Sidney Lumet’s Network (1976)

"I am mad as hell and I’m not going take it anymore!” With these twelve words, screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky engraved his name in film history. Network is one of the most potent criticisms of the media and continues to be, even thirty years later. Directed by Sidney Lumet (Dog Day Afternoon, 12 Angry Men) in 1976, the film brilliantly explores the dark side of corporate media through the brilliant performances by Peter Finch, William Holden, Beatrice Straight, Robert Duvall, Faye Dunaway, and Ned Beatty.

Howard Beale (Finch) is the news anchor for the poorly rated UBS station. After learning he is going to be fired, Beale announces on air that he will commit suicide a week later. Although at first the company is outraged, enter entertainment head Diana Christensen (Dunaway), who sees Beale’s insanity not as a problem, but as an entertainment grab. As news head Max Schumacher (Holden) fights against Diana’s idea, he is subsequently removed from his post.

But at the center of all this is the lunatic Beale. Beale continues to go on air, ranting numerous times about the tumultuous events that seem to be creating fear around the country. Then, in one news program, he tells people to announce their anger to the world (thus the famous quote), and Christensen locks on to his power, creating the true spectacle of the show. What I find interesting is how audiences react to Beale. Beale shouts important rants on how we can deal with the problems of the world. He is giving the answers. But do people listen? No, they simply go on watching the show and eating their dinners.

Somehow, Network predicted how the world of television would shape the next thirty years. Chayefsky seemed to be the real “mad prophet of the airwaves.” He knew exactly how television worked back then and how we seem to follow the same patterns today. We still care only for ratings. News programs still focus on getting ratings through entertainment instead of quality journalism.

At the same time as Beale is giving his prophetic speeches, Diana begins an affair with Max. She seems to live life on the dangerous side all the time, as seen by her idea for a reality show following the lives a terrorist group (obviously inspired by the American terrorist group, the Symbionese Liberation Army). It seems over the top, but it doesn’t seem unreasonable in today’s strange world of news.

The power of performance is something Network seems to master. Two performances in particular achieved so much in so little time. Beatrice Straight only appears on screen for five minutes as Max’s wife. But her conviction as a woman hurt, but not surprised, by her husband’s affair is so convincing, so real, that it works (Straight’s Oscar win is the shortest screen time win of all time). Then there’s Ned Beatty as the executive of UBS who delivers a powerful monologue: “There is only IBM, and ITT, and AT&T, and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today,” he shouts at Beale.

Though most people reference Finch’s performance (who won the Oscar posthumously) as the standout, Holden’s for me remains the more subtle and actually more curious performance. Holden remains a moral conscience for us, but at the same time he is no better than others. Though he cares about Beale and real journalism, his engagement in the affair shows his vulnerability. When Max finally realizes he’s wrong, he gives a great monologue that shows his conviction to the world of TV. “And it's a happy ending: Wayward husband comes to his senses, returns to his wife, with whom he has established a long and sustaining love. Heartless young woman left alone in her arctic desolation. Music up with a swell; final commercial. And here are a few scenes from next week's show.”

Like any good TV show, as Diana would suggest, Network ends in a murder. It’s not a surprise though; we see the executives openly, and cynically, discuss how they can end the Beale show to save the ratings. The decision is made that Beale will be assassinated for the new terrorist reality show. What I find so fascinating about this scene is the complete lack of morality. Only at one point does one member suggest what they are doing is capital punishment. The world of Network is one without morals. It is simply about what we can do to increase ratings. It is the world we live in today, where capitalism undermines our moral conscience.

Network is a direct attack on corporate media. Somehow, despite its strong message delivered through powerful performances, people fail to listen. And what has happened to our news media? It has only gotten worse. Sometimes films can make a difference. Sometimes it will try and right a wrong. Unfortunately, no one has listened and TV continued to dominate. But as long as people continually see Network, there’s hope. And as long as someone is mad as hell, and not going to take it anymore, there’s a chance for change.

Peter Labuza
Film Club Co-President

Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1983)

It’s a simple question: What makes us human? At this point, you could have about fifty different answers: our physical structure; our ability to rationalize, to think, to have memories, to feel emotions, to dream, to hope. To love. But in the end, your ability to believe you are human could simply be a conscious dream. There is nothing you can truly do to prove to yourself that you are more than possibly a machine. Blade Runner asks us this question: How can we know we are truly human?

Directed by Ridley Scott (Alien, Gladiator) and adapted from the famous novel by Phillip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Blade Runner is possibly the greatest science fiction film ever put to screen. It is visually stunning, creating a bleak, dystopic vision of Los Angeles in 2019. It is a hybrid of genres, taking a science fiction story and forming itself as a film noir. It constantly uses visual cues, brilliant monologues, and a wonderful storyline to ask us to explore our humanity. And it is also the film that defined the importance of the director’s cut. Originally released in 1982 to mundane applause, Ridley Scott made his intended version of the film in 1992, away from Hollywood’s grasp, making Blade Runner into a cult classic.

