Rating: R
Runtime: 2 hours, 9 minutes
Director: Aaron Sorkin
Quick Impressions:
There are some huge gaps in my knowledge of American history, and this movie covers yet another of them. I’ve been ridiculously excited to see The Trial of the Chicago 7 because it’s a potential Best Picture contender that we can watch at home on Netflix. It actually released last week, but it premiered on Friday, and our date night is Thursday, so for me, the anticipation has been building for days. And yet if you had asked me before the movie, “Say, Sarah, what is this film about?” I would have been forced to answer vaguely, “Eddie Redmayne…and some…buildings…?” (I must have seen a thumbnail on Netflix.)
Before watching this movie I knew nothing about the trial of the Chicago 7. Well, I mean, I knew that it was a trial related to events in Chicago in the late 1960s. That’s all. (Isn’t that sad?) I’ve somehow never taken a history class that covered the United States from 1960 to the present. As an adult, I’ve tried to fill in the gaps, but it’s tough to fill a gap until you notice it.
Now I was familiar with Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin (their names, their looks, their personas, the title Steal This Book), but all the rest was new to me. (The name Tom Hayden also sounded familiar, but had no distinct person attached to it that I could recall.)
Believe it or not, this happens to me all the time. On an almost daily basis I learn information completely new to me. And I think, “How did I not know anything about this?” And I despair because I’m secretly trying to learn everything that is, and I don’t seem to be making much of a dent.
Even to someone as unfamiliar with the historical events depicted as I am, though, it’s almost impossible not to see why somebody decided to make this movie now. The parallels to today’s political climate are unmistakable. The Chicago 7 are on trial for inciting violence and starting a riot near the Democratic National Convention. But their defenders suggest that, in fact, the police are the ones who incited violence and started a riot in response to a peaceful protest.
This is an engaging, often gripping film that I would have gladly watched for twice it’s two hour (and nine minute) runtime. The events explored are fascinating. The characters make a big impression. And, of course, the dialogue is good. It’s written by Aaron Sorkin.
I would also expect supporting actors Sacha Baron Cohen and Mark Rylance to be serious contenders for Oscars themselves, especially Cohen. The cast is stacked with terrific actors, but these two are standouts. And playing the most exasperating judge who ever sat on the bench, Frank Langella is awfully good, too.
The Good:
I would not have guessed that Aaron Sorkin wrote and directed this movie. (I watched the whole thing not knowing. I didn’t notice his name until the end credits.)
The only other film actually directed by Sorkin that I’ve seen is 2017 Molly’s Game (a movie I enjoyed enough to read the book that inspired it). I think I liked Molly’s Game better than a lot of people did, but this film seems…
Better.
As always, Sorkin’s writing is engaging, witty, informative, and powerful, but while Molly’s Game felt extremely artificial (like people delivering lines that were far too polished and clever to be natural), The Trial of the Chicago 7 seems more like most dramas. You lose yourself in the story and believe in the reality of the world you see on screen. It is contrived, but it doesn’t feel that way. I have no expertise in directing, but as a viewer, I would say this is a substantial improvement over Sorkin’s last effort.
The performances are fantastic, and the cast is huge. It’s one of those casts that just doesn’t stop, too. Pretty late in the movie, Michael Keaton randomly turns up. (I like that because the character clearly sees himself as a star, and surely the actor does, too. It’s a nice little metadramatic flourish. Suddenly he’s sitting there, delighted to show us, “Haha! I’m Michael Keaton! I’m the October surprise of this movie!)
For some reason, I was unable to recognize Cohen and Rylance which is particularly odd because 1) I spent the whole movie trying, and 2) they’re not heavily disguised. They pretty much look just like themselves. Now, in my own defense, I never recognize Mark Rylance. Invariably, I see him and think, “Who is this actor? I don’t know him, but he’s giving such a strong performance. Can he really be an unknown giving such a strong performance?” Apparently someone hypnotized me and erased Rylance from my memory. I do this every time he’s in a movie.
At this point, you must be reading this review and thinking, “Wow, what does she know? Anything???” (This sounds pretty bad for me, I’ll admit. I don’t know anything about the historical event. I didn’t know Sorkin directed. I can’t recognize any of the actors!) I couldn’t recognize Jeremy Strong as Jerry Rubin, either, and I was actually thinking about him a lot earlier this year when I enjoyed his performance as Matthew in The Gentlemen.
But here’s the thing. Knowing so little did not detract from my enjoyment of the movie one bit. (You know sometimes you go into a film watching it just for a star or because you’re interested in an issue?) Even for someone going in clueless like me, this movie is so entertaining right from the start, immediately engaging. And it also features fine performances from actors I did recognize like Joseph Gordon- “You know it will be good if he’s in it” Levitt, Frank Langella, Eddie Redmayne, John Carroll Lynch, John Doman, and J.C. MacKenzie. (I didn’t remember Alex Sharp’s name, but I liked him in The Hustle, and he’s also good here in a vastly different kind of role.)
