Lookout Records was situated in a unique position as pop/punk saw a post-grunge boom in the mid-nineties. The label held the release rights to Green Day’s pre-major-label back catalogue as well as the Operation Ivy releases (by pre-Rancid members). The millions in revenue that these releases generated annually for the label meant, essentially, that they were free to do as they wanted with the many other bands they released and were not bound by the usual financial restrictions of an independent label. Despite this the label would come to fall behind on it’s royalty payments to most of its bands, including Green Day, all of whom would eventually take back ownership of their releases leaving the label destitute.
The rise and fall is told as a series of feature articles about key label releases as well as a chronological oral history. Oral histories collate excerpts from interviews to provide a narrative through many different perspectives. Music histories are often told through oral history because, I guess, so much about the experience of music relates to its interaction with and experience by a fan base. This leads to the inevitable cliché in music documentaries of well-known musicians describing how they felt about a band when they were younger… usually worst personified in obligatory load of drivel from Bono. I don’t think there is a comparative use of oral history in other mediums (i.e. film, art) as it seems it is only music where there are so many shared group experiences.
The obvious problem with oral histories is that it is all necessarily subjective, a patchwork of opinions and recollections which need not necessarily be verified. I’d love to declaratively state that oral histories are awful, lazy and a cop-out but unfortunately, I must admit, at least to an extent they are sometimes necessary. Even the best books about music scenes are often decried as biased, subjective, or marginalising. Even Please Kill Me: The Oral history of Punk, which seems to insulate itself in its title as being subjective and prone to error, was accused of being too subjective and prone to error.
So, while I wish that this book, like all oral histories, used interviews as sources and wrote with a consistent narrative voice I understand too that it would be inviting an unholy amount of criticism to do so. Prested writes that as the label grew out of the same time and place as the venue Gilman St and adjacent to the magazine Maximumrocknroll there was a sense of ownership throughout the local scene. Furthermore, the casual and friendly nature of the recording contracts with the many bands the label released also promoted a sense of camaraderie and ownership. There are a lot of people, many represented in the book, who felt that Lookout did wrong. Meanwhile, though Lookout records was at its peak a multi-million-dollar business it only ever employed a few handfuls of people. The label was never so large that there were enough people on the inside who could objectively piece together the path to disaster.
With such a delicate subject where many people felt different kinds of personal connection to and, in turn, betrayal by the label and its owners it was bound to be difficult to try and chart the labels history and the points which lead to its failure. In his introduction Prested is self-aware enough to attempt to explain why he is simultaneously the best person to write the history and rise of the label but perhaps not so well-suited to tackle the decline.
Prested’s unabashed fandom leads to a high level of detail on the signing and key releases of the labels bigger bands. He also does a great job explaining the origins of Green Day and Operation Ivy The book provides more detail than I’d ever come across and fills in a lot of gaps in my knowledge about pre-Green Day bands and the many bands Operation Ivy members took part in before Rancid. I now also understand and appreciate the importance and standing of other pivotal Lookout bands like Screeching Weasel, Tilt, Avail, and The Queers as Prested writes comprehensive biographies of these and many more bands. I would happily recommend this book to anyone with an interested in 90’s pop/punk because of this level of information, trivia, and care for the subject(s). There are also often larger stories hidden in the side mentions of venues/people/bands/magazines which have renewed by interest in revisiting issues of Punk Plant as well as finally cracking the Gilman St book.
It’s unfortunate in a way that Prested must go on to detail the fall of the label. Time seems to have blunted many interviewee’s sense of anger and outrage. The attitude is predominantly ‘so it goes’ with occasional allegations of negligence and improper conduct which are never substantiated or explored. There is no real ending, summation or moral to take from any of the events as they are portrayed. There is no passing of judgment or clear damnation. There are points, where the book allows people to contend what, ultimately, was the downfall of Lookout but they also mere straws piled on mountains of mistake.
The story of the label reflects the fall of the music industry in general. A gigantic amount of hubris and lack of planning for leaner times. Mass riches squandered in a way that seems incomprehensible in a post internet/streaming world. A more objective investigative book could be written about the mismanagement and fall of Lookout Records and its peers. This is what I initially thought I wanted when I finished it. With time though I’ve realised that Prested’s book is successful because of the chosen focus. A witch-hunt wouldn’t have proven anything other than what we know. The entertainment business squandered money at its peak. Lookout was more foolish than some and as bad as many. The witch-hunt would rake bitter fuel over dying coals, but an exploration of the labels highlights, success and legacy shows not only why it was so important but the reason so many were heartbroken at its failure.
