OPINION: Some things never change

On Monday, I chose for my evening movie to watch at home to be “All the President’s Men,” a 1976 movie about the journalists chronicling the Watergate scandal. I’m sure there’s no greater honor to a couple journalists than having Dustin Hoffman or Robert Redford portray you.

Watching “All the President’s Men” for the first time and a few years disconnected from my college education, I find myself somewhat kicking myself for not watching it sooner. As someone born 25 years after its release, I’m not exactly sure how I could have seen it organically, but that’s the curse I bear.

In 2018, my mom took me to see “The Post,” one of Steven Spielberg’s later and more simplistic movies, which covered the Washington Post’s publication of the Pentagon Papers. As someone who just turned 16 at the time, I might have been a little out of my element.

I wouldn’t say I was unaware of the world around me. I would be voting in the next federal election, and I was scrappy enough as a teenager to be politically-active against the first Trump presidency.

While I can’t remember if I made the connection between the Nixon administration’s bullish warnings against journalistic efforts to the “fake news” pot shots of Donald Trump, I certainly understood the pressure outlets faced at any given moment. There will always be scandal; there will always be a need for journalists.

So, as I sat down to watch “All the President’s Men,” with a college education in film and journalism now in me, I can’t help but feel so much genuine excitement at it.

We’re at the 50th anniversary of “All the President’s Men,” and while I can’t claim every movie about reporters or freedom of expression in the time since is inferior (there’s a lot of them, Hollywood loves these types of stories), I can say that “All the President’s Men” is the closest to understanding the thrill of journalism.

This isn’t to say I’m a reputable source of what journalism is supposed to feel like. Occasionally I do report tough news, but it usually stems from local government meetings or individuals reaching out to us. We don’t really have the time to do investigations in Creston, unfortunately.

Either way, the mood of scouring through documents looking for something specific or the blood-pumping feeling of hearing something no one else knows, that is captured beautifully in “All the President’s Men.”

To gush a little, I adore this movie. So many formal decisions are made with clear reasoning and methodology, I can’t help but want to list everything. The lack of score throughout the majority of the movie leaves room to the excellent soundscape, often filled through paper shuffling in a newsroom or a typewriter clacking, beautifully grounding the movie.

And when that score does come in? Perfectly moody, speaking to the crushing paranoia which often comes from trying to dig up information most would rather keep buried.

So many shots in “All the President’s Men” are in split diopter, keeping the foreground and the background in focus. There’s no whooshing camera being carted across a room; it’s often stationary and precise, creating this exceptional objective view of events.

The two journalists uncovering Watergate’s scandal become characters in this drama, but the noble purpose gets thorny. Carl Bernstein, played by Hoffman, and Bob Woodward, Redford, clash with each other but keep the majority of their collaboration as a pure business, even when battling with their editors.

Something so subtle as Bernstein shooting a quick, withering look at Woodward after Woodward tells former Committee for the Re-Election of the President Treasurer Hugh Sloan he’s also a Republican shows some humanity in these journalists.

And the scenes with Woodward meeting Deep Throat, one of the anonymous sources unraveling Watergate, are impeccable. A sweaty, wide-eyed Redford in a dark parking garage, lit drastically in a way we might never see from movies again, talking with Hal Holbrook’s obscured face and exceptional voice, often ending in a dreading silence; nothing is better.

All the while, so much of the movie is understated. A random burglary eventually spiraling to implicate the White House could never be predicted at the start of this movie, which makes the depiction of hard journalism that much more exciting to watch.

Woodward leaning over to tap a lawyer’s shoulder or Bernstein scribbling on a notebook, so much visual imagery sticks from an often mundane setting. It’s the sign of something confidently directed. It’s a shame director Alan J. Pakula didn’t seem to capture quite the same spirit in his other work.

There’s a reason “All the President’s Men” has stuck around for over 50 years now, constantly compared to those in that political thriller niche. It’s the best I’ve seen at portraying the struggles of journalism, from triumph to mistakes to frustration to the mystique of it all.

Bernstein yelling excitedly as he chases the departing car of Woodward is the closest feeling to wanting to share a lead I’ve ever seen. Some things never change.