With
forms of government such as fascism, totalitarianism, anarchism, and Bieber-ism
(that last one, of course, isn’t real, but given his number of followers, you would
think it is), I can’t quite call communism the worst form of government ever.
Don’t get me wrong, though. I don’t support it, what with its shady politics,
lackadaisical economy, and lack of free speech. Its idea of equality for all is
admirable, but it doesn’t work. Human nature would never allow it. Some possess
a level of superiority that ranges from low to high. Others are cankerous
racists. Communism is a method of manipulation. The government, while claiming
to be about peace and parity, possesses a large amount of power and the power
can, and has, been abused. Just read Animal Farm and you’ll see how it
works.
Nevertheless,
communism, while not extinct, had gone by the wayside, in terms of an igniter
for relevant discussion. I’m sure there are people from the New Age who don’t
see communism as a big deal; as just some failed form of government created by
some “Santa Claus-looking dude.” I couldn’t exactly blame them for thinking
that, seeing how we live in a free, capitalist nation. While there are
certainly some remaining communist nations, we are not one of them. America,
F*** Yeah!
But
during the late 40s up until 1989, there was a huge communism uproar. The U.S.
and the Soviet Union were at each other throats, the Vietnam War began, and an
intense heaping of paranoia was felt via the Cold War. Hell, even when the fall
of Berlin Wall occurred, David Hasselhoff sung at this magnificent event. It
was very dark times. Anyway, back to the Cold War paranoia. When you hear this
phrase, you most likely think of one man: Joseph McCarthy, the focal point for
George Clooney’s 2005 directorial work, Good Night and Good Luck.
McCarthy,
for the uninformed, was a senator who believed that Communists had infiltrated
the government. Because of his absurd and invalid theory, he began an extreme
process of redbaiting, accusing many people of being a Communist. The film
isn’t a biopic of his life and beliefs, as I may’ve led you to believe. The
film’s protagonist is, rather, Edward R. Murrow, a CBS television news anchor,
angered by McCarthy’s actions. In a time where news reporters did merely news
reporting, Murrow took to television and cut right to the point: McCarthy was
wrong. Clearly, without him, we would never have the other biased, overly
opinionated properties that preside our country today (FOX News, MSNBC, might
as well throw in Perez Hilton’s blog).
For
a film about such a groundbreaking, influential, non-conformist paired up with
such uneasy subject matter, it is not a grand diatribe of McCarthyism that one
would expect. The film is not a brazen, subversive piece of work. Its tone is
blunt, but casual. It doesn’t even rely heavily of music. But why would you,
seeing how the smoothly scathing dialogue is music to my ears? I’m sure
some might oppose to its autopilot, dialogue-oriented structure of the film,
but I appreciated it. The film is about thought, not action. It keeps the
intelligence, but spares the emotion. This works, because it is a subtle film.
George
Clooney, who also co-wrote the film, and Robert Downey, Jr. have roles in the
film as CBS employees. While the film doesn’t emphasize their characters, they
do deliver good performances. The standout, by far, however, is David
Straithairn as Edward Murrow. He portrays Murrow with a charm that is both
devilishly forthright and sincerely acerbic.
Also,
on a nostalgic level, this film soars. The filmmakers do an excellent job in
portraying the 1950s. They physically immerse themselves into the time period
in more of a total and passionate way than most movies I’ve seen. The gorgeous
black and white cinematography, the sporadic yet excellent use of music, and
even the scrolling caption in the beginning, which gives the audience the
necessary historical background, brings the viewer into the time.
I
must, now, bring up the aspect of the film that was highly controversial in my
film class: the ending. I won’t reveal the actual ending, but I will say that
many of my colleagues were left confused and unsatisfied. I am mixed on the
ending, but do have a final verdict. See, on the one hand, their critiques of
the ending are somewhat warranted. It doesn’t really end. It just stops. And it
does this at such an awkward part of the film that it left me asking, “That was
it?” I was befuddled, too.
However,
I’d rather be on the side of defending it, because on the other hand, the film
is about a non-conformist, so logically, the film should conclude in a
non-conformist fashion. One critique I heard of it was something along the
lines of, “Movies are supposed to actually provide an ending.” (not the exact
quote. I just paraphrased it). My rebuttal is that that is the conformist
route. That’s what would’ve been expected. As opposed to offering us a
clear-cut ending, it allows our knowledge of history to be activated and allows
history to play out without the film laying it out for the audience. It swings
for the fences, just like Murrow himself, but in a subtle form.
Subtlety is the glue that
holds this film together. While it doesn’t allow the film to push itself into anything
other than merely good territory, this still means it’s a good film. Seeing how
I commended the film on what it tried to achieve, this is a compliment.
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