Newsworthy

Broadcast News

Network

Good morning, America, the world, and society, at large. Tonight’s top stories revolve around the news. That big, bleak, intimidating necessity that keeps us informed, aware, and from time to time, thoroughly sensationalized and scandalized. Growing up, the news was always on the TV, whether it was local morning weather, the big network evening news, or the looser, late-night news jockeys who gave their opinions just as succinctly as they reported on the facts. But this was not exactly the golden age of news broadcasting, this was when the titans of this industry—the Walter Cronkites, Tom Brokaws, and Dan Rathers of the world—were slowing down, Barbara Walters became a day time frill reporter, and even the most credible news sources seemed to relish in the storytelling aspect of their jobs and the scope of their influence more than they used to. People like Nancy Grace, Bill Maher, and Geraldo Rivera ruled the airways, focusing on the most shocking headlines and delivering incendiary monologues to enraptured audiences in the wake of such tragedies as 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, Natalee Holloway, Laci Peterson, and the occasional scintillating villain like Casey Anthony and Jodi Arias. It was distinctly dramatic, a tad absurd, and increasingly slimy, but it was also, as I’m learning, part of the natural ebb and flow of how the news is dispersed and dispensed to the public throughout history. As I’ve often said but can’t take credit for inventing, truth is stranger than fiction, so it only makes sense that our ways of distilling the influx of insane daily information would be a bit wonky and strange. To report on the facts of humanity is an inherently cold, detached practice, one that should, in theory, remain unbiased, but we all know that this is next to impossible. And as time has gone on, it’s seemingly gotten more impossible to find unbiased, unabridged reports of the news. The New York Times will let literally anyone, even Nazis and fascists and war-mongers and misogynists, write think pieces and op-eds that reach millions. The most bare-bones and basic nightly news affiliates are filtered and sanitized through the Big Brother-esque tech oligarchs and corporations that fund these reports. Charlie Rose and Matt Lauer are creeps, Bill Maher is now a militant weed-smoking fascist, and the “alternative news” reporters and TikTok “journalists” are drinking colloidal silver and peddling dick pills or whatever Joe Rogan and Ben Shapiro’s short asses are doing. It’s probably pathetic to say, but I find more journalistic integrity and chutzpah within the comedically-slanted news world, from bold, direct voices like John Stewart, John Oliver, and even Ziwe. Maybe it’s the trauma from the nonstop, 24-hour news coverage during COVID, maybe it’s the recent, blatant, rising public presence of unsubtle corporate overlords, but I am burnt out on watching the news. Not that it gives me any more pleasure to scroll through my news instead, but at least when it is written in an article, I can focus on the facts and ignore the fluff a bit more easily. I grew up with the news, I respect what the news used to stand for, but I am scared of the news, and I want nothing more than for the news to be boring, plain-and-simple reporting, as free of opinion and filler and propaganda as possible. The only safe place left may just be the local news and weather, and it’s also where the best‍ ‍news bloopers come from. The news of this evening, reported on by your favorite, long-winded and verbose critic, has to do with two cynical but wildly entertaining films surrounding the news: who reports it, how it gets distributed, and how inherently complex it is to be inside the machine that delivers so much constant information to the world, 24/7.

Our planet, our species, and our society is so chaotic, that it only makes sense that the news world would be chaotic, too, but tonight’s first film is also about as sweet and sappy as such a serious setting could ever be: this is James L. Brooks’ 1987 film Broadcast News. The film opens on three separate vignettes of determined, ambitious children, all coming from different backgrounds, but all of whom will eventually be future news reporters. We then cut to the present, where an intense but incredibly talented news producer named Jane Craig (Holly Hunter) is giving an impassioned and severe speech at a conference of local television news broadcasters. She explains how their profession is in danger of being destroyed by a newer phenomenon of “soft news” which prioritizes easy, fluffy stories about animals doing tricks and frivolous happenings over important reporting—but no one in the crowd really cares to listen besides a young, hot-shot of a rising star, Tom Grunick (William Hurt.) Typically, Jane bitches about work and the general apathy of their contemporaries to her coworker, the socially-awkward but gifted writer Aaron Altman (Albert Brooks), but on this particular night, Tom has invited Jane to dinner, so he is the captive audience for her ranting. They end up talking all night long—about the state of the world and the state of journalism—an air of flirtation and excitement brewing between them, that is until the charming and handsome Tom admits that he has a (valid) case of imposter syndrome. He explains how he got hired to do sports as a fluke, then it was falsely reported that he got fired, all his adoring fans wrote in letters, then suddenly he was promoted to anchor—all without a college degree, a substantial amount of experience, or a single clue what he’s doing. Boner now killed, Jane responds, “It’s hard for me to advise you, since you personify something that’s dangerous… what do you want from me, permission to be a fake? Stop whining and do something about it.” Though completely shrouded in a thick, heavy sweater and a long, heavy skirt, it seemed like these two might actually hook up, but after getting thoroughly roasted, Tom leaves. However, luckily, or unluckily, for Jane, Tom accepts a job at the DC affiliate of the national news station where Jane and Aaron work, and Tom is increasingly inspired by and attracted to Jane’s impressive, relentless work ethic. He witnesses how she runs the show, how edits to copy and clips and stories are made seconds before going on air, how a thought goes from her mouth to the earpiece of the anchor in New York which then goes to the audience of millions watching. It seems Tom is smitten, Jane is curious, and Aaron (who has always been in love with Jane) tries his best to maintain the natural order of the newsroom that was there before Tom, though his and Jane’s conversations and therapy sessions have become a lot shorter since Tom arrived. While Jane doesn’t exactly respect Tom, she can’t help her growing desire for him (relatable), though she clearly has a place in her heart for Aaron, too, who laments while out in the field that, “I can’t believe I just risked my life for a network that tested my face with focus groups.” Which newsman will Jane choose? You’ll have to tune in yourself to find out, but just know that Broadcast News, for all of its sentimentality and sweetness, is anything but a traditional or simple office romcom. It offers a fairly realistic and accessible peek behind this high-pressured curtain, one that was made in a reasonably-quaint time in terms of news cycles, so it still has room to be lighthearted and funny. Broadcast News also features Robert Prosky, Jack Nicholson, Lois Chiles, Peter Hackes, Christian Clemenson, Stephen Mendillo, and Joan Cusack, who at one point says to Jane, “Except for socially, you’re my role model.” The character of Jane was based on real-life reporter and producer Susan Zirinsky, who served as technical supervisor during production, and though several actresses were considered for the role (including Debra Winger, Sigourney Weaver, Dianne Wiest, Jessica Lange, Elizabeth Perkins, and Mary Beth Hurt), Holly Hunter brought a certain vivaciousness and spunk that made her high-powered and downright autistic character even more lovable. I loved this film’s script, how idealistic even its corrupt characters were, and how genuinely romantic it all ended up being, despite being set in such an unsexy environment.