Langella plays a character so frustrating that it’s almost absurd. His ridiculous, exasperating judge kept making me think of the interactions between Joe Pesci and Fred Gwynne in My Cousin Vinnie. Associations like that make the situation feel even more frustrating because this movie isn’t a comedy. There is no misunderstanding and no happy ending (in the Hollywood sense) here. Langella isn’t citing the defense attorney with contempt because hahahahaha. This is really what happened in an American courtroom during a federal trial. It’s sickening. Of course, at least we can take comfort in the fact that we’ve made improvements, and now everything is fair in the United States, right?
Two other excellent performances in this film come from Kelvin Harris, Jr. (who seemed like he was in every movie that almost got nominated for an Oscar but didn’t in the last couple of years) and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (who I remember best as Manta from Aquaman because the spellcheck in my note app kept changing his name to Yaya Manatee until I almost broke my phone in a blinding rage). He has much better material here than he got in Aquaman.
Harris plays Fred Hampton, the leader of the Black Panthers. I loved the performance and wanted the character to be in the movie more. I think that’s a great strength of the performance actually. Harris makes you want Hampton to be involved longer. When he is gone, you miss him.
Abdul-Mateen gets possibly the best moment of the entire movie as the eighth member of the Chicago 7 (who, as he keeps saying, barely knows the others and has nothing to do with them), Bobby Seale. (The film’s most pleasant and shocking surprise actually comes in what we learn about Seale in the end credits. Given what we know about our justice system in the 1960s and the way we see this character treated on screen, we’re like, “Well there’s a pleasant shock.”)
I could quite easily see Abdul-Mateen pulling off a nomination here, too. It seems harder for Harris because his part is smaller, and he leaves the film early. But critics and Oscar bloggers love his work in general, so who knows.
Best Scene:
This is tough. The whole movie is excellent. I personally love the moment when Abdul-Mateen’s character gets fed up with the absurd way the judge is treating him. This moment (and what happens in its aftermath) is the most shocking and attention-grabbing thing in the movie, which is crazy because it doesn’t even have anything to do with the crime the Chicago 7 are supposedly on trial for. The energy here makes it clear that they’re really on trial for something else.
Runner up is the final speech that ends the trial and the film.
Best Scene Visually:
What Hoffman and Rubin wear to court one day is simply amazing. What I love most about their costumes is that surely they’re historically authentic. This is not something the filmmakers dreamed up. This flash of defiant, hilarious, obnoxious brilliance belongs to two extremely dedicated activists of the 1960s. What they did worked so well that I saw it reenacted on TV in 2020. Had they been less aware of what was happening to them and how to take advantage of that free publicity, then maybe no one even would have made this movie. I love the idea that defiant acts can be so on point that they continue working decades later. What Hoffman and Rubin do when they wear those costumes is not in the slightest bit violent, but it beautifully draws attention to the injustice being done in that courtroom and beyond.
Best Action Sequence:
I like the moment when Jerry Rubin comes to the aid of the woman with the flag. We see how utterly out of control and against all logic things have become as the police and the mob pit themselves against one another in the park.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Sacha Baron Cohen:
Cohen doesn’t have a bad moment. I love his performance. I wish I liked Borat. I’m still resentful that I paid to see the first Borat movie twice even though I didn’t like it at all. I had to come back because I kept vomiting the first time. (The movie’s not to blame for that. I just showed symptoms of a stomach bug for the first time as the trailers played.) I’m not thrilled with the idea of not only looking for the worst in people, but (going further) using psychological ploys to coax them into the worst versions of themselves. I also think highlighting your own country’s flaws is perhaps in better taste than picking on a country you’re not from, but I’ll acknowledge that the United States sort of belongs to everyone since it has so much influence in the world. Also I just don’t think Borat‘s very funny. I would forgive the other two things I just mentioned if it made me laugh hysterically, but it didn’t.
So anyway, I’m not a fan of Borat although I do appreciate that Cohen uses the character to shine a light on social injustice and dangerous hypocrisy in our society. (Will I watch the new Borat movie? Yes. Probably. I usually give people 80,000 chances to win me over.)
But I have always liked Cohen in almost every non-Borat role. (Well, going further, playing every character he did not create himself.) I’m not crazy about him as a writer/creator, but he’s a good actor. He’s memorably good in Hugo, Les Misérables, Sweeney Todd, and, especially, Madagascar. He’s a talented guy. His own comedy is just (usually) not for me. (For what it’s worth, I like his wife.)