The film begins with a title card telling us of our bleak future. It is 2019, and for years a giant corporation has been producing replicants, androids that are identical or greater in every single way to humans, including intelligence and physical capabilities. Used mainly for slave labor on off-world planets, replicants finally realized their own capabilities and began a mutiny. They were finally banned on Earth and “retired” by an elite group of police called blade runners. Rick Deckard, played by Harrison Ford (Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark), used to be one of these blade runners. Deckard’s adventure begins as five replicants come to Los Angeles, hoping to find a way to cure death, as replicants have an expiration date. Deckard, recovering from his divorce, is put back on the force with the task of hunting these men down, while closely being watched by a man named Gaff. The world is dark and grim, but Deckard seems to be unmoved by this, simply hoping to get his job done.

The vision of the future that Scott has set is breathtaking. The world is covered with lights and pollution, not a utopia as other directors have imagined. If Star Wars was the first to show an unclean future, Blade Runner took it to the extreme. Though some areas may be pristine perfect, other areas show Los Angeles as a dilapidated hole, not renovated in years. Scott also comments on the integration of Japanese culture into the United States. In the film, a majority of the population appears to be Japanese and most advertisements feature Japanese. In the 1980s, it was largely believed that Japan would overtake the United States in economic power, a belief still held today by many, and Blade Runner shows that fear and anxiety well.

Blade Runner also plays with the ideas between science fiction and film noir. Many influences of both classics like The Maltese Falcon or neo noir like Chinatown can be seen in this film. It is full of dark and shady visuals. We follow the film from a single protagonist (who in the original cut has a narration) that had a shady moral outlook. There is a femme fatale. The score is a mix of futuristic tones and jazz, as created by the famous Vangelis. And finally there is the question of corruption, seen by almost every person that dominates this screen.

Speaking of film noir and more specifically, femme fatales, the character of Rachael (Sean Young) is one that haunts my mind. While visiting the replicant corporation, the head introduces Rachael to Deckard as his secretary, but she is actually a replicant who doesn’t know her identity as one. Implanted with the memories of the boss’s niece, Rachael has no idea that her life is simply a machine. Which brings me to the major philosophy of this film. If Rachael, a woman who can love, emote, and have memories among other qualities, does not know she is simply a machine, how can we know what we are not? How can we perceive our reality as a human to be actually real?

Eyes play a major role in this film as a symbol for perception. The opening sequence is an eye reflected upon the city. People’s eyes light up. This is important for Scott’s film, because this is the medium in which we perceive our own reality. Our brain is designed to think that if we can see it, it is probably real. But in Blade Runner, we perceive Rachael originally to be real. Our eyes can deceive us, just as any body part of us can. We can only trust in the soul.

But the question that remains incontrovertible to the entire film is the reality of our main protagonist. Unlike most directors’ cuts, Scott only changed three small parts to his film. First he removed the narration the producers demanded he put in. Second, he removed the happy ending footage of Deckard and Rachael driving into the sun (which was actually extra footage from The Shining). And finally, he added a small scene where Deckard dreams about a unicorn. The importance of this dream can be seen at the end, when Gaff leaves a small origami of a unicorn outside his apartment. Gaff throughout the film leaves small origami figures like the unicorn to toy with Deckard’s emotions, but the unicorn proves that Gaff knows about his dream of the unicorn. And if Gaff knows without ever telling him, then his dreams may have all been implanted. Thus, the ultimate question of this film is: Could Deckard by a replicant?

It is a shocking revelation to think about it, but it makes complete sense if Deckard was simply created as a replicant to hunt other replicants. If film noirs are all about untrustworthy narrators, what is more perfect than a narrator who doesn’t know he isn’t human? But what does this mean for us as an audience? It’s a shock to think about Rachael’s existence but if our main character, a man we have come to trust for the last two hours, was nothing but another corporate machine sent to do a human’s job, how can we trust our own reality? What makes us human? What separates man from machine?

The other major intellectual fight is the one for immortality. Our antagonist for the picture is Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), the leader and wisest of the replicants. Roy wants nothing more than to stop the expiration date he is designed with. It is this fight for survival, for human existence, for preserving one’s memories that remain the emotional heart of this film. The final monologue by Roy is one that amazes me every time: “I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.” I find Batty to be the most complex character, and maybe the most well developed antagonist in any film I have ever seen.

Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner is an epic and philosophical science fiction masterpiece that will probably never be equaled. This is a film that I find perplexing every single time, and makes me wish I could somehow assert my humanity to the world. But as Scott suggests, it is impossible to assert our own humanity. There is no way we can ever know we are truly human. But this is not just a philosophical film, Scott has used visuals, motifs, and a film noir story to adapted to his theories on life, death, and meaning. Blade Runner is one of those few films that will be etched into your mind for years to come, a masterpiece of the highest magnitude, responding to the mind through entertainment, visual appeal, and philosophical terms.

Peter Labuza
Film Club Co-President