The creator of Judge Judy wrote a book about a killer boar. It was adapted into a film in Australia in the 1980’s. Because the robotic boar never worked the film became about crazed pet food factory workers and a sign of Australia’s acceptance of its crazed underbelly.
Razorback is often unfairly described and derided as Jaws with a Boar.
Oh, if only it were that simple!
Razorback is barely a film about a giant boar. It is, at times, barely a film about anything. What it is though is an unwitting bridge between the 1971 bleak reality of Wake in Fright to the 1986 smash hit of Crocodile Dundee. Wake in Fright was an unflinching exploration of the nihilistic and drunken Australian psyche as experienced by a stranded school teacher in an outback town. It was a box-office failure and long lost in Australia as it was considered too unflinching in its depiction of the otherwise heavily romanticised Australian outback and inhabitants. Crocodile Dundee is essentially the same story as Wake in Fright but transformed into an extended tourism shoot and embrace of the foreign other with the drunken nihilism white-washed into a blokey fun.
Razorback forms part or all of the model which allowed Crocodile Dundee to make this transformation. Razorback backgrounds the drunkenness and hostility of the people it is populated by and the landscape they inhabit as it focuses upon the phantom dangers of a giant razorback boar. Crocodile Dundee would use the same tactic with the unreasonably ever-present danger of crocodiles.
Arguably this is a lot to lay on Razorback which some would argue is a film which is barely watchable. Directed by an untested Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet music video director it is full of set-pieces which veer dangerously close to proto steam-punk. The
producers passed on Jeff Bridges as the protagonist in favour of the lost to history and very underwhelming Gregory Harrison. The opening scene is a brutal exploitative reference to the Azaria Chamberlain dingo death in a story line which is never quite justified and then promptly abandoned. The eponymous boar, like Bruce the shark in Jaws, was apparently generally faulty and, so, is hardly seen. Instead the films prevalent and larger threat comes from the unpredictable and sexually violent local pet food factory workers.
Despite all this it is a cult classic and features prominently in the schlock aussie film documentary Not Quite Hollywood where Quentin Tarantino claims it is one of his favourite Australian films. Also, to the films merit, almost everyone in the crew (though not the cast) has gone on to have extensive careers in Australian and international film and television.
The most confusing aspect beyond the finished product are the films origins. Judge Judy creator, Peter Brennan, wrote two novels. One was Razorback and another was Sudden Death, a tennis thriller. He also co-authored another novel about the Kennedy brothers. When not writing schlock books he was an American television producer, writer, and journalist most well known for being the creator and executive producer of Judge Judy and its spin-offs as well as Current Affair and Good Day New York.
Filmed in Broken Hill and with many of the same crew from Mad Max 2 the film relies heavily on a hostile Australian outback and its weathered inhabitants for a threatening tone. It’s hard to know what was changed from the source material and assumedly American context of the book and to what degree, if any, the aspects of the township and its inhabitants were tacked on by the Australian film-makers. Unfortunately, and for whatever reason (scarcity, cult appeal, happenstance or price-fixing script-writing errors) copies of the Razorback novel are hard to find and often expensive (some around $150 at time of writing).
The director, Russell Mulcahy, had mainly worked as a music video director until Razorback. He would go on to direct Highlander, one of the Resident Evil films and a swathe of tv. His music video past is obvious in this, his debut. The film often looks like a music video with mist/fog and coloured backlit backgrounds filmed from low camera angles. There is also a hallucinatory dessert sequence that an IMDB review thought worthy enough to describe as ‘one of the most beautiful horror films not made by an Italian giallo master’.
In the absence of a working robotic boar and for story purposes too arbitrary or confusing to go into here the film focuses a lot of its time upon the ambivalently evil brothers Benny and Dicko, and their work in the town’s pet food factory. The factory is
ramshackle, malfunctioning, and mostly abandoned. There is some loose arrangement where local boar hunters supply carcasses to the factory but, judging by the surplus of body parts littered throughout the place, Benny and Dicko don’t seem to know how to process the mutilated offerings. Nonetheless the factory is a perfect place for director Mulcahy to fill with fog and film silhouettes garishly backlight in red and blue. Benny and Dicko are alcoholics who live in a cave, and are constantly changing into ever more outlandish fur coats and hats yet they appear to be the managers of the factory and the skeleton staff of heavy browed labourers. What’s more they take their work seriously. Throughout the film they abandon acts of rape, kidnapping, and murder so they can race back to the gore-ridden factory and hammer furiously at broken steam valves and jumpy conveyor belts.
