Network (1976)

Nominated for Best Picture of 1976, Network is perhaps most famous now for Howard Beale's cry, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore." But this film is better described as a pretty scathing indictment of the mentality of network television executives, particularly those with some influence over the news departments. There's sharp dialogue in the screenplay by Paddy Chayevsky (who was always known for his dialogue) and exceptional performances from all of the cast. I hadn't seen this film in at least two decades, but it seems just as fresh and insightful now as it did then. Actually, it's perhaps even more insightful now. Then, with only three major television networks, Network would have been seen as a satire on how television news might change. Now it's pretty accurate as to how the news has changed.

The great Peter Finch plays Howard Beale, the anchor for the UBS network, which is stuck in fourth place. He has what amounts to a nervous breakdown and announces on air that he will commit suicide in two weeks. Naturally, given the nature of the viewing public, that only increases his ratings. Suddenly, his show becomes the most talked-about newscast, and the network executives try their best to capitalize on his newfound popularity. They even change the name of the newscast to The Howard Beale Show and hire co-stars, including a psychic, to up the entertainment value. Faye Dunaway and William Holden, heads of the entertainment and news divisions, respectively, simultaneously begin an affair and an argument over the direction of the news programming. Their decisions have some severe repercussions for Howard, now tagged the "mad prophet of the airwaves," complete with blackouts after he delivers his prophecies each night. (Oddly enough, his most famous line doesn't even appear until almost halfway through the film, but it's the one everyone remembers.)

Finch and Dunaway both won Oscars for their performances, and it is Finch's Beale that you remember the most from the movie. He's amazing in the role, able to demonstrate quite the range of emotions for a man who has been a success for many years as a "serious journalist" but is now forced to become an object of public interest and/or ridicule. Holden is also stellar in his role as Max Schumacher, who tries valiantly to maintain some integrity in the news division and then decides to let go and allow whatever happens to occur. The opening scene with the two of them having a drunken conversation is hilarious. Dunaway is also fantastic here, all repressed emotions and obvious ambition; she fairly shakes with the prospect of her success at boosting ratings. In fact, she only seems to be able to achieve an orgasm when she is simultaneously talking about the amount of money that the network could make from her ideas. In a smaller role, Robert Duvall is mighty slick as the "new guy" at the network who has the weight of the company's success on his shoulders.

I'd like to mention two other performances, those by Beatrice Straight and Ned Beatty. Straight won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, even though she's only in the movie for two scenes, mere minutes really. The second scene is her showpiece. She gets to demonstrate the fury of the jilted wife to Holden's Max, and the depth of her anger is on full display here. She's really quite spectacular. Beatty was also nominated, and his part is, if you can believe it, even briefer than Straight's. He only speaks a few lines in the film, but they are certainly memorable. I only mention these performances because they do seem truly to demonstrate "supporting" parts, not key or main roles in the film which have been relegated to supporting status in order to win an award.

What is most remarkable about this film now is how much foresight the creators had. As just one example, I'd give Dunaway's staff meetings, where she wants shows created around the subject of terrorism or other "hot button" issues. She even has meetings with the Ecumenical Liberation Army, a proto-communist rebel organization, with the hopes of creating a weekly series around their exploits. (The scenes where the members of the Army and the network representatives and the attorneys for both sides try to iron out a contract are hilarious, by the way.) Is it really that much of a stretch to imagine someone at the networks making a similar pitch today? Look at the proliferation of so-called reality shows, and you'll have the answer.

Two moments in this film will always stand out for me. One is, of course, the scene of all of those people opening their windows and walking out onto their fire escapes in New York City to yell along with Beale: "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore." The sequence of images is breathtaking as the camera continues to pile on more and more people joining in the chorus. It makes a powerful statement on the influence of the media. The other is the beginning of the film (which is echoed at the end) of the four network news anchors side-by-side giving the evening's events. I used to watch John Chancellor on NBC, and no one was perhaps more famous that Walter Cronkite on CBS. I believe the ABC anchor at the time was Harry Reasoner. Beale joins them onscreen, and you are (or should be) quite astonished at how a few people (all men, all white) were the sole conduits for information on television then. It was, after all, B.C. (before cable) for most of us. How far we've come, indeed, and yet one must wonder if we've made all that much progress.