped deepen our understanding. For example, five weeks after the McCarthy rebuttal to Murrow's March 1954 attack on him was handed down arguably the most significant US Supreme Court decision of the Century--Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, KS--and not a word was heard in the film about such a case. Well, of course, he need not have told us anything about Brown, but you get the picture. He told us nothing about anything that would allow us to feel the fear, uncertainty, longing, hope, repression or other kinds of emotions which are necessary if we are to have a sympathetic understanding of history. Thus, Good Night, and Good Luck flunks the history test.

But it flunks the test even further because it is unable even to explain the history of the McCarthy rampage and the reason why things ebbed and flowed in that era. The movie has no "thesis," other than that it was good for Murrow to stand up to McCarthy, even if the future prospects for CBS weren't rosy as a result. But no topic was presented with historical skill in the movie. We get the impression that the actors are living in their individual historical tubes, only dimly connected to each other and not at all linked to anything that might generally be called public opinion or sentiment in 1953-54.

Creeping Presentism

Covering the tasteless historical layer like an icing whose egg yokes have not fully been beaten are the unskillful references to today. To change metaphors, they jut out of the movie like dark rock formations in a volcanic lake, affording little beauty but more danger as you try to negotiate your way. It was evident to me (and I don't know how many reviewers picked up on this) that the film was more than a subtle criticism of American reactions to the period after 9/11. The grainy images of Dwight Eisenhower at the end of the movie, making a punchless speech about American uniqueness, were to my mind quite obviously inserted as a criticism of the current Administration's policy of holding, without trial and access to attorneys, hundreds of men as "enemy combatants" in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. After all, Eisenhower spoke two words in that short speech that probably clinched the case for Clooney to use it: "habeas corpus." These two words, known to every prisoner but to few others in America today, are known as the "Great Writ" in law, which affords the opportunity of every prisoner to bring suit in federal court to challenge the propriety of his/her detention. Lawyers seeking to represent the Gitmo prisoners have been using the words "habeas corpus" for the last 3 1/2 years. It appears that Clooney picked up on this and found a speech by Ike where he used the words. Yawn.

Finally, and on this same point of presentism, the portrait of Murrow as the tireless crusader against McCarthy, even when he knew that McCarthy was coming after him (indeed it was McCarthy's "data" on Murrow that forced Murrow's hand to put on the March 1954 broadcast) was a thinly veiled reference to the way the liberals have portrayed George Bush's attacks on them in the wake of 9/11. They are only seeking the truth and GW (or McCarthy) is out to get them. Actually, I believe that Clooney is relatively correct on this point; I think that there is no question but that the Bush Administration has wanted to paint its critics as disloyal people who give comfort to the enemy.

Conclusion

In the end, however, Clooney has given us a starkly unengaging and contextless piece. I am glad I went, however. The longer I live the more I believe that you learn more from poorly presented things than from well-argued materials. Now I am angry enough to want to "put the 1950s together" for myself. Had he done a really good job at it, I might have thought myself spared from the task.

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