Within the three films of Wake in Fright, Razorback and Crocodile Dundee a foreign other experiences the Australian outback and witness brutal hunting scenes. The infamous kangaroo hunting scene in Wake in Fright was shot with real kills and real drunken hunters and, not surprisingly, is extremely brutal in its violence and malice. In Razorback the acted drunken hunting is shot through backlit fog and becomes a music video and chance for the story, such as it is, to propel the protagonist towards his stand-in love interest. Crocodile Dundee sets up the same drunken kangaroo hunting scene for the same purpose of character. The drunken hunters are foiled by Mick Dundee at the behest of the shocked reporter. It is a chance for the suddenly honourable protagonist to distance himself from what were previously drunken brethren.
The transformation of the outback from the realism of Wake in Fright into the surrealism of a strange unexplained place in Razorback is also heavily reused in Crocodile Dundee as the hostile landscape takes on a level ambiguous spirituality. Wake in Fright focused upon the plight of an innocent school teacher trapped in the outback town and, so, underserved of the drunken excess he is subjected to. Razorback and Crocodile Dundee alter this dynamic by both using a New York reporter blundering into Australia with a missionary ideal and the hubris of reporting on the savagery of a foreign land. This sin of pride allows Razorback to justify the reporter’s hostile reception as it simultaneously draws upon Wake in Fright in its portrayal of the habitants as lost, drunken and manic within a landscape they exist to ruin.
Benny and Dicko are never really allowed to be evil however so much as psychotic cartoon characters. The rest of the town accepts them just as they accept the boar hunter whose son dies at the beginning of the film and is suspected (like Lindsay Chamberlain) of inventing the creature to cover up murder. It is difficult to know then if in this world all the inhabitants are twisted, or they are simply strangely accepting. Razorback never examines these or other questions long enough to provide any hint of underlying meaning. Similarly, the film refuses to encourage any sort of thematic interpretation in its frenetic pacing and continued priority of style above all else (including horror).
Crocodile Dundee becomes a much more gracious film as it choses to overlook the arrogance of the reporter and, instead, provides Mick Dundee as guide which allows the New Yorker to see and experience beauty in outback Australia and a degree of invented pathos to its isolated pub-going inhabitants.
Which isn’t to say, necessarily, that either Wake in Fright or Crocodile Dundee are morally right or wrong. Each have their problems and their ulterior motives. Wake in Fright wanted to be a frank and brutal look at Australia. Crocodile Dundee wanted to sell Australia to the world and show how foreign visitors could enjoy even its most isolated extremes. Razorback is great because of the fact it does exist in a blank middle-ground. It is a film which is aware of the faults of Australia and any attempt to portray it. But rather than worrying about this the film leans into being as brutal, fast and psychotic as it can in this portrayal. It merges the tropes of American music videos onto the Australian outback and one-pub towns. It doesn’t care about its perception or treatment of Australia, Australians or its overseas visitors and, as a result, and like many the Ozploitation classics is much more interesting and Australian than its mainstream contemporaries or forebears.
Jillian Bell takes the Michael Fassbender award: for not just turning up, not just matching the token effort of all around, but for owning every single scene so hard that you start to wonder if she (like him) knows what film she is in.
Charlie Day playing a Charlie Day type and Ice Cube playing an Ice Cube type (complete with NWA quotes he somehow doesn’t visibly wince at).
The jury is still out as to whether Charlie Day can pull off being a leading actor as there’s not much in this movie to work with. His character is boring and weak and, by films end, has only evolved into someone slightly less boring and weak. The central idea of a teacher fight is fine, I guess, within the film but barely believable with a bunch of half-hearted obstacles and hinderances and character motivations. As with every middle of the road American comedy the worst part is the sign-posted heart felt character arc and
ending where everyone and everything ends in a sort of mediocre fairy tale. They all get to keep being teachers. That sucks.
