Network

**The Primal Forces of Network** According to the Writers Guild of America the greatest screenplay of all time belongs to _Casablanca_. A sentimental favourite, no doubt, worthy for a handful of catchy one-liners capped off with a convincing dump-the-dame speech. While Bogie plays himself, Bergman, who may have been the most beautiful woman of all time, didn't have much to say. The best moments in Casablanca were, in fact, the silent ones, and without Bogie and Bergie's chemistry, it probably wouldn't have made the top 10. Best screenplay suggests best story, best plot, best characters and dialogue; best combination of drama, comedy, intrigue, emotional engagement, suspense, social and political relevance; one peppered with casual everydayisms, baited with humour and simmering with intelligence, threatening to release an experiential payload of euphoric proportions; a work that can transcend genre and demographics, build up simultaneously on various levels, plumbed by the weight of it's essential voice, sending out intuitive signals, rippling with perplexing channels and insightful glimpses that are symbolically blended into plain words on paper; all with a properly superb balance of sex, wit, desire, comfort, fear, anger and wisdom in an accelerated narrative leading us to a magnificent crescendo and--fade out--leaving us to wonder. Furthermore, great screenplays serve the motion-picture medium's incomparable ability to effortlessly jump time and space. _Casablanca_ is static and contained, framed and nailed to the wall: a pretty photograph. Despite the WGA's endorsement, there can only be one candidate good enough to qualify for the all-time best screenplay, and fittingly it goes to the all-time best screenplay writer. Paddy Chayefsy's _Network_ has dazzled us for four decades and counting. The scene where a mob of murderous bank-robbing terrorists who have their own reality TV show bicker over the wording of their contract alone demonstrates we are dealing with a higher grade of pertinent genius. The corporate cosmology of Arthur Jensen, a pivotal lesson in global economics, tops it off, leaving all Network's competitors in the dust, burying any climactic speech written before or since, Bogie's famous brush-off farewell included, thus slamming the lid down on anything _Casablanca_ can play. As for ill-fated romances, the doomed alliance between old-school journalism (Holden) seduced and corrupted into severing his ties with his compassionate spouse to hastily shack up with the opportunistic post-modern media wench (Dunaway) is fraught with more complications than anything _Casablanca_ can muster, and it's only one of the sub-plots. Of course _Network_ is most famous for the "I'm mad as hell" rant, which swells from a nuanced and complex story arc demonstrating the rise and fall of an iconic media star. Hell-raising public mischief aside, Howard Beale's profound narrative leads off with a suicidally desperate, washed-up newsman who impulsively hits a nerve, rockets to stardom as a modern-day prophet, then is shaped and sensationalized as an overcooked parody by the media, stigmatized by maniacal Fox-news-like delusions that overtake him until he gets too big for his britches and needs a walloping corporate scolding, causing his starry streak to fizzle out, before getting gunned down by the greedy TV execs who made him, leaving hapless undiscriminating audiences to grasp for the next new thing. _Network_ is inspired writing that doesn't require heart-throbbing movie stars to pull it off. It could have been directed by my illiterate grandmother, shot on VHS in a dingy church basement, performed by eager boy scouts and girl guides, and it would still be the greatest screenplay of all time, one not just for the spectacle of projecting on a giant screen, but for doubling as a giant mirror with just enough sugar-coated satire to swallow the shitty truth about ourselves. Though calling _Network _a satire is like calling Hamlet a murder mystery. Satire is either spineless and passive-aggressive, or specific and short-lived. Chayefsky's bombastic pronouncements become more exceptional and relevant each passing year.