Though it has its own brand of cynicism and anxiety, Broadcast News ultimately still gives the impression that those who report the news are the good guys, or at least, the well-intentioned guys. But tonight’s next film couldn’t have been less concerned with goodness or well-intentioned people, this is Sidney Lumet’s 1976 satire-that’s-hardly-a-satire: Network. I’m a fan of Sidney Lumet’s brand of sweaty cinema—12 Angry Men and Dog Day Afternoon are particularly sweaty—but I had no idea that I would be so entertained and terrified by Network. The film opens on fictional veteran UBS reporter Howard Beale (Peter Finch) and news division president Max Schumacher (William Holden), getting shitfaced and talking shit after Max has been forced to fire his longtime friend Howard due to declining ratings. The next night, Howard Beale calmly and cogently announces to his audience that he has just two weeks left of reporting, but on the newscast next week, he’s going to blow his brains out live on camera. He delivers this so casually, that only one person in the control room even notices, and then the news team and the entire UBS corporation descends into chaos. UBS plans to immediately fire Howard, but Max intervenes so that he can have a dignified farewell. Howard promises to apologize for his outburst, but once they go live, he launches into a rant about life being “bullshit.” More chaos ensues, but this time, UBS can’t help taking note of the rise in viewership. Programming chief Diana Christiansen (Faye Dunaway) takes particular notice of the increased ratings since this controversy, and sees Howard as the ticket to saving UBS from being in the bottom spot. Diana knows that what the people crave is sensationalism and scandal, and she dubs Howard as a modern-day prophet as she explains, “…the American people are turning soft: they’ve been clobbered on all sides by Vietnam, Watergate, the inflation, the depression, they’ve turned off, shot up, fucked themselves limp, and nothing helps. The American people want someone to articulate their rage for them”—and boy, was she ahead of her time for taking note of this. As more and more people tune into what used to be the nightly news, Howard is more and more hysterical, and one night he gets up from his news desk and screams the iconic line: “…Go to your window and yell out: I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!” And people actually do! The masses do seem to be fed up with the numbing quality of most televised news formats, so why not dive further into the business of making a spectacle? Eventually, the honest old-school news guy Max is fed up and resigns, leaving a crazed and conniving Diana to take over and double down on the insanity of their programming, which snowballs into even more convoluted, ill-gotten success than anyone could’ve imagined. Network is a no-holds-barred, absurdly funny, pointedly fucked up movie full of shock, awe, and suspense. It does not hold back on its critique of the American news machine and the beasts in neckties who keep it running, and no matter how ridiculous it presents itself to be, it is entirely accessible, frighteningly current, and completely within the realm of possibility. There’s so much more I want to tell you about this movie, about all of the turns it takes, about all of the biting and clever dialogue, about how it filled me with dread yet gave me hope because if they thought shit was bad in the 70s and we’re still around now then maybe that means we’ll be okay(?), but that would take far too long to articulate. Instead, I’m just gonna tell you to watch this movie. There’s no need to take an ethics or a speech class, no need to read about Karl Marx, just watch this dazzlingly grim movie and absorb all of its nihilistic charm and you’ll have all of the knowledge and paranoia you need. It reminded me so much of A Face in the Crowd—another prescient film with a startling cynicism—and it also felt reminiscent of the true story of Christine Chubbuck. I loved pretty much everything about this movie: its bluntness, its depravity, its proclivity toward alliteration, and its underscoring of the fact that, “democracy is a dying dud.” The entire cast is sensational—Robert Duvall, Wesley Addy, Ned Beatty, Beatrice Straight (who has the briefest-Oscar-winning performance of all time here), Arthur Burghardt, Kathy Cronkite, Lance Henrikson, and legendary plus-sized character actress Conchata Ferrell—but Faye Dunaway and her chilling gaze really stole the show. I’ll be thinking about this script for a long time, and I can see why Aaron Sorkin once said, “No predictor of the future, not even Orwell, has ever been as right as Chayefsky was when he wrote Network.” This film is hardly a satire, and hardly funny, but you gotta laugh—or else you’ll cry! Well, that’s about all the time we’ve got for this week’s broadcast, but I thank you for joining me. Until next time, good night, and good luck.