A common criticism of Aaron Sorkin’s directorial debut “Molly’s Game” was that it squandered the cinematic potential of its material. Sorkin has always been known as a master writer and both “The Social Network” and “Steve Jobs” most significantly demonstrate the auteur impulses of the fastidious David Fincher and pop artist Danny Boyle respectively can bring to elevate the already terrific wordplay.
With “The Trial of the Chicago 7” however comes a more accomplished and immediate film, with the opening establishing sequences some of the strongest all-encompassing storytelling of his career and highly impressive in his second outing. Much like with Michael Mann’s “Ali” using a rapturous Sam Cooke tune to bring us into the world of Cassius Clay, this opens with a similar musical rhythm, a blistering tempo, a blend of archival news footage and critical character introductions.
The film is set at the 1968 Democratic National Convention where a peaceful protest turned into a powder keg and resulted in an explosive clash with Chicago police and the National Guard. The seven organisers were then put on trial to answer charges of conspiracy.
The powerful opening leads to the introduction of John Mitchell, Nixon’s newly appointed Attorney General played by wonderful “The Wire” alum John Doman – a character actor that easily conveys a sense of authority, compliance and acceptance of the tic-tac-toe of the political bureaucracy.
Sorkin sets a fast pace and a dynamic collaboration of voices articulating the events unfolding such as Sacha Baron Cohen’s Abbie Hoffman offering almost stand up comedic and candid retellings of events in night club spaces, to serious courtroom testimonials to flashbacks between the key players.
Cohen’s Hoffman is an expression of the star’s magnetism through spinning yarns. Mark Rylance’s Defence attorney Kunstler is a kind of effortless, weathered shoe leather performer. John Carroll Lynch and Jeremy Strong’s activists Dellinger and Rubin have a kinship in their ability to create emotionally authentic and real feeling people – despite whatever affectations their costume/period/real-life counterparts require of them.
Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as the defiant Black Panthers leader Bobby Seale is squeezed by constant obstructions of justice and practised systemic oppression from Frank Langella’s Judge Hoffman – and the final expression of his injustice is one of the most affectingly performed moments in the film.
After a lot of admirable work in characterisation, layered story structure and editorial pacing to articulate the ownership of the story from the different perspectives of the major players involved in the tale. The final moments of the film though rest on the shoulders of Eddie Redmayne and it’s a showstopper.
Redmayne functions in this strange lane of camp articulation of character that he’s vastly more engaging when he’s going completely over the top (see “Jupiter Ascending”). His Oscar win for “The Danish Girl”, in many ways, delivered the perfect character vehicle for his telegraphed style as his character’s gender transition is a multi-layered performance within Redmayne’s performance. Redmayne’s style is like a high school math problem; in his mind, he wants to show you his work. Perhaps even if the expression doesn’t quite work, you’ll at least appreciate the choices that he’s making in the attempt.
In “Trial” however, Redmayne pales in contrast to the ensemble. His ‘Hayden’ is characterised as looking for an alternate more compliant path and so his dramatic function is straightforward. However his performance as Hayden is wildly out of sync with the immersion of the performers that make up the central protagonists.
A man who, in light of the chaos that unfolds in the horrific manipulation and exploitation of justice, gets a profound and defiant showman redemptive moment? It is saccharin. It stains the entire film with a stink that it almost cannot recover from. It’s a lesson that Sorkin learned from “All The President’s Men” that was delivered so well in “The Social Network” and has not carried over onto this film.
This moment of optimistic American triumphalist nonsense is an emphatic proclamation that these players would be defiant in the face of systemic corruption. “The Trial of the Chicago 7” is a timely film, until the end leaves you with a bitter taste.
