Good luck, indeed

If you haven’t seen Good Night and Good Luck [produced and written by George Clooney, screenplay by Grant Heslov], go see it. Now.

For those who don’t know, the movie focuses on a narrow period in the career of pioneer broadcast journalist Edward R. Murrow. Although Murrow’s legacy extends far beyond this window to include historic reporting during WWII and afterwards, this film concentrates on the battle that he and his production team at CBS waged against Wisconsin Senator Joseph McCarthy. As a junior senator from Wisconsin, McCarthy terrorized the fabric of America’s social landscape by launching spurious crusades against people he suspected to be associated with Communism, hence, the ensuing Red Scare. Largely due to the editorial pieces written and read on-camera by Murrow, McCarthy’s credit was debased and the Senate ultimately voted in 1954 that he performed "conduct that tends to bring the Senate into dishonor and disrepute".

With that history as a backdrop, Clooney drew on his first-hand experience in the newsroom (his father was news anchor) to produce an incredible film. If listening to one of Murrow’s understated responses to McCarthy’s tyrannous crusade doesn’t make your skin tingle, I really don’t know what will. This was the essence of free speech and it was using a new medium (television) as the conduit-a medium most people didn’t understand had the capability of serving such a role. This was the internet, video/satellite phone of the age and the possibilities were just surfacing.

Plus, it was cool how they used so much actual footage, but the transfers were smooth because the film wasn’t in color. You watch as David Straitham (playing Murrow) views a video screen showing an actual McCarthy clip. It’s seamless and convincing. Seriously.

But beyond the story and the acting, I loved the way the movie looked and felt. A simple elegance pervaded throughout that found its expression in unique ways. To attribute this simply to the film being black-and-white doesn’t do it any justice. Many of the scenes involved a single camera panning around a room, tracing the development of a conversation. It was cool because it was crude but it wasn’t dizzying; you felt like you were sitting in the room. Another technique I liked was how many close shots of the face they used. Black and white has this amazing capability of capturing skin creases and eye communication. And skin creases were found aplenty! I’m sure this has something to do with the fact that everyone smoked like frickin’ chimneys (Mr. Murrow, apparently, outsmoked even the most assiduously dedicated, which was evidenced best by his untimely lung cancer demise). The scene interludes used a single woman, with background instruments, crooning out different songs (depending upon the transition). Again, simple and elegant.

I loved this film for all this and more. Go see it and try to convince me that Murrow’s speech from 1958 couldn’t be more relevant on November 10, 2005. If you succeed, I’ll buy you some popcorn and rejoice that we’ve come farther than I thought.