GOOD NIGHT & GOOD LUCK

Now that many American high schools have given up teaching courses in civics, it’s heartening (and a bit frightening) to see Hollywood step in to teach us the fragilities and responsibilities of Democracy.

Directing his second feature film, George Clooney delivers a smart, restrained and timely examination of how television news, once upon a time, fearlessly spoke truth to power.

Good Night and Good Luck is set during the 1953 Communist witch-hunts, and traces the five episodes of Edward R Murrow’s television program, See It Now, which challenged Senator Joseph McCarthy’s campaign of paranoia and personal destruction. At the time, the national press, afraid to be accused of treason, refused to examine or criticize the House of Un-American Activities. When Air Force officer Milo Radulovich was drummed out of the service because of secret accusations against his father’s patriotism, Murrow and producer Fred Friendly decided enough was enough. Much to CBS’s discomfort they challenged the government, which trigged a loss of sponsors, charges that Murrow was a Fellow Traveler, and eventually, an on-air rebuttal by McCarthy himself.

These televised confrontations resulted in some of the most profound and pertinent commentaries of Murrow’s career. Wisely, Clooney avoids underlining choice statements like "We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty," and "We cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home.” Instead, he lets the reporter’s editorials casually remind us of their relevance today.

Some critics might complain that Goodnight and Good Luck fails to capture the full political and social climate of the time, but they’d be missing the point. Clooney is interested in addressing how our government can distort the truth and abuse its power and how we must answer that abuse. The film argues that it’s the duty and responsibility of the press, in particular broadcast television, to question the actions of our leaders.

Working from a script he co wrote with Grant Heslov, Clooney’s film doesn’t add much to historical record. He relies on archival footage of McCarthy and the hearings, as well as direct transcripts. As a result, the film is, indeed, a civics lesson… but an expertly told and entertaining one. By narrowing the focus to CBS’s smoke-filled newsrooms, hallways, and elevators, Clooney captures the intellectual immediacy of his story. The claustrophobic settings also heighten Goodnight’s climate of fear and intimidation.

Personal insights about Murrow and his colleagues are, for the most part, avoided. When Clooney does stray from the main story, things start to unravel quickly.

Though the cast is uniformly good, David Strathairn commands with his uncanny portrayal of Murrow. He delivers a career-making performance that brilliantly captures Murrow’s dignity and self-doubt. Special notice should also be given to Frank Langella for his portrayal of conflicted network exec, William Paley. It’s a performance that earns his character empathy and criticism.

Robert Elswit’s sumptuous black and white cinematography gives the film a crisp, hard-edged reality that feels more authentic to the era than other similar period films, like Quiz Show. Clooney mimics the style of television pioneers Sidney Lumet and John Frankenheimer, using harsh lighting, inventive camera angles and full-face close-ups to good effect.

The film, like Murrow himself, puts forth a cool, collected, almost inscrutable façade. But beneath its surface is seething disgust and anger with our current political state. The parallels to the complacency and spinelessness of today’s mainstream press are unavoidable. Goodnight and Good Luck makes it clear how desperately we need principled, inquisitive and courageous reporters like Murrow today.