The movie is going to be placed in a line of films about journalism and journalists that goes back to the beginning of talkies. The wise cracking reporter and cigar chomping editor were staple characters in the Thirties when reporters went to Hollywood to become screen writers. THE FRONT PAGE, Ben Hecht And Charles McArthur’s play and film (remade by Hawks as HIS GIRL FRIDAY) was a biting satirical take on cynical reporters who cruelly abuse anyone for a sensational story. Capra often used reporters as central characters, toughened idealists and evil publishers, manipulating a gullible mob (MEET JOHN DOE, MR. DEEDS GOES TO TOWN, and IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT).
ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN was a landmark film about journalists as heroes, doggedly chasing down the conspiracy behind Watergate that threatened to destroy our democracy. For a time, investigative journalists became stars, and ironically, SHATTERED GLASS is the extreme evolution of that fact.
Among the greatest horrors of life is the suspicion that we cannot discover the truth in our increasingly complex and data saturated world. We rely on institutions to develop systems to do it for us. The Law, Religion, The Family, Science, Education, Government, Art, Journalism — these are the central institutions we have designed to provide us with understanding of our world. Distrust in institutions leads to cynicism, rebellion, depression, anarchy.
A President cheats, lies and covers up; a writer plagiarizes; a priest, teacher or coach lusts for choir boys; parents are faithless; a historian invents sources, steals passages, invents a vita; a lawyer suborns perjury and the police plant evidence; an accountant cooks the books; a scientist fakes experiments; students cheat on exams. Each time the cost is enormous, the cost to trust and to the faith we must share in our institutions.
Of course no system is infallible. All of them break down and should not be trusted at face value. There have to be checks and balances. Each system must self-police, and each institution must check the others.
Insidious pressures are placed on the practitioners in each institution, pressures which militate against The Truth. The most insidious is the competition for attention. We live in a crowded society, in which we are forced to make a mark that separates us from others by showing excellence or at least “brilliance.” We claim to reward the best and the brightest.
Often in our world, the ability to amuse and to entertain are the elements that elevate one from the crowd because entertainment is the commodity that the audience in any field seems to value above all others. The most entertaining in any field will “succeed” because entertainment “sells.” Sensational entertainment sells the most. Therefore, each institution develops its stars that dazzle us with their special brilliance. But to become a star entertainer, it is tempting to cheat and that risks bending the truth until it shatters.
This movie tells the example of an institution in which it spun out of control. Steven Glass was a star writer for The New Republic, a political and cultural magazine that prides itself on being an influential speaker of The Truth. Its systems for vetting articles by its young, bright, competitive writers claimed to be the tightest in journalism. Fact-checking and close scrutiny by multiple editors were thought to insure authentication of its published stories. But the system was flawed.
it relied in its core on the assumption that no writer (especially one who appeared to be brilliant, self-effacing, charmingly nerdy, and sensitive) would make up a story out of whole cloth, and it assumed that if he possessed detailed notes which contained the quotes and sources he relied on, then the article would be okay.
What it ignored was that a person desperate for stardom would be able to mask his fabrications because his inventions were so entertaining, his affect is so believably charming, and his personality so seemingly brilliant and sincere, that his peers and superiors wanted just as desperately to believe him.
The story is told in a straightforward manner. Glass’s transgressions are revealed one by one as doubts begin to rise. The first doubt is generated, in ironic appropriateness, by a competing magazine, upset that Glass beat them to a story.
As they begin to find flaws, they see a chance for their own fame by exposing the fraud. Even here, the exposing writer on the scent jealously guards his story from colleagues eager to share the glory and fame that might result from the resulting exposé of a competing magazine’s errors. The film only hints at the danger that the truth will again be distorted and that this writer is no better or different from Glass.
It doesn’t happen here, due to the efforts of one character in the story, a hero in the traditional mold of movie heroes. The newly appointed editor of The New Republic, Charles Lane, played solemnly by Peter Sarsgaard, is an outsider in his office. He has replaced a charismatic figure, who was revered by the young staff writers and editors, including Glass. He is distant, serious, and as he pursues the truth, they see him as unsupportive of their friend and co-worker. He has to keep reminding them that the truth is what they are supposed to be pursuing.
An important subtext in the film is the issue of maturity. Glass in the person of actor Hayden Christenson, is a troubled young man. He is twenty-three, writing for a magazine that influences public policy. He has been rushed to stardom too soon. The balance of ambition and integrity that comes with slow development and acceptance of adult responsibility has been neglected.
