One of the most riveting, scathing movies of 2019 came to us courtesy of Amazon Studios, and it has made its way up my favorites from the year. It's the sort of unlikely movie that captured my attention almost instantly and became so intense and thrilling that by the end I felt that no time had passed, while feeling physically and mentally exhausted.
Writer and director Scott Z. Burns (Pu-239 is his only other directorial credit, though he has written several paranoid thrillers including Contagion and Side Effects) here manages to do the near impossible. He has crafted a story that spans over 13 years that unearths countless secrets, involves a huge cast of characters based on real people, and concerns a 6700-page report. His main character, the primary writer of the titular report, is obsessive and apparently introverted, and in his introduction of himself refers to himself as being an outsider and not a good partner. The film takes place in lots of offices, governmental archives, and black sites, all of which induce claustrophobia and a loss of the sense of time passing. None of these are innately cinematic. In fact, a project like this seems nearly unfilmable. But Burns makes this not only cinematic but entertaining, challenging, and beautiful.
The report in question is sometimes crudely known as "the Torture Report," an enormous 2012 document meant to uncover the CIA's Detention and Interrogation Program and specifically their use of torture on prisoners. We are subjected to occasional -- and intensely graphic -- flashbacks that dramatize many of the "enhanced interrogation techniques" used on prisoners of war and suspected terrorists, notably Abu Zubaydah. These are jarring and difficult to watch, but as the film's more (and more extensive) didactic scenes grow more intense, we realize the calm ways people in business suits discuss torture are as brutal as those actually conducting waterboarding.
The screenplay is primarily one-sided in its focus on the Senate Intelligence Committee's investigators in the same way that All the President's Men is one-sided in its approach to Watergate or Spotlight is one-sided in its journalistic approach to the Catholic pedophile scandals. Which is to say, it's one-sided because there is only one side to this issue. While it does paint in broad strokes the Republicans who defend the use of torture and the CIA officials trying to save their own asses, its facts as to who knew what information at what time and supported what actions is all correct, as far as I can tell. It champions Senators Feinstein and McCain not because of any personal traits or their partisanship but because they chose to hold the CIA accountable for international criminality.
But the screenplay has other magnificent features, too, in the realm of entertainment. It's conscious of its place in the genre of...whatever this genre is? Legal thriller, historical crime drama, investigative journalism meets politics, courtroom of law? Its camera and editing sometimes recall The West Wing or House of Cards. Its characters feel ripped from C-SPAN in hyperdramatic moments that wouldn't be out of place in a courtroom drama. Its righteous sense of purpose stands in stark contrast to another film it directly references, Zero Dark Thirty, which boasts, I'd argue, thematic inscrutability. And it gives its incredible cast (including Ted Levine, Tim Blake Nelson, Corey Stoll, Maura Tierney, and Jon Hamm) a lot of juicy material that so easily could have been chokingly dry. Even Adam Driver, whose performances usually underwhelm me, here gives what may be his best work in a thankless, difficult leading role. But Annette Bening steals the show here, though her screen time is limited.
It's surprising to me, having viewed it now three times, how carefully the film straddles its own thematic ambiguity. I mean, obviously it's anti-torture, but it tries hard to come across as earnest and realistic. It doesn't sugarcoat the fact that no CIA officials have been reprimanded, disciplined, charged, or even fired as a result of their use of torture or their attempts to cover it up. But it doesn't tonally feel like an indictment of the agency, or of the government as a whole (an Eastwood film would have that feeling); instead, it turns its heroes into patriots. Near the end, Senator Feinstein praises the U.S. for being one of the few countries that would approve a document revealing such dark stains on national integrity. This film embraces the gray area in which it lives while advocating for us all to hold our authorities accountable, a remarkably mature and hopeful message as we head into an election year.
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