Howard Beale: Why me?

Arthur Jensen: Because you’re on television, dummy. 60 million people watch you every night of the week, Monday to Friday.

Howard Beale: I have seen the face of God.

Arthur Jensen: You just might be right, Mr Beale.

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I find that above any other topic being discussed when it comes to returning to older films is the subject of prescience; something about the dire current times has led to a an almost constant revaluation of classic film in the context that “they feel more relevant now than ever”. I instead like to look at things from a different angle: timelessness. This is also a very long winded way to introduce the timeless Network, flawlessly directed by Sidney Lumet (my shout for the best film in his cannon), from a script by Paddy Chayefsky which will forever be lauded on any list broaching the topic of greatest scripts of all time. There is the much touted story of George Clooney screening the film in preparation for a possible live TV special remake of the film, but found that the students viewing that had never seen the film weren't laughing for reacting at the absurd nature of the plot, only to find that the young students were not viewing the film as a satire anymore because everything they were watching regarding the over sensational nature of media presented in the film had become the norm and nothing but the truth. The film was originally meant by Lumet and Chayefsky as a representation of what was really happening, not a satire. Little did they know that even the most ridiculous aspects of their film would become pedestrian and tepid in the shadow of the current media landscape. Who could have ever guessed that Howard Beale, ‘The mad prophet of the airways’, would have ever seemed tame? Aaron Sorkin, who claims the film as one of his biggest inspirations, has written succinctly on the matter, stating “no predictor of the future, not even Orwell, has ever been as right as Chayeksy was when he wrote Network”. That is the ultimate power of the film that we are talking about, universally acclaimed by critics and audiences alike, and revered the world over, let’s discuss 1976’s Network.

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Howard Beale (Peter Finch) is a simple network news anchor who loses his job. Beale now takes his final broadcast to boldly claim that he will kill himself next week on air. Beale is suspended. Beale asks to go back on the show. Beale is allowed and delivers a speech on the bullshit that runs our lives. Beale is taken off the show, until we come to learn that the Bullshit speech was very popular with audiences. This is the slow building progression that ultimately leads to Howard Beale becoming the ultimate spokesperson for our troubled times. Manipulated from all sides of the media conglomerate by the likes of a steely go-getter Dianna Christenson (Fay Dunnaway), and by the likes of the verbose and fury filled Frank Hackett (Robert Dubvall), aswell as being attempted to turn to serious help by his friend Max Schumacher (William Holden). We watch as Beale is dragged back and forth and back and forth until there is only one thing to do to deal with his declining ratings; “kill the son of a bitch”. In the final scene when the concept of murder is brought up, it arises like any other number of witty comments and regards, it’s only when the conversation continues that we begin to realise that nobody’s joking. We are really going to view an assaisntaion because a man’s show isn’t popular anymore. We view the brutal killing, the live studio camera zooms in on the corpse of our lead figure and we cut to inane adverts for products of the time. The closing narration informs us that this was the story of Howard Beale, “the first known man to be killed due to bad ratings”. Title card. Cacophonous collage of TV sound bites. Credits. Brutal, viscous and devastating; Network.