Kumail Nanjiani and Tracey Morgan are ok in supporting roles though it feels like they didn’t really know what they were doing. Meanwhile poor Christina Hendricks is way off in tone and it perhaps her character lost a lot of lines or scenes or she was given the wrong script, either way, her character, her approach to it is strange.
Meanwhile Jillian Bell steals every scene with the best lines, perfect timing, and what feels like a genuine interest in being in the movie and being the funniest person within it. Jillian Bell is has been criminally underrated for a while and, I think, is one of the best comedic character actors working at the moment. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear that everyone else in this movie hates her now because she overshadowed everyone so hard. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that she is a complete dick who went out of her way to show everyone up. I don’t think believe either is the case (I would of Fassbender), I’d hope and assume she is awesome and she is much better than this movie deserved and makes it much more deserving or watching on a long plane trip than it may have otherwise been.
It has recently been reported Daniel Craig will star in two more James Bond films. This after he infamously claimed, ‘I would rather slash my wrists than play James Bond again’. The current run of Bond films, which was rebooted with Craig in 2006 with the gritty Casino Royale, will now continue more than one film beyond Craig’s contract and make him the oldest actor to play the role.
With Daniel Craig locked in the rumour mill has started on who will direct. Sam Mendes directed the last two instalments but will not return for what is currently working titled as Bond 25 or its sequel which is expected to be a reboot of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Favourites include Christopher Nolan, Ben Wheatley and Susanne Bier.
Will this mean that the last two Daniel Craig Bond films will be a sort of sub-reboot to the franchise?
Possibly, as certainly Mendes provided a distinct new feel to his instalments. After the relatively lacklustre commercial and critical performance of Quantum of Solace Mendes brought a sense of the aesthetic and pace to Skyfall while also subtly steering the rebooted Bond away from a rapidly changing contemporary world.
Once upon a time Bond films raced to include technology and visions of the future. In the 1970s, Bond, his allies and those
he sought to foil travelled and fought in Jetsons-like amphibious cars, jets, submarines, and individual space shuttles. It wasn’t just transportation which the films invented but general technological gadgetry which didn’t exist then and still doesn’t today due to either impracticality or sheer implausibility. A possibly exception is Bond’s communications methods which were sometimes prescient when they were at their most simple.
The Daniel Craig Bond was rebooted to be competitive with the Jason Bourne films. The aim was to remove the far-fetched gadgets and add a sense of realism. This worked in the mid 2000’s but became difficult as the decade progressed. International decentralised terrorism posed a bigger threat than any villain in a volcano lair and the advent of smart-phones meant that we all had gadgets in our pockets as powerful as anything Q had ever provided to Daniel Craig or his predecessors. Rather than try to keep up with or predict the future of gadgets or villainy Craig and Mendes took a polite side-step of avoidance.
In Skyfall Daniel Craig operates without gadgets and drives a sixties Aston Martin (the same model as driven by Sean Connery). The film’s showdown takes place against the backdrop of nature, the Scottish Highlands, rather than a space station. The heroes use ancient rifles and booby traps rather than lasers or rockets.
In the latest film, SPECTRE, Mendes double dipped in his avoidance of the contemporary by using the old-world settings of Mexico, Tangiers and the Moroccan dessert and the retro villain of Christopher Waltz’s Blofeld as the threat to Bond and the world. Aesthetically, SPECTRE is a beautiful film but fails on a story level with its desperate desire to connect Bloomfield’s villainy and menace to the events of the preceding films.
Unsurprisingly SPECTRE also avoids tackling modern international terrorism and its religious fundamentalist connections. Instead the looming threat to the world and freedom is the idea of surveillance and technology. This threat rings false though as the film refuses to ever fully examine real contemporary internet culture or even show the ubiquity of smart-phones. Indeed pivotal plot points where the media indicate Bond’s movements are detailed via printed newspapers rather than any form of MOJO.
In contemporary journalism MOJO, mobile phone created and curated journalism, is increasingly becoming the most common and efficient way of reporting breaking news. Stephen Quinn in Mojo and the Mobil Journalism Revolution writes that the ‘revolutionary aspect of “full” mojo is the fact that all work is done on the device (a smartphone) – filming, interviewing, editing and creating the voice-over (6)’. Smartphones are able to act as the tool of transmission and often the end user will view the report on a similar device rather than traditional news mediums with push notifications able to alert users to breaking news in almost real time.
