The Conversation (1974)

As for a plot synopsis, Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation is about a conversation recorded by Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) and his surveillance crew.  The rest of the movie explores the consequences of the act before we find out what the surveillance is used for.  

Written and filmed during the Watergate scandal (and between the first and second Godfather films), it seems as if Coppola is making a commentary on the right to privacy.  Perhaps Watergate is where our current unrest at the very thought of being spied upon comes from, but only in a distant way does Watergate and by extension, The Conversation, affect us today.  

The right to privacy appears to be an important value, but why?  Many of us shop at places with cameras, pay by credit card, and use cell phones without a second thought.  The response is rhetorical in almost every case:  "Why worry?  I have nothing to hide."  It is precisely this dimension of the right to privacy that gets debated, but little moves past the rhetorical gesture.  Little can be said to suggest a convincing rationale for privacy except as a matter of information that is used for theft, as libel, or some other mischief.  No one seems to have a great argument for why we might wish to remain private about something good, or even a case where it isn't bad, but could be perceived as such until it becomes a crime of theft, libel, and the rest.

What makes for excellence in The Conversation is something more subtle than our current debates on privacy.  In the film, Harry Caul begins his work with far more concern over the technical merits of his surveillance work, and as Roger Ebert points out in his Great Movies reevaluation of the film, Caul is not as good at what he does as his reputation indicates.  Still, Caul is obviously disturbed by the end of the film, but why is he bothered and what effects the transformation if it is more subtle than a concern with privacy or that some element of his job is lost if someone else can do it?

The pivotal moment comes when Stanley (John Cazale) says, "Sometimes it's nice to know what they're talking about."  Caul replies, "I don't care what they're talking about.  All I want is a nice fat recording."  What Caul is concerned with is being able to hear the people, not to listen to what they say.  The anxiety Caul feels at a later point in the film only comes when he tries to listen.  The danger is not in hearing someone speak, but for Caul, it is with listening and being involved in what he hears:  humanity.

Though The Conversation could easily impress the viewer who wishes to make a conspiracy theory or apocalyptic warning of the film, the enduring quality of the work is better recognized as a fear of being involved in listening than the MacGuffin of privacy.  That is, Caul is afraid of being in conversation with humanity rather than passively observing others. 

IMDb rates this film 8 stars out of 10

Film 101 rates this film 5 (distinguished red) stars out of 5

Roger Ebert includes it on his Great Movies list

Network (1976)

Sidney Lumet's Network is crude and exaggerated to the point of earning the monikers of satire and farce, but neither term is sufficient in itself.  Rarely does a movie seem so crazy and somehow believable.  Then again, it is not believable at every moment.  The film goes nowhere near as far as Robert Altman's Nashville in making the sideshow circus the main event, but it is enough to have to pause before the question of what the film is about.

The film is about two people in the news business.  Max Schumacher (William Holden) is a symbol of the old guard, replete with references to Murrow years of journalistic integrity.  Opposite of Max is Diana Christensen (Faye Dunaway) who subverts news into a quest for ratings.  In fact, her approach is prototypical of reality television:  she offers fifteen minutes of fame to whomever she thinks will get ratings.  Thus, Max and Diana end up in a relationship, mostly as a matter of contrast.

While Max and Diana are the main characters, Howard Beale (Peter Finch) is the caught in the crossfire as an old friend of Max and a ratings magnet for Diana.  Howard is exactly who the audience remembers, if only for the phrase, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!"  Howard is also the most dynamic character, going from traditionalist news anchor to suicidal to "the mad prophet of the airwaves."

Alongside performances by Robert Duvall and Ned Beatty, the film is well acted with a director who works to get good performances from his actors.  Lumet also brings his penchant for finding a good script and his eye for the lighting that a situation would actually have.  What sells the movie beyond believable lighting, a great screenplay, and top notch acting, is its impeccable balance between the main characters and the sideshow.  Without Holden and Dunaway continually pulling the story back in to a struggle between integrity and results, the tragedy of Howard Beale at the hand of ratings would not likely be credible.