Glass is not prepared for failure, so he has resorted to cheating. He needs to keep producing brilliant work. When he can’t, he makes it up. We recognize his kind. He was one of the very bright students, parents with high expectations; his brilliance is his key to acceptance and he must perpetuate it at all costs, even though deep down he knows he is a fraud. There is some of him in all of us.
ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN was a landmark film about journalists as heroes, doggedly chasing down the conspiracy behind Watergate that threatened to destroy our democracy. For a time, investigative journalists became stars, and ironically, SHATTERED GLASS is the extreme evolution of that fact.
Among the greatest horrors of life is the suspicion that we cannot discover the truth in our increasingly complex and data saturated world. We rely on institutions to develop systems to do it for us. The Law, Religion, The Family, Science, Education, Government, Art, Journalism — these are the central institutions we have designed to provide us with understanding of our world. Distrust in institutions leads to cynicism, rebellion, depression, anarchy.
A President cheats, lies and covers up; a writer plagiarizes; a priest, teacher or coach lusts for choir boys; parents are faithless; a historian invents sources, steals passages, invents a vita; a lawyer suborns perjury and the police plant evidence; an accountant cooks the books; a scientist fakes experiments; students cheat on exams. Each time the cost is enormous, the cost to trust and to the faith we must share in our institutions.
Of course no system is infallible. All of them break down and should not be trusted at face value. There have to be checks and balances. Each system must self-police, and each institution must check the others.
Insidious pressures are placed on the practitioners in each institution, pressures which militate against The Truth. The most insidious is the competition for attention. We live in a crowded society, in which we are forced to make a mark that separates us from others by showing excellence or at least “brilliance.” We claim to reward the best and the brightest.
Often in our world, the ability to amuse and to entertain are the elements that elevate one from the crowd because entertainment is the commodity that the audience in any field seems to value above all others. The most entertaining in any field will “succeed” because entertainment “sells.” Sensational entertainment sells the most. Therefore, each institution develops its stars that dazzle us with their special brilliance. But to become a star entertainer, it is tempting to cheat and that risks bending the truth until it shatters.
This movie tells the example of an institution in which it spun out of control. Steven Glass was a star writer for The New Republic, a political and cultural magazine that prides itself on being an influential speaker of The Truth. Its systems for vetting articles by its young, bright, competitive writers claimed to be the tightest in journalism. Fact-checking and close scrutiny by multiple editors were thought to insure authentication of its published stories. But the system was flawed.
it relied in its core on the assumption that no writer (especially one who appeared to be brilliant, self-effacing, charmingly nerdy, and sensitive) would make up a story out of whole cloth, and it assumed that if he possessed detailed notes which contained the quotes and sources he relied on, then the article would be okay.
What it ignored was that a person desperate for stardom would be able to mask his fabrications because his inventions were so entertaining, his affect is so believably charming, and his personality so seemingly brilliant and sincere, that his peers and superiors wanted just as desperately to believe him.
The story is told in a straightforward manner. Glass’s transgressions are revealed one by one as doubts begin to rise. The first doubt is generated, in ironic appropriateness, by a competing magazine, upset that Glass beat them to a story.
As they begin to find flaws, they see a chance for their own fame by exposing the fraud. Even here, the exposing writer on the scent jealously guards his story from colleagues eager to share the glory and fame that might result from the resulting exposé of a competing magazine’s errors. The film only hints at the danger that the truth will again be distorted and that this writer is no better or different from Glass.
It doesn’t happen here, due to the efforts of one character in the story, a hero in the traditional mold of movie heroes. The newly appointed editor of The New Republic, Charles Lane, played solemnly by Peter Sarsgaard, is an outsider in his office. He has replaced a charismatic figure, who was revered by the young staff writers and editors, including Glass. He is distant, serious, and as he pursues the truth, they see him as unsupportive of their friend and co-worker. He has to keep reminding them that the truth is what they are supposed to be pursuing.
An important subtext in the film is the issue of maturity. Glass in the person of actor Hayden Christenson, is a troubled young man. He is twenty-three, writing for a magazine that influences public policy. He has been rushed to stardom too soon. The balance of ambition and integrity that comes with slow development and acceptance of adult responsibility has been neglected.
Glass is not prepared for failure, so he has resorted to cheating. He needs to keep producing brilliant work. When he can’t, he makes it up. We recognize his kind. He was one of the very bright students, parents with high expectations; his brilliance is his key to acceptance and he must perpetuate it at all costs, even though deep down he knows he is a fraud. There is some of him in all of us.
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