MOJO allows journalists to operate on a more mobile basis and with far less overheads then required by traditional camera equipment and crews. News can be compiled and filed or published quickly in the instance of breaking news events and the flexibility of MOJO allows reporters to easily story-build around events.
Another advantage is that since mobile phones are ubiquitous they are generally less intimidating for interview subjects. A phone can be operated by one person so that an event can be filmed inconspicuously and interviews can be conducted one on one. Most people have filmed or been filmed with a phone and will be more relaxed in front of a phone than a video camera.
It will be interesting to see whether a new director decides to do a soft reboot on the series so that it once again feels exists in the contemporary world. Some people are saying Bond will struggle to remain relevant in a post Trump world and the increased pace of political events. By the same token in a world where the president is responding to reporters on Twitter can a contemporary spy drama continue to avoid smart-phones and the story-building strength of mobile journalism?
Embracing rather than avoiding the issue could be the best thing that ever happened to the franchise. To avoid aping Mission Impossible and the conceit of prosthetic masks perhaps Bond will become a darker and more underground John Le Carré type of spy operating in the shadows and on the periphery of society and only irregularly rather than habitually showing up at gala balls. If nothing else perhaps in his last two films Daniel Craig will be a little more circumspect about telling all and sundry his name is Bond, James Bond.
I watch most of the new Vice TV shows at least sporadically. I would watch more often but I’ve gotten out of the habit of viewing traditional network tv. It’s only the shows which existed before the TV channel on YouTube that I have kept up with regularly, Matty Matheson’s Dead Set on Life and Action Bronson’s Fuck That’s Delicious. I’m expecting too that I’ll watch Damien Abraham’s new wrestling documentary when it is released even though I don’t like wrestling.
I watch these shows because I like the hosts and I realised recently I liked each of these personalities before they started tv shows. The Vice tv shows are almost a by-product or a side-hustle to each presenter’s original vocation. Matty Matheson is a successful chef and restauranteur, Action Bronson a successful rapper and Damien Abraham (an outlier to the argument) is the singer of the band Fucked Up who were successful but are less prolific than they used to be (though just as good) and is an increasingly successful podcaster.
The conventional wisdom in modern media would suggest these shows would not only need to build upon the established brand of the respective presenters but also cross promote the network shows and serve a set of sponsors to monetise the show and turn profit for the channel. This doesn’t seem to be the case and my impression is that these shows are a by-product of Matty Matheson’s food related appearances and Action Bronson’s music tours.
There are ostensibly few if any obvious sponsors. The locations and venues could, in rare instances, be a form of brand placement and there does seem to be a sort of eco-system with which Vice operates within and which producers occasionally double dip upon but I think more than anything the aim is to shirk conventional wisdom and provide candid and often rough food and travel television in the manner of traditional network tv.
Impact of convergence:
In news reporting convergence has impacted journalists by requiring that they be skilled at multi-media reporting and can use the best platform or platforms available. Journalists can no longer specialise in just one form of reporting (i.e. print or radio) but must use multimedia to meet time or contextual demands of news for modern news consumers.
Another key impact of convergence is the need for adaptability. In Convergent Journalism: An Introduction (Flak, 2014) and The 21st Century Journalism Handbook (Holmes, 2014) convergence is examined in the context of the rising prevalence of smartphones and prevalent use of twitter. Technology and internet culture evolves so rapidly and in unexpected directions that, in 2017, the financial future of Twitter is uncertain though tools such as the GIF which were expected to become obsolete are now commonly used in meme imagery which, itself, has led to different semiotic signifiers. The Snapchat model of temporal consumption has affecte
d the speed of image consumption and the perception of permanence. This model has spread to other platforms and is still being experimented with by big and small news providers as a method of reporting.
Increased internet literacy is constantly impacting on the idea of convergence and the role of the modern journalist. Clickbait journalism is an example of how quickly users quickly learnt the literacy of headlines and how to avoid clickbait articles. With the rise of the snapchat model of temporal imagery and meme language will journalists need to learn how to convey news in more rapid image based mediums?
Matheson and Bronson both benefit immensely from living in a digital age. They self-market with social media and the increasing popularity of their shows and their own social media documentation of filming along their tour stops adds also to the allure of their tours. It helps too that their shows, while roughly presented, look great. Dead Set on Life in particular looks amazing because of the frequent sweeping aerial shots from drone cameras. The accessibility of this technology to Matheson and crew means that their show looks better than all but the top tier (i.e. Attenborough) of previous travel shows.
