Network
When I first watched Sidney Lumet’s “Network” in, say, 1997-98, I was not as media literate as I’d like to think that I am now. That’s a truth that goes with how I watched a lot of movies in that era, and I try to reflect that when I write about them now. Even with that realization, “Network” has only become more and more relevant as the decades have gone on, and more and more is known about the news as entertainment complex. The fact that we haven’t had someone straight up assassinated by a network at this point is slightly surprising, but I have no doubt some have thought about it.
The engine driving “Network” is not Lumet’s direction- which is exemplary- but the screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky. One of the things I had forgotten about “Network” is how resolutely its structured as the story of Howard Beale, played by Peter Finch, who won a posthumous Oscar for his performance. And yet, Beale is a side character in his own story, which is dominated by people whom control his fate more than he does. At the beginning, news anchor Beale learns that he only has two weeks left on the air as his ratings sag. The next broadcast, he says that, in a week’s time, he will kill himself on air. The next thing the network knows, his ratings are going up. The more unhinged Beale gets, the better for business he is. Soon, the news is swallowed up by the need to be entertaining, and accountability to the public is lost.
I had forgotten that Robert Duvall was in this movie. I remembered William Holden as Max Schumacher, UBS’s longtime news producer, and Faye Dunaway as Diana Christensen, the programming executive who sees the ratings value of Beale, and finds herself heading the charge towards taking over the news division, or at least revamping it to make it sexier for audiences. Duvall plays Frank Hackett, an executive for whom the bottom line is what matters, especially when it comes to the company head above him (Ned Beatty) and his desires. One of my favorite journalism movies is Ron Howard’s “The Paper,” and it’s interesting seeing Duvall in his role here vs. as the weary editor who’s trying to manage the newsroom egos and what will make deadline. Hackett is a little more like Tom Reagan, Duvall’s character in “The Godfather” movies, someone who- when killing Beale becomes a possible solution to their dilemma at the end (Beale’s ratings are sagging, but Beatty’s character wants him on)- has no qualms about hearing ideas. After all, this is a business, not personal.
Nobody learns that lesson harder than Schumacher, who is concerned about Beale as a friend, but is forced to trot him out there, even as his mental breakdown gets harder and harder to witness. To the network, Beale means ratings, his own wellbeing be damned. This is the truth that Lumet and Chayefsky get to most hilariously, and most heartbreakingly- a human life is distilled down to its importance to the company’s bottom line, not their humanity. The ending for both characters is inevitable, because Schumacher lost his humanity for some sense of feeling a physical connection with Diana that was missing from his dull marriage to his wife (played by the wonderful Beatrice Straight), only to find it again when all Diana wants to talk about is profitability. And Beale finds his clarity again, only to have it snuffed out because he’s costing the network money. It’s fascinating how honest the film still is, and how turbocharged things have gotten further over the decades.
