The 1970's, and especially the so-called Watergate scandal which led to the resignation of President Richard Nixon, marked a turning point in the not-so-distant American history. This turning point also cast its shadow on American popular cinema, and several political thrillers, drawing inspiration from Costa-Gavra's highly successful and influential "Z" (1969), depicting the loss of credibility and trust for the state were made. Alan J. Pakula's "All the President's Men" (1976) is the central film and how suiting it is since "All the President's Men" retells the story which revealed the truth of the scandal that inspired this change; that is to say, the story of two reporters of the Washington Post, Bernstein and Woodward.
Although the film might at first glance seem to be nothing but a visualization of a story that should have been expressed in writing, one slowly begins to realize that this appearance is really the strength of the film. In other words, Pakula's rigid and tight tension is due to his relentless dramaturgic desire to show only what matters story-wise -- and not just the story of the film, but the historical story that prevailed in the reality of 1976 America -- and nothing more. This stripping of everything superfluous creates a unique atmosphere whose grip is quite difficult to escape once one has started the film.
If "All the President's Men" as a historical (yes, historical) film tries to tell about a certain time in history, it also reveals something of its own time which is, of course, veritably close to the time its diegetic world takes place in. The spectator is given the chance to observe the work of investigating journalism before the revolution of the Internet when the three most important instruments of a reporter were telephones, typewriters, and cigarettes. One call after another, tapping words on a typewriter all night, and burning cigarettes like crazy characterize their everyday lives. Information must be discovered from libraries, archives, and unorthodox sources instead of typing a search term for Google. These words aren't meant for self-deliberate nostalgia, but rather to capture what takes place in front of our eyes when we sit around "All the President's Men"; to feel its feel, to sense its sense, so to speak.
More importantly than revealing the reality of 70's journalism, the film, of course, reveals the reality of 70's politics. Not only does the film do this, however, but also encapsulate a world whose sounds, smells, and sights we can now inhale after many a decade. "All the President's Men" tells about a world of paranoia and fear, tormented by the uneasy threat of the Cold War. It's a world where the media creates lies and conceals, but where it can also be used to reveal that deception. It's a world where one must creep into the darkness of a night-time parking lot to hear the truths beneath the surface, the truths from the shadows which are intimidating and exhilarating, stirring yet liberating.
So, at its heart, "All the President's Men" is mainly interesting as a period picture, yet not only in the sense of showing what life was like in back then but also capturing its zeitgeist. Nonetheless, each time I see the film I am certain of the fact that its strength -- the total focus on the story -- is also its weakness since it can never rise above it and become something glorious, life-altering, and shattering. But the more important thing is that it doesn't want to. It is fine with what it is and as it is, a revelation or (if one is feeling less generous) a capture of a revelation. What is certain is that it is important and as such it shall remain.
Although the film might at first glance seem to be nothing but a visualization of a story that should have been expressed in writing, one slowly begins to realize that this appearance is really the strength of the film. In other words, Pakula's rigid and tight tension is due to his relentless dramaturgic desire to show only what matters story-wise -- and not just the story of the film, but the historical story that prevailed in the reality of 1976 America -- and nothing more. This stripping of everything superfluous creates a unique atmosphere whose grip is quite difficult to escape once one has started the film.
If "All the President's Men" as a historical (yes, historical) film tries to tell about a certain time in history, it also reveals something of its own time which is, of course, veritably close to the time its diegetic world takes place in. The spectator is given the chance to observe the work of investigating journalism before the revolution of the Internet when the three most important instruments of a reporter were telephones, typewriters, and cigarettes. One call after another, tapping words on a typewriter all night, and burning cigarettes like crazy characterize their everyday lives. Information must be discovered from libraries, archives, and unorthodox sources instead of typing a search term for Google. These words aren't meant for self-deliberate nostalgia, but rather to capture what takes place in front of our eyes when we sit around "All the President's Men"; to feel its feel, to sense its sense, so to speak.
More importantly than revealing the reality of 70's journalism, the film, of course, reveals the reality of 70's politics. Not only does the film do this, however, but also encapsulate a world whose sounds, smells, and sights we can now inhale after many a decade. "All the President's Men" tells about a world of paranoia and fear, tormented by the uneasy threat of the Cold War. It's a world where the media creates lies and conceals, but where it can also be used to reveal that deception. It's a world where one must creep into the darkness of a night-time parking lot to hear the truths beneath the surface, the truths from the shadows which are intimidating and exhilarating, stirring yet liberating.
So, at its heart, "All the President's Men" is mainly interesting as a period picture, yet not only in the sense of showing what life was like in back then but also capturing its zeitgeist. Nonetheless, each time I see the film I am certain of the fact that its strength -- the total focus on the story -- is also its weakness since it can never rise above it and become something glorious, life-altering, and shattering. But the more important thing is that it doesn't want to. It is fine with what it is and as it is, a revelation or (if one is feeling less generous) a capture of a revelation. What is certain is that it is important and as such it shall remain.