Both shows have now run their third seasons. Where will they go next? Can they keep this sort of candid feel? Perhaps this is a new level of convergence which sees journalists required to not only multi-skill but also multi-career and side-hustle in this way? Will the hosts need to adapt and evolve with the VICE as a channel and their own career progressions or is the long-term goal of Vice to buck the trends and adapt a style that seeks to ignore convergence and continue to provide network style television? If so, and if this is post-convergence journalism/media it plays eerily like the pre-convergence.
Such an amazingly mundane film and amazing because while assumedly isn’t hard to make a boring film it is surely difficult to make one so boring out of such interesting source material. The two-hour running time to this movie drags as an eternity as the film struggles with the formation of the red scare and McCarthyism in America in the wake of WW2 and the beginnings of the cold war.
I think most people are aware of the film because Bryan Cranston was nominated for best actor in the 2016 academy awards for his portrayal of the titular Dalton Trumbo. Knowing parts of the story of Trumbo and the Hollywood 10 from the You Must Remember This podcast and having also read about Trumbo in Steve Martins auto-biography Born Standing Up I’ve been eager to watch this film ever since I missed it in cinemas. Amidst the many amazing brushes with historical figures in Steve Martins book his interaction with Trumbo during the time Martin was dating his daughter stood out the most. Martin wrote that it was the first time he had been around such intellectual radicals and described Trumbo as an intense and passionate man despite the troubles he’d gone through with the Hollywood black lists and his time in prison.
On the screen, the film does many things well. It seamlessly interweaves original archival footage and recreates similar footage where necessary. The film is always well acted and the cast, one and all, do a great job of portraying some of the most influential players in Hollywood history.
But there is never a sense what it is to live in America at the time. Kong: Skull Island managed a better job in it’s opening credits with short introductory montage of news clippings and footage. Trumbo never seems confident enough to dive too far into history or examine closely why the cold war lasted for so long or why communism was pursued so vehemently domestically.
A particularly weak moment slowly passes by when the gossip columnist, Hedda Hopper threatens to publish the real, Jewish names, of the studio heads and the aura of anti-Semitism which operates in tandem with McCarthyism is left to the audience to be interpreted as a general fear of foreignness. This lack of general political and national scope to the film is problem enough but the film is even less effective with its central subject. There is no indication of how Trumbo came to be where he is. The film introduces him in his thirties as the highest paid screenwriter to date. There is no explanation for his communism or stubbornness or exploration of his past as a war correspondent or even how he grew as a writer. He is birthed fully formed into the film and as such there is never any reason to like him.
Even as Trumbo is blacklisted and jailed there are no real stakes. On Trumbo’s release from prison he and his family move to a palatial house in the city whereas in real life, they moved to Mexico. It is these kind of disconnects which not only, biographically, make it difficult for the film to explain key moments (such as the inspiration for his second Oscar winning film The Brave One) it also is just one of many instances where an opportunity for crisis or real stakes for Trumbo and his family are side-stepped for convenience. Keeping the film in Hollywood allows the filmmakers to concentrate the cause and menace of McCarthyism into the single villain of the gossip columnist Hedda Hopper as played by Helen Mirren.
The only real crisis the film bothers to present is that as a workaholic Trumbo might be at risk of losing his family and even this small stake is discarded as his drug and alcohol fuelled work is shown to not be the mission of a stubborn obsessive but the ultimate foil to his nemesis Hedda Hopper. The film portrays this outcome between these two individuals as the main cause of the end of the blacklists, the red scare, McCarthyism and the whole dark chapter of American history. Meanwhile the epilogue cards explain that the blacklist was still in partial operation for a further twenty years and negate even the flimsy premise of crisis and battle the filmmakers invented.
The film is a boring failure made by a director of bad comedy films (notably the Austin Powers sequels) and a tv writer. Though the acting within the film is good I’m not even sure that Cranston deserved to be nominated for work in a film weighed down by such an ironically bad script.
I know now why I’ve never really met anyone who’s seen this film. Very few did. Though I would say to anyone that was interested that they would better spend their time listening to Karina Longworth’s much more interesting, entertaining and accurate stories of Dalton Trumbo and the Hollywood Ten on the You Must Remember This podcast.