Network broadcasts its televisional corruption through satirical poetry that beckons democratic madness. “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore”, screams Howard Beale from the confinement of his studio desk. Exerting his ornate insanity upon the entranced viewers who innocently stare at their cubic televisions, watching the news broadcast fuelled by media misrepresentation and propaganda. “Go to your nearest window and scream”, acting as the voice of the working class, benign to the American corporate fundamentals that masquerade the politics of democracy. In an age where leading actors can represent constituencies or states, and businessmen can be presidential candidates for a nation (and successfully winning...), Lumet’s timeless satire on conceptualised democracy is one that grows more appropriate with each passing decade. A statement on the American financial system, where colossal stock markets rule the supposed freedom of the people. Broadcasting networks more focussed on combating against each other for monetary viewership, leading to exaggerated fabrications, rather than reporting the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Exploiting the frail mentality of humanity to feed the greed and lust of “humanoid” managers, capitalising on the naivety of man. Network depicts the modern evolution of communicating false truths. As technology evolves, we grow more and more susceptible to the “truth” that is conveyed to us. We, much like sponges, absorb the information demonstrated through the porous pixels that we subject our eyes to. Televisions. And through hyperbolised satire, including planning an assassination attempt and coercing suicidal tendencies, Lumet offers a cutthroat insight into broadcasting institutions and the meticulous methods in which networks function. Motivated by stock shares and rating dominance. Pioneering the consumption of propagandist material. Lumet exploits the audacious power of televisions and its communicative abilities, turning an often comedic satire into a transcendental horror feature. Powered by sterling performances all-round, including the elusively commanding Dunaway, the maddening lunacy of Finch and the smoothly suave Holden, the poetic dialogue immediately captures the attention of its audience. Concisely elaborate with a hint of existential analysis, an ornate lexicon that refrains viewers from tuning out. Lumet’s long sumptuous takes, allowing the performances to ironically hypnotise, further extend the reach of its material. Superlative direction that, whilst suddenly throws you into the immediate chaos of Beale’s mentality, eases the hectic pace with its scathing power. The offscreen affair between Dunaway and Holden was the only underdeveloped sub-plot, reinforcing her workaholic agenda that likened her to a corporate machine than to a human with emotive capabilities. Aside from that, Network absolutely deserves its near-perfect acclaim. A considerably profound illustration of the American system that tantalisingly exposes the fraudulence of promised conceptualised democracy, whilst also enforcing the relinquishment of humanity through television sets. Harrowing times we live in...

Few Hollywood productions have been as utterly prescient as director Sidney Lumet’s cinematic masterpiece “Network” (1976), a chillingly serious satire about the television business in the 1970s and where it was ultimately headed in years to come. Written by TV pioneer Paddy Chayefsky, this winner of four Oscars on 10 total nominations provides a comical but cynically disturbing look inside the workings of a fictitious American television network. In telling this story, the film eerily forecast the direction this medium would take in the decades that followed with remarkable accuracy, stunningly predicting such developments as the tabloidization of TV, the consolidation of media ownership, the impact of foreign influence and investment, and the dumbing down, sensationalism and line-blurring of its content in both its entertainment and journalistic programming. It also nailed developments outside the television business with great clarity by focusing on the pivotal role that TV played (and would come to play) in those occurrences. And, even though it’s something of a nostalgic time capsule of the period in which it was filmed, the picture has held up remarkably well (it gets better with every viewing for me), even unwittingly providing viewers with an ironic and unsettling metaphor for the ubiquitous rise of social media (with TV serving as a stunningly fitting stand-in). Chayefsky’s Academy Award-winning script is positively brilliant, epitomizing what good screenwriting can (and should) be. And its casting is about as good as it gets, earning Oscars for the performances of Faye Dunaway, Peter Finch and Beatrice Straight, along with well-deserved nominations for William Holden and Ned Beatty and noteworthy accolades for Robert Duvall and Marlene Warfield. In fact, I’m stunned that this offering lost out to “Rocky” for best picture and that nominee Lumet was passed over for the best director award. Those oversights aside, however, I was nevertheless privileged to view this offering at a retrospective screening in honor of the filmmaker’s 100th birthday to a nearly sold-out audience. I’m pleased to see that this celluloid gem still garners so much viewer attention nearly 50 years after its release and that it’s attracting the interest of moviegoers of all ages. This is an absolute must-see for avid cinephiles, as well as highly recommended viewing for anyone who truly wants a poignant, insightful look at what’s truly going on in the world around them, particularly when it comes to the workings of said world and the selective filtering of information about it. “Network” just might deservedly open a few eyes – and raise quite a few eyebrows at the same time.