They say that the television is a box for idiots.
According to Sidney Lumet and writer Paddy Chayefsky, the television is a scam for us idiots run by a crew of utter rascals.
'Network', a film 40 years old, took us all behind the scenes of the chaos on the television screen and exposed these rascals, as they went on make a giant farce of a failed, faded TV news anchor and his rambling rants against life and money and turned it into a best-selling TV show that soon erupted beyond control for all of them. The situation is one of sheer incredulity, delivered with scorchingly hilarious satire and armed with barn-storming politics. But that is missing the point of it all.
The point is that, even as the political situation has changed, 'Network' still feels brilliantly relevant today.
TV news legend Howard Beale is going through the wringer. He has lost his once sizeable audience share, his wife and has turned into a depressed drinker, when one day the UBS network decides to fire him. The suitably sober narration in the beginning presents to us the facts with all the briskness of a news anchor and then, unexpectedly, ends with 'The two friends got properly pissed', smashing at that moment every shred of seriousness and dipping the narrative in the pool of pitch-black comedy with fascinating irreverence. Classic.
On one of his routine broadcasts, he turns quietly berserk and announces to kill himself in the coming week. Suddenly, all hell breaks loose, the headhonchos in the network get cranky and then again the horrible truth dawns on them all- this defeated man's rants and ramblings will sell like hotcakes to the millions of Americans hooked to their tube screens in their homes.
It would be grossly criminal to reveal what happens next. Lumet takes us on a thrilling, giddily enthralling cinematic trip through the world of broadcasting and boardroom politics- infusing his meticulous, documentary-style attention to detail with trademark flashes of Chayefsky's ironic, politically astute mirth- programmers chat and flirt while Beale sets television screens on fire and the top brass makes their own devilish moves with seething malice, all moving in to make a killing from this new sensation. And somewhere, in the backdrop, a country is going crazy too, disillusioned after Watergate, trapped in Middle Eastern politics and flooded with angry communists all around. At one point, the TV network even plans a show called the Mao Tse-Tung Hour.
And then comes the film's searing highpoint- a rainy night when Beale unleashes a torrent of anger at the way the world is and what should be done about it. It is a scene of nerve-shattering tension and drama- a moment that needs to be seen to be believed, as the network sharks get startled and ecstatic at the rabble being roused and the audience- that is us all- getting stirred from our chairs into pointless perversity. A moment, a monologue that is to be treasured.
Actually, scratch that. This is not just a moment to be seen to be believed- even as Lumet's urban, unglamorous aesthetic is at its most exciting here. It is also a suitably epic monologue that needs to be listened as well. Chayefsky's writing turns beautifully elaborate at this juncture and this, along with the many stirring and simmering monologues and charged exchanges, is one that bursts with passionate anger and hefty political insight. Everything is taken a dig at- from Arab sheikhs holding American oil companies at ransom to a general escalation of crime and moral decay as well as the firebrand communism of the era. And all of these come with both verbal urgency and sparkling wit into the screenplay. It's blazing, stunning writing, with enough room for clever exchanges and cheeky sexual innuendo, and somewhere towards the end, there is also a superbly phrased and witty speech in favour of consumerism and capitalism, delivered by none other than the brilliant Ned Beatty playing stern-faced CCA chairman Arthur Jensen who is hired to throw some sense into Beale. Do me a favour: if you have to watch 'Network', make sure you turn up the speakers and watch it with subtitles.
The sheer relentless fury of the verbal fireworks may be, at times, brutal but the lack of subtlety and the unhinged anarchy of these moments are what hammer home 'Network's arguments with fascinating effect. Also, Lumet's usually gritty and grubby visual style is here traded for a sleek, edgy aesthetic that helps to capture all the brainy banter with nuance and poetic perspective, thanks to Owen Roizman's linear, almost Kubrick-like cinematography. When Beale is babbling, like a shaman, in front of entranced crowds, the camera does not fail to focus on the nervous, fervent gaffs and recording technicians ducking in front of the bulky cameras recording every word and move. When he hears Jensen's soiloquy on how companies are the new countries, the perspective is distant, as if following the bewildered gaze of Beale himself. And there is a stunningly operatic scene in which suitably roused TV viewers head to their balconies and fire escape windows to chant the film's most iconic rant against unfairness in the world.
The actors are all phenomenal.
Peter Finch, playing a disgruntled and equally befuddled Beale, is in fine form, especially during the standout sequences when he takes command of the screen and lets loose his anger and predicament. However, beyond his persona of a modern-day prophet of doom, there is curiously little that the actor brings to the table. He shines in one fabulous scene when describing his visions as some sort of magical mysticism but the actor is not really the best thing about the film, in which each performer seems to be outdoing the other. Still, there is something creepy about the way he succumbs to insanity with devastating menace.
Faye Dunaway's programming head Diana Christensen, looking perfectly gorgeous, even when spanking her colleagues verbally, turns into the film's femme fatale- a cold-hearted corporate vamp who is only thrilled, aroused and bothered by TV ratings and audience share figures. She is a character for ages- the way she climaxes on bed while gabbing on relentlessly about how her planned shows can make her big is simply as enthralling as her sizing up her colleagues and even convincing firebrand radicals to show up live for her TV shows. Seductive, slithery and effortlessly slick, she is just outstanding.
Robert Duvall is fascinatingly creepy as CCA executive Frank Hackett, who lashes everyone around in anger but also confesses, in one snappy moment, that the company is no more just a network but a whorehouse.
The entire film, however, is stolen completely by William Holden as Max Schumacher, the helplessly non-plussed news division president who cannot help but chafe at the entire charade, utterly disgusted with the way Beale is exploited and falling prey to the same demons of failure and disgrace. World-weary and defeated by the scheming rascals around him, Schumacher also has the film's most compelling arc- the way he falls inevitably for Christensen, in a brief affair, makes him equally as vulnerable as others around him and far from being a hero. At the same time, Holden is most smashing, when at one juncture, he lets Beale speak about life being bullshit, precisely so as to let off his own steam at the sudden changes happening around him. It is a classic performance that endures.
'Network' is also one for the ages. It is a film which stuns on so many levels- as a brilliant satire packed in with gutsy political commentary, as a darkly unsettling psychological thriller exposing the demons of defeat and disillusionment and, above all, a solid argument against the evils of the television and the people who run the game.
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