Four stars. Rated R, for profanity and coarse sexual candor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.4.15
You have to love ironic
serendipity.
When Trumbo was scripted, and
then green-lighted for production, and then filmed — with much of its dialog
lifted directly from legendary Hollywood screenwriter Dalton Trumbo’s actual
speeches and testimony, and delivered so superbly by star Bryan Cranston —
nobody could have anticipated that this impeccably mounted and rigorously
authentic drama would be released just as our country is poised to repeat the
same ghastly mistake made with Japanese American citizens during World War II,
and the so-called “Communist sympathizers” who were blacklisted during the 1950s.
 |
| Packed tightly into a movie theater filled with eager patrons, Dalton Trumbo (Bryan Cranston) and his wife, Cleo (Diane Lane), await the film's all-important credits. |
One of whom — Trumbo — is the
subject of director Jay Roach’s heartfelt and thoroughly mesmerizing film.
Mesmerizing for two reasons:
because of scripter John McNamara’s skillful adaptation of veteran journalist
Bruce Cook’s 1976 biography, written with Trumbo’s full cooperation; and
because of Cranston’s richly nuanced portrayal of the feisty novelist,
screenwriter and social agitator.
No question: Trumbo was a
character, and Cranston captures the famed scribe’s numerous eccentricities,
righteous indignation and insufferable idealism. Trumbo fought the good fight,
and lived to talk about it; his thorn-in-the-side persistence — assisted, at
just the right moment, by a few Hollywood heavyweights — helped break the
blacklist, and put an end to the ultimately ineffectual scare-mongering tactics
that emanated from the House Un-American Activities Committee.
Roach and McNamara re-create this
shameful bit of American history with the same darkly droll tinge of humor with
which Trumbo peppered both his casual conversation and his screenplays.
Actually, that’s an misstatement; Trumbo’s conversation rarely was casual, and
Cranston gleefully chews into McNamara’s dialog — and Trumbo’s own words — with
the enthusiasm of a hyena tearing at a carcass.
We’ve been down this road before,
notably with 1976’s The Front — made with numerous individuals, both in front
of and behind the camera, who had been smeared by the blacklist — 1991’s Guilty by Suspicion and 2005’s Good Night, and Good Luck.
The latter was highlighted by
David Strathairn’s eerily authentic portrayal of broadcast journalist Edward R.
Murrow. Cranston takes a slightly different approach with Trumbo, nailing the
man’s behavior and wonderfully rich verbal vitriol, without really trying to
imitate him. As easily observed in the period photos and news clips that appear
during the closing credits, Cranston doesn’t really look much like Trumbo.
By my, he sure sounds and acts
like him.
The story opens in the aftermath
of World War II, by which point Trumbo had become one of Hollywood’s hottest
and most popular screenwriters; credits included A Bill of Divorcement, Kitty Foyle, A Guy Named Joe and Tender Comrade. In the publishing world,
his anti-war novel Johnny Got His Gun won one of the initial National Book
Awards, as 1939’s most original book.
He also was an unapologetic
member of the Communist Party, a distinction he shared with numerous
individuals who had suffered during the Great Depression. Although not the
slightest bit ashamed of the wealth that allowed his family to enjoy the
pleasures of a large ranch estate, Trumbo also believed that Hollywood’s
various craftspeople — such as set builders — deserved a living wage.
In this regard, he’s not adored
by studio heads who’d love to do something about him ... but can’t stop relying
on his uncanny ability to churn out hit movies.
(Trumbo really was remarkably
good, and even more remarkably fast. We get a strong sense of that here, but
not the full picture; he’s credited with a staggering 53 produced screenplays
between 1936 and 1960 ... and he very likely wrote far more than that.)
Trumbo’s progressive politics are
shared by many Hollywood friends and colleagues, most notably actor Edward G.
