Friday, April 12, 2024

Scoop: Fascinating, fact-based depiction of a journalistic coup

Scoop (2023) • View trailer
Four stars (out of five). Rated TV-14, for dramatic intensity, sexual candor and occasional profanity
Available via: Netflix
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.3.24

Movies about reporters have been a cinema staple ever since talkies emerged.

 

Early classics leaned toward comedy, most famously with 1931’s The Front Page and 1940’s His Girl Friday (actually a gender-switched remake of the former). Following World War II, the genre focused more on social issues, with notable examples that included 1947’s Gentleman’s Agreement, 1948’s Call Northside 777 and 1951’s Ace in the Hole.

 

Prince Andrew (Rufus Sewell), naively believing that his "royal bearing" will win the day,
hasn't the faintest notion how his oblivious behavior will come across on camera, when
interviewed by BBC journalist Emily Maitlis (Gillian Anderson)


But it took 1976’s All the President’s Men to bring the genre into crucially important territory, with its depiction of dogged real-world investigative reporters determined to speak truth to power, and warn ordinary people about the monsters hidden in plain sight.

Recent classics similarly ripped from actual events include 1999’s The Insider, 2005’s Good Night, and Good Luck, and 2015’s Spotlight. They remind us of the crucially important role played by the Fourth Estate in a democracy, at a time when honest journalism — in print or on television — is in a death spiral, and an increasing number of corrupt individuals exclude truth-tellers and speak solely to “friendly” reporters.

 

Bloggers don’t break stories or create news; they merely repeat it.

 

All of which brings us to Scoop, adapted from a chapter in Samantha McAlister’s 2022 memoir about her most (in)famous journalistic “gets”: in this case, the events that led to the 2019 BBC television interview that brought down Prince Andrew.

 

As was the case with All the President’s Men — which captivated naysayers who initially scoffed at the notion of investigative journalism being interesting — director Philip Martin’s well-paced handling of these events is fascinating. He gets a significant boost from the sharp script by Geoff Bussetil and Peter Moffat — the latter a veteran of crime-oriented British TV shows such as Criminal Justice and Silk — and a terrific cast.

 

The story begins in 2010, with a suspenseful prologue that finds tabloid photographer Jae Donnelly (Connor Swindells, excellent in this brief role) finally getting the photo — on December 5 — that showed Prince Andrew strolling amicably through New York’s Central Park with his good friend Jeffery Epstein.

 

That picture would haunt Prince Andrew for almost a decade, as he tried to distance himself from the slowly widening sex scandal that embroiled Epstein and his equally complicit partner, Ghislaine Maxwell.

 

Martin and his writers then move events to 2019, as staff members of the BBC current events program Newsnight listen with dread when massive layoffs are announced. Emotions are high, prompting an uncomfortable exchange between “booker” Sam McAlister (Billie Piper), producer Esme Wren (Romola Garai) and on-air interviewer Emily Maitlis (Gillian Anderson).

 

Sam is by far this story’s central and most interesting character: no surprise, since the actual McAlister took an active role during production. She’s the single mother of an adolescent son, Lucas (Zach Colton), whom she adores — the feeling is mutual — but who too frequently gets left in the care of her kind and wholly understanding mother, Netta (Amanda Redman).

 

Although intuitive, ferociously intelligent and trained as a lawyer, Sam hasn’t abandoned the attitude and “look” that signal her working-class origins. She’s a true fish out of water in a newsroom filled with mostly male colleagues from upper-class backgrounds: a distinction that vexes Sam, but certainly doesn’t deter her. Piper plays her as a resolute force of nature: blessed with curiosity, sharp instincts and the savvy to exploit them, and a down-to-earth warmth that encourages trust from potential interviewees who’d be turned off by her stuffy colleagues.

 

Her job, bluntly, is to “get bums on seats”: to sweet-talk targets into interviews that they should recognize are ill-advised ... but, ego being what it is, feel they can control. She’s very good at it, which prompts no small amount of jealousy from those same colleagues.

 

The merde hits the fan when Sam gets a tip that Epstein is about to be arrested by the FBI — again — on sex-trafficking charges, when his plane lands in New Jersey. Knowing that this will place a renewed spotlight on Prince Andrew (an almost unrecognized Rufus Sewell), she reaches out to his private secretary, Amanda Thirsk (Keeley Hawes). It’s a crucial first meeting, with Sam turning on the us-girls-gotta-stick-together charm.

 

Hawes deserves an award for the subtle nuances of her performance. Thirsk is responsible for protecting Prince Andrew’s public image, which puts her in conflict with Jason Stein (Alex Waldmann), the “spin doctor” recently hired for the same purpose. But he’s a condescending little twat, and Thirsk — having been at the prince’s side for six years — believes that she knows him more intimately, and is a better judge of how he should be “handled.”

 

Viewers will wonder — eventually, if not immediately — how Thirsk could continue to work alongside a man who had sex with underage girls. (Seriously. By this point, there was no doubt.) The answer is revealed in Hawes’ quietly anguished gaze, when the prince isn’t looking: Thirsk loves him, and truly believes that his role in this scandal has been misunderstood, and if he can just tell his side of it, everything will be all right.

 

A belief that Sam nurtures, slowly and carefully.

 

Although no fan of Sam, Maitlis recognizes the importance of what they might accomplish. At first blush, Anderson’s performance seems more caricature than character: Maitlis is a stiff, pompous fashion plate with an overly cultured speaking voice, who is obsessed with her dog (and the pooch’s ubiquitous presence annoys everybody else on staff).

 

But this is her “celebrity self,” which she unapologetically maintains far too often. When it comes to crunch time, Anderson transforms; Maitlis becomes a consummate professional. Her behavior during the climactic interview is a master class of acting: the subtle little gestures, the carefully lowered gaze — intended to appear disarmingly deferential — and the smoothly quiet persistence with which she circles back to questions left unanswered. Sheer poetry.

 

Sewell’s performance is equally sublime, and quite damning. His Andrew swans above everybody else, seemingly oblivious to anyone’s humanity beyond his own. He radiates effete, childlike indifference, still referring to the Queen as “Mummy.” He’s totally loathsome, never more so than when he coldly berates a young staff woman for failing to properly arrange the tower of teddy bears always placed on his bed pillows.

 

On the other hand, exposing Andrews’ bare bum, when he exits a bath at one point, is needlessly, weirdly exploitative: a tawdry misstep in an otherwise refined film.

 

Martin and his writers also take serious liberties with time. Much of this film’s tension results from the scramble to secure the interview a mere 72 hours after Epstein’s arrest: to catch Prince Andrew off-guard, before Stein and everybody else can circle the wagons. 

 

Well ... no. In the real world, Epstein was arrested on July 6, 2019, and was found dead in his cell on August 10. Maitlis’ interview with Andrew took place November 14, and was broadcast two days later. Sam and her Newsnightcolleagues therefore had four months to prepare ... but, hey, that’s show business. The three-day timetable definitely is more exciting.

 

That calculated transgression certainly doesn’t hurt the film, which in all other respects is rigorously faithful — when possible — to actual events. Anderson even made a point of mimicking Maitlis’ posture and movements, during key portions of the interview. The takeaway is the sort of journalistic triumph that reminds us anew of the Fourth Estate’s function as essential advocacy.


The fact that this particular saga was orchestrated entirely by women, also is pretty damn cool. 

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