This year, more so than even the dumpster fire that was 2016, has been the year of fact vs. fiction. A divided country has strayed away from agreeing upon facts and debating action, to being unable to even agree on what exactly constitutes a fact. An obvious proponent, of course, has been the push by many to discredit the media industry at large. It’s already served as fodder for a bevy of uncomfortable holiday meals (with plenty more to come later this month), but, to brave optimism, it’s also provided us with some truly revelatory filmmaking. That such films — like Steven Spielberg’s hotly buzzed “The Post” — were in production long before turmoil struck, is worth noting. But, happenstance aside, the gravity that films about journalism have taken on in light of the political and societal climate of the moment, is real, and it’s more important than ever that the diligent reporters and editors that populate newsrooms the world over get their due. The HBO doc “The Newspaperman: The Life and Times of Ben Bradlee” mostly succeeds at doing just that.
Chronicling the long and very storied life of Ben Bradlee, the executive editor responsible for shepherding The Washington Post to international recognition and acclaim, ‘Newspaperman’ is a light-footed, well-paced biopic that captures all the fierce energy that defined Bradlee himself. John Maggio’s film starts off timidly, though, picking up Bradlee’s thread as a young man heading into college, and stuttering through the characteristically ill chronicled early years. Maggio (“Looking For Lincoln”) leans noticeably on Bradlee’s own audiobook recordings from his autobiography, which doesn’t quite hamstring the movie, but certainly makes for a sluggish, one-note first third.
Soon, though, ‘Newspaperman’ picks up the tempo, as Maggio collects the incredible cast of characters who populated Bradlee’s life, from his wife, Sally Quinn, to Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein — the reporters responsible for doggedly covering Watergate — to Tom Brokaw and Henry Kissinger. And, as Bradlee’s reckless, whirlwind life unfolds — from Europe to Newsweek to The Washington Post — ‘Newspaperman’ evolves into a heartening, lived-in movie, spinning a poignant and celebratory portrait of a legend. From there, though, the film settles into a highlight reel of sorts, recounting Bradlee’s string of astonishing accomplishments at the Post — starting with his handling of the Pentagon Papers (a story that will soon have a film of its own in the form “The Post,” with none other than Tom Hanks portraying Bradlee).
What makes ‘Newspaperman’ so fascinating, is the sensation of witnessing Bradlee perform such a meticulous act of curation. He is not the writer behind the articles that made him famous, nor was he ever the one who made the final call about publishing any of the truly controversial stories the Post printed, but he was, in so many ways, the man who made these things happen. Many of his former coworkers and admirers describe him like you would a coach, someone responsible for recognizing talent, capitalizing on strengths and compensating for weaknesses, inspiring loyalty and motivation, and, ultimately, for knowing when to throw in the towel — which Bradlee rarely did.
The trouble with figures like Bradlee, though, is that they loom so large, their actions so monumental, that it feels impossible to merely define them by their achievements, which is more or less what Maggio’s movie does. This is, of course, because such figures were people, and people are never saints — no matter our posthumous hagiography — and saints never quite feel real.
But maybe that’s the point. Maybe Bradlee truly was larger than life. He was, after all, a shit-talking, chain-smoking, tough-as-nails editor who dethroned a president. Still, such a neat and tidy biopic loses its edge if it doesn’t take the time to shade in the whole picture — or to at least use some cinematic magic to make us feel like we’re getting the whole picture. Maggio, though, is never able to do that, and, as a result, ‘Newspaperman’ never transcends the status of an enjoyable toast to a worthy icon. [B]
