KRR: So, The Whole World is Watching 'The Trial of the Chicago 7.' Is That a Good Thing?

 

So, if you have Netflix or are generally clued into what's going on in the world of cinema, you may have heard that Aaron Sorkin - of West Wing, A Few Good Men, The Social Network fame - released a new movie over the weekend. And, if you're like me or the rest of general population in the world of cinema, that means you dropped your other weekend plans to watch it. While there's nothing quite like spending a few hours walking and talking with the many witty characters that populate most of Sorkin's work, this movie is a little different. There's a lot more sitting, and because of our moment in history (...October 2020), the stakes feel a lot, lot higher.

The Trial of the Chicago 7 follows the infamous 1969 trial of Tom Hayden, Rennie Davis, Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, David Dellinger, John Froines, Lee Weiner, and Bobby Seale. Basically, the who's who of the Anti-War Movement. They were tried for inciting riots in downtown Chicago during the Democratic National Convention of 1968 - riots that were largely responsible for blemishing the Democrats and, therefore, losing the election to Richard Nixon. However, contrary to what Nixon's Justice Department wanted the American public to believe, historians (and cooler heads) have proven beyond a "shadow of a doubt" that it was actually the Chicago Police Department that was responsible for inciting the riots. You can see why the prosecution of youth leaders, Black Panthers, and civil rights activists by a corrupt administration protecting an overly-militaristic police force might make for a very compelling and timely watch right about now. If you haven't watched it, I (as always) recommend you do before reading what's to come. 'Cause it's time to break down where The Trial of the Chicago 7 goes high and where it falls short. 

-SPOILERS AHEAD-

Walk with me for a minute. I have a lot to get off my chest. So, I like this movie. I like it a lot. I'm a big fan of Aaron Sorkin, I'm a bigger fan of courtroom dramas, and I'm the biggest fan of the 1960's Civil Rights & Anti-War Movements (maybe you knew?), which all leads me to say, it feels like this movie was created for me. And as the only "me" here, I guess that means it's my job to break it all down. For this film, that means looking into the characters, because in The Trial of the Chicago 7 - as in most Sorkin pieces - the characters tell the story.

So, if you're a meticulous reader, an avid historian, or just watched the movie, you may have realized that there are actually eight people on trial in this film, not seven. That's because Bobby Seale, the head of the Black Panthers, was originally tried with the seven others but wasn't represented by the same lawyer. He very publicly distanced himself from those white men and their causes. Also, you may not recognize the names Lee Weiner and John Froines. That's because they were pawns charged by the Justice Department so they'd have people to negotiate with. "We let two walk but convict the other six" - that kind of deal. This movie isn't about Lee or John. It's about the other six: the aforementioned Bobby Seale, played by Yahya Abdul-Mateen; Tom Hayden and Rennie Davis, the leaders of the Students for a Democratic Society, played by Eddie Redmayne and Alex Sharp; Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin, the leaders of the Yippies, played by Sacha Baron Cohen and Jeremy Strong; and Dave Dellinger, leader of the National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam, played by the greatest character actor of all time, John Carroll Lynch. 

The rest of the cast is rounded out by Mark Rylance as the Chicago Seven's attorney, William Kunstler; Frank Langella as the totally-completely-1000% off the rails Judge Hoffman (not to be confused with Abbie Hoffman, he'll be the first to tell you); Joseph Gordon-Levitt as lead prosecutor Richard Shultz; Kelvin Harrison Jr. as the head of Chicago's Black Panther chapter, Fred Hampton; and a very special cameo from Michael Keaton as former Attorney General Ramsey Clark.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Holy shit, that's a lot of names." Yes. Yes, it is. There are a lot of characters in this movie, which means in Sorkin terminology there are a lot of moving pieces. Get it? Funny, right? Just me? Okay. 

I don't exactly like this Redmayne performance, but few others could pull it off.