Robinson (Michael Stuhlbarg) and fellow writers Arlen Hird (Louis C.K.) and Ian
McLellan Hunter (Alan Tudyk). In turn, these individuals are loathed by
Hollywood conservatives such as John Wayne (David James Elliott) and, most
particularly, gossip columnist Hedda Hopper (Helen Mirren).
Whatever happens outside the
home, however, Trumbo has the unflagging support of his loyal and patient wife,
Cleo (Diane Lane), and their three children: Niki, Chris and Mitzi.
As the “red scare” and Hollywood
purge ramp up, Trumbo — who genuinely loves his country — just as genuinely
can’t imagine that such blatantly unconstitutional persecution of people,
strictly for their beliefs, will linger for more than a year or two. This is to
become one of his rare errors in judgment.
McNamara’s script skillfully
charts what follows, from the unplanned loss in the U.S. Supreme Court — after
the unexpected death of a liberal judge — and the jail terms given Trumbo and
other members of the “Hollywood Ten.” What comes next is the best part, as the
endlessly imaginative and ferociously clever Trumbo figures out how to beat
Hollywood at its own game.
Rarely has revenge been dished
out so sweetly.
But not without cost.
Other larger-then-life characters
enter the story at this point, most notably hack producer Frank King, who was
in the late 1940s and early ’50s what Roger Corman would become in the 1960s
and ’70s: an impressively successful purveyor of junk movies. John Goodman was
born to play this role, and his larger-than-life rendition of King is both
hilarious and refreshingly candid (the latter a rare quality in honesty-averse
Tinseltown).
Actually, while Cranston steals
the show, everybody in this film is both well cast and quite strong in their
respective roles. Mirren is jaw-droppingly nasty as Hopper: a tabloid witch who
wields her power with deliberate cruelty, and — as presented here — thoroughly
enjoys squashing her enemies. Mirren has played several vicious characters
during her long and remarkable career, but her Hedda Hopper may be the topper;
one brutal diatribe against MGM head Louis B. Mayer (Richard Portnow) will
scorch eyebrows.
(Although I’d long been aware of
Hopper’s various cruelties, I was surprised by this film’s no-holds-barred
depiction of her anti-Semitism ... which, after some research, appears to be
well-founded.)
Louis C.K. is quietly powerful as
Trumbo’s frequent debating foil and (so it would seem) best friend. Hird is
this saga’s one prominent fictitious character: a composite of the many lesser
Hollywood writers who — lacking Trumbo’s resilience — were buried by the
blacklist. Hird therefore stands in for all such victims, and C.K. — best known
as a comedian — gives a deeply sensitive performance.
Lane’s Cleo is quiet, tolerant
and forgiving ... until she isn’t. The shift, when it comes, makes a strong
statement.
Elle Fanning takes over, later in
the story, as Trumbo’s elder daughter Niki; she shines as the mirror in which
her father eventually perceives what frustrated monomania has turned him into.
Also during this third act, Dean
O’Gorman is marvelous as Kirk Douglas; Christian Berkel is even better — and
hilarious — as the imperious director Otto Preminger. Both come along at a
pivotal moment in Trumbo’s unyielding shadow war against the blacklist.
Theodore Shapiro’s jazz-inflected
score evokes both the noirish atmosphere of many 1950s films, and the equally
dark activities taking place in the real world. Cinematographer Jim Denault has
fun replicating old-style film stock and style, while production designer Mark
Ricker gives us a thoroughly authentic depiction of these (mostly) Eisenhower
years.
As a sidebar, Cranston is a sure
bet for an Academy Award nomination, and McNamara has a similarly strong shot.
They certainly have my vote.
Roach,
primarily known as the comedy director responsible for Austin Powers and Meet
the Parents, nonetheless delivers an impressively passionate and thoroughly engaging drama
here, craftily building suspense and layering irony much the way Tom McCarthy
did in Spotlight. Both films are valuable historical documents; both should
be required viewing for folks blandly willing to trust — and follow — Those In
Power.
No comments:
Post a Comment