Movies | Journalism | History
All the President’s Men: The Washington Post Vs. Richard Nixon
On June 17, 1972, several burglars were arrested at the Democratic National Committee offices located in the Watergate building complex in Washington, D.C. This event became known as the Watergate scandal. This was no ordinary robbery. The burglars had connections to President Richard Nixon’s re-election campaign, and they were caught wiretapping phones and stealing documents.
This caught the attention of two journalists from The Washington Post, Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, so they carried out an in-depth investigation into the case. Their success in uncovering the truth behind this incident forced Nixon to resign from his position as President of the United States. This incident also gave rise to the most mysterious source/informant in the history of journalism, known as Deep Throat.
All the President’s Men is a film based on the book of the same title by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. This film is a testament to the power of excellent and competent journalism in uncovering the truth and holding those in power accountable. All the President’s Men is not just a long story about the downfall of Nixon’s presidency, but also reveals many of the initial key events that later led us to that event. This film does not spoon-feed by providing direct answers or explanations to the audience, but we are taken into it to follow the characters as they are busy seeking the truth and all that is hidden in the political jungle.
William Goldman’s script is tight as hell. It addresses the issue so realistically while brilliantly disguising it as a sophisticated detective thriller. He masterfully blends boring facts with mystery, constantly keeping us involved and never losing the story. That makes this perhaps one of the best procedural films ever done, and what I admire about it is that it confronts its subject matter without frills and adds fictitious distractors to liven things up. It stays focused on the work at hand and, like the journalists featured in the story, is determined to deliver the account as accurately as possible.
With so much talk and discourse that come with names and procedural details, All the President’s Men has a lot of details playing at once. The film, however, never loses its momentum, with creeping anxiety and suspense increasing as each discussion becomes more significant. Meanwhile, the truth becomes more difficult to locate, thanks to alternative news surfacing everywhere, false information through tv, “non-denial denials”, and informants who only give hints rather than clear explanations.
One thing that never ceases to surprise me is how this film manages to be a thriller without actually being a thriller. There are no typical thrills here, except maybe from a brief fear following one of the encounters with Deep Throat. Yet, for the most part, there is an aura of suspense and danger flowing through it that you don’t really shake until the very final reel.
What really stands out are the performances that make this film as good as it is. Each reflects the real-life tenacity and determination of the film’s protagonists’ real counterparts. Each actor truly embodies the characters they play, especially Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford. Hoffman and Redford are entirely involved in their characters, approaching them without adding anything extraneous. The tremendous amount of natural charm these two possess is like a cherry on top.
For example, the scene where Dustin Hoffman is speaking with a librarian about books checked out by the White House over the phone. He says nothing when he realizes she has abruptly changed her statement after she has been gone from the phone for a few seconds. He simply listens and doesn’t say anything as she digs a deeper and deeper hole for herself. His reaction is perfect; he keeps scribbling his notes and lets her continue until she’s finished.
Alan J. Pakula appears to understand one thing very well here: if you want to convey a narrative as complex as this one, you must ensure that the audience listens to those telling it. He accomplishes this excellently by allowing for a lot of discussion without being forced. He exclusively appears to be documenting what is going on, lending the picture an important feeling of authenticity. In doing so, he ensures that he surrounds himself with the greatest talent possible, resulting in one absolutely memorable and astonishingly well-performed scene after another.
Pakula’s use of purposely vague visual and narrative components is maybe the best tactic done here. There’s a lot indicated here that isn’t directly said, and that adds to the overall persuasiveness. One of the best examples is the underlying suggestion that Woodward and Bernstein are being closely monitored by government officials at every stage of their investigation. This isn’t explicitly shown, but is frequently heavily implied through a sudden change of tack during a phone call, someone inexplicably changing their story mid-way through a conversation, or a palpable sense of unease during Woodward’s high-tension meetings with his anonymous source — Deep Throat — in an underground parking garage.
There’s one scene in particular where Woodward is spooked and exits the garage while continually glancing over his shoulder, convinced that someone is following him. Although he does not see anyone, and neither do we as viewers, it is definitely implied that someone is observing from the shadows. It’s an unnerving and beautifully photographed scene that makes excellent use of the power of suggestion.
The way Pakula shoots many of these scenes is fascinating. In the library, there’s this incredible soaring overhead shot of Hoffman and Redford. All of these shots are taking us out of the action and giving the journalists their own space as they work, ensuring that we only see and hear what we need to know. It’s an incredible directing performance. There is not one scene where I’m not glued to the screen even if it’s just people talking in the office, talking over the phones, typing on typewriters, and it’s still captivating. It’s the very same feeling as I watched similar scenes in David Fincher’s Zodiac.
Even though nearly 80% of the movie is just a bunch of scenes where Woodward and Bernstein sit behind their desks — sleeves rolled up, collars unbuttoned, drinking coffee, scouring through records, pounding on the keys of their typewriters furiously, and discussing their questions with contacts who keep trying to duck them — this film manages to keep viewers’ attention throughout.
If you were to sum up the film in a few words, it would sound boring as hell, when the truth is it’s the complete opposite. This is all thanks to the passionate performances of Redford and Hoffman, as well as a brilliantly composed score by David Shire, a well-written and compelling script by William Goldman, some genuinely iconic camerawork from renowned cinematographer Gordon Willis, and the masterful directing by Alan J. Pakula.
— To those who haven’t watched the film and are not familiar with the Watergate scandal, I strongly advise to do a little research before watching it to avoid some confusion.—