Anyway, back to the point I was making about the cast. It's great. It's as super-charged a cast as Sorkin could have asked for. Apparently, back before the Writers' strike in 2007, Spielberg was going to make this movie with Heath Ledger in the Tom Hayden role (which ultimately went to Redmayne) and Will Smith in the Bobby Seale role (which went to Abdul-Mateen). Now, I have about as much Ledger stock as humanly possible. He's an all-timer, one of the greatest to ever act on the big screen. But Tom Hayden isn't the role for him. (Nor is Bobby Seale the role for Will Smith, but that's a whole different can of worms.) Ledger is too likable to play Hayden, a role that demands you root for him but not love him.

Tom Hayden, the shirt-tucked-in future State Senator who embodied liberal respectability politics, is one of the film's two protagonists, but he isn't the more likable one. That honor goes to Sacha Baron Cohen's Abbie Hoffman, the charismatic, free-loving rebel who would become a caricature of the hippies. Hoffman was divisive. He was loud. He was anything but respectable. Much has been made about Abbie Hoffman and the question of his ultimate desire: fame or a revolution. The Trial of the Chicago 7 certainly doesn't shy away from that. 

The brain of this movie lies with Tom Hayden, which means in a logical courtroom drama, he is the hero. But Abbie Hoffman is the heart which, in a strange opposition to Hayden, doesn't quite make him the villain but rather the anti-hero. The actual villain in this movie, besides the police, of course, is Judge Hoffman.

Just go ahead and give SBC the Oscar.

There's no better way to say it, so I'll just come right out with it: Judge Hoffman is fully fucking unhinged. The entire movie, Blair was just constantly yelling, "MISTRIAL! MISTRIAL!" Actually, you know what? Here's Blair. I'll just have them tell it:

First of all, what the fuck? Judge Hoffman is an absolute nightmare. I'll start off with the "light" stuff: The moment where Langella says "Sustained" when no one objected? Real impartial judicial process, that's for sure. The blatant jury tampering? The many, many times Seale is denied his legal right to counsel? The refusal to hear any evidence beneficial to the defence but every piece that favoured the prosecution? Yikes. None of this flies. But the most nightmarish part is when he literally has Seale bound, gagged, and beaten. It's horrifying and heart-wrenching, and it's still a massive understatement of what actually happened. In the on-screen depiction, prosecutor Schultz was (rightfully) horrified upon seeing Seale re-enter the courtroom, gagged and chained to the desk, and immediately requested a sidebar to ask that Seale's case be declared a mistrial. In reality, Seale was bound and gagged for days before this was formally declared. This movie doesn't shy away from showing police brutality, but it definitely didn't show the extent of that violence against people of colour. In the end, we all hate Hoffman. (At the time, his peers didn't even believe he was competent.) But goddamn is he portrayed well by Langella.

Thank you, Blair. That allowed me to save my energy for my own monologue about Michael Keaton's seven-minute stretch. He has an absolutely incredible double scene appearance in this movie. Michael Keaton comes in, takes the fire from Frank Langella, the smirk from Sacha Baron Cohen, and just walks all over everybody. In the middle of a pig-circus trial where vengeful acts of racism befell a defendant, clear cut jury tampering occurred, and a belligerent judge clearly handicapped the defense, I actually found myself smiling because Michael Keaton is just that fucking good. Of course, none of Ramsey Clark's testimony matters in the real courtroom decision, so we don't get to see any more of Keaton in the movie, but for that little stretch he's in, it's a wonderful, wonderful thing.

While we're talking about "wonderful things," it's only fitting we jump to Jeremy Strong's portrayal of the highest man in America, Jerry Rubin. I know you're probably wondering if I'll ever stop talking about the actors of this movie and begin talking about something else (the answer is no), so I'll just keep this short: Jeremy Strong is a legitimate national treasure that needs to be protected at all costs. If Abbie is the heart and Hayden is the brain, then Jerry Rubin is the soul of this group. Or maybe he's actually the heart. I don't know. I think I lost control of that metaphor. Regardless, Jeremy Strong is an absolute delight to watch. 

