Don’t let the pompous title fool you: James Vanderbilt’s “Truth” is much more than its name suggests. Even though the film wants to tell a weighty story about the fall of broadcast journalism, it wisely chooses to do so by focusing on a single protagonist and the result is a far more intimate story than one might expect.
Opening on a distraught woman (a superb Cate Blanchett) as she seeks advice from a high-priced lawyer, “Truth” quickly returns to her past, exploring the path by which she arrived at this state. We learn that her name is Mary Mapes and that she once was a well-respected television news producer for CBS’ “60 Minutes.” While investigating material, she came across a tip suggesting that George W. Bush used his connections to be avoid military service during Vietnam. At first it seems like an ideal piece — it is informative, it is politically relevant (the 2004 election is right around the corner), and it speaks to Mapes on personal level.
As in his magnificent “Zodiac,” Vanderbilt excels at turning the minutiae of investigative journalism into a thrilling game of cat-and-mouse. Mapes and her team pore over the few publicly available documents on Bush’s service record. They reach out to every member of the military remotely involved with Bush’s service. They cajole various politicians into speaking on the record. It’s a laborious process where even the tiniest bit of information is hard-earned. But in the end, Mapes produces something that she believes should be aired.
This, as we already know, is a mistake – one that Mapes is punished for on a near cosmic level. Immediately after airing, every possible detail of the story comes under question. Rumors spread, witnesses claim coercion. CBS asks for an on-air apology before suggesting that Mapes take a leave of absence. It is a downward spiral, and it is incredibly thrilling to watch. It pushes Blanchett to portray entirely new emotional registers for a woman used to always being in control. And it pushes Vanderbilt to consider the unique ways that Mapes was vulnerable as one of the few prominent female members of the press. A particularly deft touch is when Mapes accidentally reads a comment section on an article about her, and is shocked by the level of misogyny contained within it. On purely dramatic grounds, “Truth” succeeds.
But when “Truth” aspires to be more ponderous and weighty, it is not so fortunate. The film is plagued by the belief that the only way to express its themes to the audience is by directly stating them in dialogue. In one scene, a member of Mapes’ investigative team gives an extended speech to his boss about how CBS is being controlled by Viacom and the Republican Congress. It doesn’t sound like a reporter talking to his boss; it sounds like Vanderbilt talking to the audience. And there are many more scenes like this where the film stops, states its opinions, and then underlines it to ensure that everyone is on the same page. For the most part, these scenes fail to add any thematic or intellectual complexity to the work, and they put a dead stop to the flow of the narrative.
Who could possibly be interested by a rote scene where characters talk about how “60 Minutes” is the last remaining substantive work of broadcast journalism? How could any of these scenes possibly compare to a scene of Mapes seething with rage over her father publicly denouncing her on TV before breaking down in tears and begging him to stop?
Contact Raymond Maspons at raymondm ‘at’ stanford.edu.