GEORGE CLOONEY’S homage to the late, great CBS reporter Edward R. Murrow rings the curtain down on one of the most exciting festival editions I have attended.
It’s the hysteria — rather than the bony facts — that make Clooney’s brilliant satire about the most famous witch-hunt in American history such a gripping watch. It’s 1953 and under intense pressure to toe the Republican line, Murrow and his CBS news team do the unthinkable. They call Senator Joseph McCarthy’s bluff, and challenge his authority on the House Un-American Activities Committee. David Strathairn plays the legendary anchorman who refuses to blink, and if he does not win an Oscar for this performance then there are no marbles left in Hollywood.
Murrow is the most unflappable and respected reporter in the business, but a duel with McCarthy could sink the network. The strain creases Strathairn’s face and crumples the shoulders of his pinstripe suit.
Shot in velvety black and white, the film eavesdrops on Murrow’s crucial briefings before his weekly broadcast to the nation. The compelling drama is how precious little firepower he actually has on his side. Survival hinges on his credibility, and his friends are melting away. Clutching a cigarette between thumb and forefinger, Strathairn delivers his daring homilies straight to camera with a courage that brings tears to the eye. The almost leisurely intimacy does nothing to disguise the explosive import of his arguments. You won’t see the like on satellite television. The station is a nervous wreck. The camera roams the fuggy offices and arcane studios.
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The CBS chairman, William Paley (Frank Langella), does not know whether to cash in his shares, fire the staff or pull the plug. Loyalties are tested to the limit. The stakes are too high for some, the consequences tragic for others. The rhythm and pace reflect a newsroom under siege. The perspective is terrific: we are flies on the wall at backroom crises; and the unofficial jury when the shows go live.
Clooney is almost too saintly in the role of Murrow’s faithful producer, Fred Friendly. But his idealism is infectious. His own father was a campaigning hack in the 1950s and Clooney intended doing the same until fate rocketed him to fame in the television drama ER.
Good Night, and Good Luck — Murrow’s signature signing off line — makes a stunning case for Clooney’s future as a director. I cannot think of a festival in the world that would not give an arm and leg to end on a note of magic like this.