Fuck it. Give him the other Oscar.

Okay, let's fly through the rest of this cast. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is the lead prosecutor - it's an eh performance. I've liked him a lot more in a lot of other roles. Mark Rylance playing Mark Rylance - it's great. Shocker, right? John Carroll Lynch playing the Big Friendly Giant - amazing, absolutely incredible, a tour de force, a hallmark role in the career of one of the greatest actors of all time. He's still the Zodiac killer, though, so, ya know. 

And last but certainly not least: Yahya Abdul-Mateen as the legendary Bobby Seale. I saved this one for last because it's Seale's character where the movie begins to unravel for me, and the unravelling of the movie is what you've all been waiting for. You didn't read this far just to hear me say that everyone was great. (Which they weren't. Eddie Redmayne's American accent is so bad it makes Sacha's look good.) On the acting front, Yahya really is - without jest this time - a tour de force. He's running circles around just about every person in the cast, with the exception of Strong, Cohen, and Langella. If this performance is any indication of where Abdul-Mateen wants to take his Hollywood career, then we are in for one hell of a ride. 

However, that poses a problem for The Trial of the Chicago 7, because halfway through the film, after months of pleading with the Court, Bobby Seale is granted a mistrial and legally severed from the proper Chicago 7. And either because Aaron Sorkin didn't realize how great Yahya was or because he didn't know how to fix the plot, we don't see Seale again. He's just gone. The movie is, after all, about the Chicago 7, of which Seale was not a part. But that means there's an undeniably noticeable void immediately left by the departure of Yahya Abdul-Mateen and Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Fred Hampton. 

In many ways, the story of these Black Panthers is more interesting that what happens to their white counterparts, not to mention more timely. I'm not saying the entire movie should've been restructured around Bobby Seale and Fred Hampton. That would be too big an ask; I understand that. But there must be some way for Seale and the Panthers to be included in the rest of the movie. To exclude them entirely from the last hour of the movie is preposterous. Their inclusion in this movie should not be seen as a luxury. It should be seen as a necessity. 

And give Yahya the third Oscar.

And that's where I have problems with The Trial of the Chicago 7 - not in what it says, but in what it doesn't. Tom Hayden should not be the hero of this film. For better or for worse, Abbie Hoffman should be. Tom Hayden is a representative of the liberal policies that valued compromise over change. Abbie is a representative of the unpolished, incendiary ideas that nearly started a real-time revolution. And right now, it is my honest opinion that America needs more of the latter than the former. The Haydens of the States had their time to shine. It didn't work. This movie is so timely precisely because Tom Hayden and Rennie Davis succeeded in compromising rather than changing. Police still kill in the streets. Voters are still suppressed. The Justice system is more corrupt than ever. What we need is change. And maybe Sacha Baron Cohen in The Dude's garb, portraying an ego-maniac who shot himself when the revolution died, isn't quite the representative America wants for that change. But maybe he's what America needs. (And I'm not just saying that because I'm writing this with a mess of hair raining down upon my own bathrobe.)

Aaron Sorkin is 59 years old. I adore him. Truly, I do. But he isn't the voice we need to be listening to right now. We need more of the Bobby Seales and Abbie Hoffmans and less of the Tom Haydens. And that's where The Trial of the Chicago 7 falls short. As a picture, it has a myriad of star performances delivering cutting dialogue. It will be rightfully awarded for that come Oscar season. But as a social and political commentary, which it also very much is, it serves as nothing more than a misguided attempt to find comfort in the status quo of yesteryear. 

But it isn't 1969. It's 2020. We are far beyond that status quo now. It's time that we do something radical: change. If the whole world is watching your movie, please don't hold us back. Push us forward. 

Okay, but seriously, give these two the Oscars.

The Trial of the Chicago 7 KRR: 8/10