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1976 was an absolutely incredible year for film with Network sitting alongside at the Oscars, Taxi Driver, All the President’s Men and Bound for Glory. However, the winner for the night of the big awards was Rocky. A fine film, but nowhere near the quality of those three masterpieces, or even the underrated qualities of Bound for Glory. Lumet even admitted that he was ‘furious’ at the Rocky win and all possible arrogance aside, I completely agree with him.  As of today the film is still the last film to receive Oscar nominations in all four acting categories. The film did receive four Oscars, three for its performances and an award for Chayefsky’s juggernaut masterpiece of a script. Chayefksy’s words are so beautifully positioned and scribed that even the most seemingly flippant of throwaway’s, such as “shrill, shrieking fraud”, is filled with so much power and precision that as a writer myself, it still floors me every viewing. There’s not a single dull character, or even supporting role that doesn’t get their moment or two. There’s something so effortless about this film that it seems to glide through its two hours without us giving a second thought to the drastic narrative shifts and the interweaving stories. It’s simply breath-taking. Peter Finch is truly the electric power and centre of the film  as the mad prophet himself, Howard Beale. Delivering one of the all time performances of the decade, in a role turned down by Gene Hackman (Chayefsky didn’t want a Brit like Finch to begin with), aswell as turned down by James Stewart (due to the foul language), Finch truly embodies the cataclysmic inner turmoil of a Machiavellian master aswell as a perversely prophetic imbued individual. Finch cleverly always toes the line with Lumet and Chayefsky, as to whether or not Beale genuinely is imbued with some higher spirit, or whether he’s suffering a mental breakdown. Or even whether or not what started as a breakdown has now been grabbed by the horns by a man who thought he’d lost his job and his way, but is now making the most of an insane situation. I simply adore and cannot deny the power, dark humour and immense charisma of Peter Finch and the wicked trajectory of the story of Howard Beale. Finch won the Oscar and deservedly so, for his iconic "screaming angry man" performance as Howard Beale, but it’s the layers beneath him that make the performance so wickedly brilliant and forever re-watchable. Finch unfortunately passed however before the Oscar ceremony, leading him to become to the first ever posthumously given award at the Oscars.

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The heart and core of the story for me has, however, always been William Holden as Max Schumacher. The beauty and vulnerability of Holden’s performance, paired with the pain and honesty of Chayefsky’s dialogue, leads to the love triangle between himself, an exceptional Faye Dunnaway and a film-stealing Beatrice Straight, which make for me the reason I find myself returning to this film over and over again. The friendship between Schumacher and Beale is beautifully brought to light on the screen by the two exceptional performances. But for me, Holden steals the show as Schumacher. So brilliant and vulnerable for such an old Hollywood actor and so brilliant in his breakup scenes with both Straight and Dunnaway. The biggest change from the script and arguably the most crucial was the reversal of the romance montage shared by the adulterers, Schumacher and Christianson, to precede rather than follow the truly brutal scene where Schumacher informs his wife of his adultery. This reversal allows us to enjoy the romance of the montage and get swept up into the affair, before being brutally thrown back to reality with the incomparable performance of Straight. This was however by all accounts one of the only diversions from the script, which was followed to the absolute letter, naturally so with it being one of the finest pieces of writing ever conceived, for any medium.

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The film’s third Oscar was for Dunnaway for best actress. Lumet’s simple initial direction for Dunnaway to deliver the role of Dianna Christenson was that she should have no vulnerability and that “if [she tried] to sneak it in, [he’d] get rid of it in the editing room, it’s a wasted effort”. Lumet was naturally being hyperbolic, as there are multiple scenes where we see her vulnerability, all desperately illuminating to her character. The film’s famous fourth Oscar was received by Straight for supporting actress, despite famously only being on screen for 5 minutes and 2 seconds – the briefest performance to ever win an Oscar. The film has another brief but desperately effective performance, from Ned Beatty who would often comment himself that his most common advice to actors is never to turn down work, stating that he “worked a day on Network and got an Oscar nomination for it”. One cannot deny also the mammoth energy of Robert Duvall as Hackett injecting  a certain volatility and a naivety to the film that is the mixture that cements the whole film into the painfully neat package that it is. 

Lumet’s vision for the film is based mainly around a very particular arc, based on a journey from naturalistic, even documentarian, lighting and film language, eventually bleeding into and progressing ultimately to a more visually dynamic and slickly lit piece of film. All this leads to the themes and concepts of media manipulation and the like being brought subconsciously to the mind, in addition to the dialogue. The entire film passes by without us really taking notice that no piece of score music has been heard, other than TV commercials and show themes, further leading us into the realism of the first half of the film. With Lumet’s incredible talent and Chayefsky’s pitch perfect piece of prose, I think it’s fair to say that we may very well never receive a piece more prophetic, more tragic or more illuminating to the media sphere that we currently habitate.

-          - Thomas Carruthers