As newspapers continue to flail about, desperately attempting
to postpone their long, clumsy deaths, there’ll be at least one
unforeseen casualty in Hollywood: the contemporary journalistic
thriller. From All the President’s Men to Zodiac, there’s
something about the buzzing rush of a newsroom and frantic scribbling
in notebooks that translates unexpectedly well to the big screen,
bringing with it a strangely exhilarating sense of risk and
righteousness.
In State of Play, schlubby newspaper reporter Cal McAffrey
(Russell Crowe, looking as schlubby as it’s possible for Russell Crowe
to look) is of the old school: He can’t refer to blogs without
sneering, and he warns a source that if they don’t listen to him,
they’ll fall prey to “the bloodsuckers and bloggers.” But despite his
pride and skill, McAffrey’s fictional Washington DC paper is spiraling
downward, with a recent takeover by a media conglomerate and a newfound
focus on blogs and eye-catching graphics.
But faster than you can say “conflict of interest,” trusty ol’
McAffrey gets a trusty ol’ news story. McAffrey’s college roommate,
Senator Stephen Collins (Ben Affleck, expertly utilizing his smarmy
charm), finds himself in the midst of a sordid scandal—and it
might be linked to a suspicious murder McAffrey’s already
investigating. “Am I talkin’ to my friend now, or am I talkin’ to a
reporter?” Collins asks McAffrey, and McAffrey’s response—”I have
to be both”—kicks State of Play‘s impressively layered
narrative into gear. But soon, McAffrey’s forced to team up with
adorable, naïve blogger Della Frye (Rachel McAdams)—who,
conveniently enough, could stand to learn a thing or two about real
reporting. (Or what “real reporting” is in movies, anyway: lots of
ominous music, tense chases through shadowy parking garages, and
research montages.)
Considering how much there is to State of Play—it’s
based on a six-hour-long BBC drama, and it feels like it—it’s
pretty damn impressive that the film works as well as it does. Despite
throwing in hot-button issues about no-bid contracts, political
corruption, and private military contractors, and then adding
some melodrama between McAffrey and Collins’ wife (Robin Wright Penn),
and then shoehorning in a hilariously douchebaggy Jason
Bateman as one of McAffrey and Frye’s sources, director Kevin Macdonald
somehow keeps State of Play fluid, engaging, and surprising,
even if the climax is a bit too sensational for its own good.
But that’s kinda the charm of this sort of movie: It wouldn’t be a
journalistic thriller if the entire fate of the world wasn’t on a lone
reporter’s shoulders. When McAffrey shouts, “This is as big and
connected as it gets!”, it’s impossible not to root for the
guy—he’s got a huge story, and the only way he knows to tell it
is slowly and irrevocably fading away.
The subgenre of thrillers about intrepid journalists is a small one,
sure—and for all I know, maybe these movies are only truly
thrilling for those few of us who still work in print journalism. But I
suspect not: When they’re done right, as State of Play mostly
is, they pack an authoritative, heady punch. I’d love to be proven
wrong, but I’m guessing that feeling won’t quite come across when we
get our first journalistic thriller about a very determined
Twitterer.
