True-story films about political journalism fall into two
categories: insightful historical documents and shallow propaganda. On that
continuum, then, Truth falls
somewhere right of center – which it would detest to be labeled, I am sure – by
falling closer to political agenda than historic insight.Cate Blanchett stars as Mary Mapes, the 60 Minutes producer who oversaw the controversial story about George Bush’s alleged abandonment of duty during his 1970s stint with the National Guard. Robert Redford co-leads as Dan Rather, the doomed anchor whose commitment to the story (spoilers for real life?) ends up costing him his job. Truth covers the timeline from the story’s pitch in the summer of 2004 through Bush’s re-election in November.
The problems with the film are severalfold. First, to be pedantic, the title. Titles are important, as we know, and to label a story “Truth” is to take on an immense responsibility, a terrific burden. But in the promotional materials, Mapes herself describes the film as “my truth” – a critical difference from the truth, which the film purports to be. Worse, the film trades a great deal in equivocation and shouting down objections – a fine rhetorical strategy, I suppose, were it not for a monologue in which Blanchett decries that same technique.
A similarly false note is rung in that same monologue when Blanchett’s closing speech – which has all the self-congratulation of an Aaron Sorkin screenplay but less of the snappy prose – sneers at the allegations of conspiracy theorists and those who pander to them. Those of us in the audience ought to recognize what Truth does not – it’s speaking about itself in that moment, because it comes on the heels of a soliloquy by Topher Grace in which he alleges that his employer’s parent company Viacom is colluding against Congress with the Bush cabinet to protect its assets, while the film also spins a web of circumlocution around the origin of the documents in question.
Actually, the political stuff, which the filmmakers foreground, is for my money the least interesting material in Truth. I’d have much rather the film teased out more the way Mapes regards Rather as a kind of surrogate father (a Freudian slip near the film’s conclusion, mercifully, isn’t beaten to death), but the film leaves Mapes and Redford apart for a fair amount of their screen time. It’s likely the exigencies of real life at play, Rather having covered other newsworthy events like a hurricane at the time, but it’s evidence that there is more interesting material in the story than the film allows.
Rhetorically, then, Truth somewhat fails to live up to its own title. As a piece of film, though? It’s a little more successful aesthetically, though it’s far from perfect. It’s director James Vanderbilt’s debut, having cut his teeth on scripts for the Amazing Spider-Man reboots, Zodiac, and White House Down – a mixed bag if ever we saw one. Blanchett is, as ever, solid and enjoyable to watch, and the supporting cast (including Grace, Elisabeth Moss, and Dennis Quaid) does a fine job filling out the script. Disappointingly, Redford never quite convinces the audience that he’s Dan Rather; there are moments when he seems to have nailed Rather’s signature drawl, but otherwise it’s hard not to see Redford playing a version of himself – a complaint I didn’t have, incidentally, with Redford in last year’s much more delightful yet equally political Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
In short, I came away from Truth somewhat disappointed by its blatant political stance – a Fox News truck shows up with all the cinematic techniques you’d expect to see accompanying Jack the Ripper’s screen debut – and its attention to more aesthetic matters like its intriguing subplots. But rather than critique the film for what it wasn’t, what I would have preferred it to be, I’ll say that what we got wasn’t the award-season material its producers likely wanted.
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