He’s Oscar worthy here, or at least worthy of consideration. It helps that he has the best part. As I said earlier, Hoffman is one of the few people involved in this event that I’m actually familiar with. So the character himself is big and memorable. Cohen has great material to work with, fantastic lines (for which he no doubt has both the historical Hoffman and writer Aaron Sorkin to thank).
His testimony on the stand is nothing short of phenomenal. If that’s not his best moment, then his argument with another character just before is.
But the whole movie really belongs to Cohen (or maybe to Hoffman). He brings the perfect energy to the role, and his performance gives the late Hoffman another huge platform. He’ll get his message out to even more people now.
Because I’m a narcissist who loves thinking about myself, I find it fascinating that Borat‘s style of comedy offends me, but I love what Hoffman and Rubin do in this movie. I mean, obviously they’re doing the same kind of thing. Is it the distance of decades that makes the difference for me? Hmmmm….
(I’m not really a narcissist, just an empath given to self-reflection, introspection, and self-deprecating jokes.)
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Mark Rylance:
Rylance’s defense attorney Kunstler is one of my favorite characters in the film. He’s so sympathetic, and Rylance gives a performance that isn’t flashy or scene stealing in any way. He just quietly plays the character. He’s so good.
I love the moment when Keaton’s character takes the stand, the absolute desperation and incomprehension on Rylance’s face as he listens to the judge. Rylance has such an expression of, “How can this be reality? How these things be happening inside an American courtroom?”
The Negatives:
Eddie’s Redmayne’s face is plastered all over the ads for this movie, which is funny, honestly, because in the movie, they’re always floating the idea of letting his character take the stand because he’s the clean-cut, honest-looking one who seems most likely to appeal to a jury. I mean, clearly, the actor is being used to sell the film.
Of course, Redmayne is a good actor. I kind of hated The Theory of Everything, but even I thought his performance as the gradually deteriorating Stephen Hawking was tremendous (especially given that the scenes were filmed out of order). I like him as Newt Scamander, too. (I haven’t seen The Danish Girl because my son was born, which disrupted the 2015 awards season for me. I’m still catching up on those films.)
The point is, I like Redmayne well enough and think he’s a good actor, but he gives one of the least exciting performances in this film. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s perfectly serviceable. It just kind of left me flat, especially when I see the other, more electric performances of his co-stars and know the kind of work Redmayne is capable of. (I do think, however, that in context, what his character means in one key moment is absolutely clear. Even out of context, if not clear that it means one thing, at the very least, it’s also not clear that it means something else. You’ll understand when you see the movie.)
Also–this isn’t actually a strike against the film, just something odd–there aren’t very many women in this movie. I don’t consider that a negative because this is based on a historical event, and the main players in that event are all men. I actually find it refreshing that the movie doesn’t try to cram in a lot of romance that leads us down pointless rabbit holes and away from the main plot. I do think there would have been room to develop the Daphne O’Connor character a bit more, especially because this connection seemed so meaningful to Jerry Rubin. It looks to me like Sorkin noticed there were few women central to the story, so he made sure to include a bunch of minor female characters in brief roles–Bernadine, the various wives and girlfriends, Juror #6. That’s fine. But I do think Daphne could have been built up just a bit (assuming she is a real historical person. I think that she is, but I need to read more about these events). She is directly involved in what happened, and I personally wanted to know more about her.
I also wanted to know more about Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character. I found him puzzling. What are we to make of him? Since he doesn’t approve of racially motivated torture in the courtroom, is he a good guy who can feel okay about all of his career decisions? We either need more or less about him. (I like the performance, though.)
The judge is frustrating, too. Why is he is so crazy? Is he just a kooky old weirdo? Has he just grown cantankerous with age? Presumably he believes the defendants are guilty immediately because he resents their methods and ideas. He stands for something, and he feels they are his ideological enemies. But is that it? Was he getting pressure of some kind from the Nixon administration or from someone else? And how many Americans at that time would have agreed with the judge’s sentiments?
Also what is going on with Bobby Seale’s lawyer? Seale is right. He doesn’t belong in this trial. We need a separate movie about him. Too many things happen to Seale and his associates completely off camera. And some of them feel like a way more interesting story than the story we’re already watching (which is already pretty interesting).
And then, I wondered, too, why does the end of the movie only tell us about what happened to some of the characters later on? Some of them are just pointedly omitted.
Overall:
The Trial of the Chicago 7 is one of the best movies I’ve seen this year. (Now keep in mind, I’ve only seen about ten movies, and I’ve liked all of them.) The performances are good (especially Sacha Baron-Cohen’s). The subject matter is timely. The story is entertaining. Best of all, the movie is incredibly focused, and it will not waste your time. If you’re a Netflix subscriber, you should watch it now.