State of Play

Rough Edit

The thematic scaffolding of generic thriller State of Play props up some interesting concerns; profit-mongering globalist mercenary contactors out to monopolise the business of war, the murky world of state politics and the endangered realm of ‘real reporting’ harried by the gossip bloggers of the digital age. However this promising framework is undermined by the crucial nuts and bolts of the film, ultimately making for a trite and rather unconvincing drama.

Everything seems a bit thin on the ground in this Washington D.C set remake of the successful noughties BBC series of the same name. Russell Crowe does his methodical best as Cal, a seasoned come-as-you-are reporter complete with sharp instincts and bedraggled bouffant – a man talented at his work but a slob when it comes to everything else (look he’s preparing instant mash! How destitute!). Cal encounters a conflict of interest when he’s asked for help from old college buddy and now congressman Stephen Collins (played by a stoic Ben Affleck) who’s become embroidered in allegations of an affair after a young co-worker’s apparent suicide. Into the mix is thrown the perky Rachael McAdams as green around the gills professional blogger Del, who must put aside creative differences and team up with Cal to uncover the big scoop.

While the back and forth between Crowe and McAdams can be fun in its playfulness and the general banter at the office adds to some sense of credibility, the main characters often seem half baked as though the film is undecided as to who they really are. Any complexity quickly lapses into cliché with each protagonist reverting to type and suffering from rather uninspired, formulaic character development. Of course Cal isn’t the smarmy pedant he’s introduced as, but a lovable rogue, while Del, initially overconfident and sure of herself will obviously relinquish her rookie ways and learn the artistry and craft that goes into the pursuit of ‘the story.’ Even Helen Mirren in a slim-line role, is far too chummy to be the mega bitch editor the film so wants her to be.

Like the confused characterisation making ciphers out of the main players, the tone of the film is equally slapdash flitting from nuanced and lifelike, to overblown and hyperbolic. Initially the challenges the plucky reporters face don’t seem hazardous enough to instil any kind of urgency in the viewer- Del’s biggest problem will be having doors repeatedly slam in her face. Then the next moment, a single potent threat rears its head, which lies at odds with the itinerary of slow burning authenticity already established, almost like the screenplay has been hijacked by another movie entirely.

From its newsroom setting, State of play delves into unabashed montages to show journalism survival 101 and the honest to god digging of cold hard facts that back up a story. However, saving Cal and the rest from any real detective work, the true antagonists seem to reveal themselves with such readiness that the whole ‘solving of the case’ becomes more than just a little insincere. There is a distinct feeling that we are not so much witness to living and breathing characters unpicking a mystery as watching a script unfold, diluting any sense of real drive within the story.

It must be said, cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto bathes Washington in a dark griminess making it easy to envision America’s principal city as a place where menace skulks and dodgy dealings go down. And there is real promise shown when our team on the ground begins to uncover the gravy train; the film flirting with the potential juiciness of a conspiracy that goes all the way to the top. But this strand is betrayed, the integral graft of the film sullied and the real criminals largely forgotten about in favour of a caricature baddie- the homogenised disenfranchised ex-soldier. By the time the quorn ready meal of a conclusion comes around there is a distinct sense of non-achievement and the incentive to care is all but lost.

On paper State of Play looks good, but the finished article amounts to an expose on not much at all. In a thriller of this kind one would expect that something at some point will smell a little fishy, but here the dubious whiffs come not from any intriguing machinations of the plot, but the poorly executed schematics of the film itself. The breezy interplay between Crowe and McAdams along with some gritty atmospherics mean it’s just about watchable, but otherwise this is a film far too pleased with itself for what is essentially a watered down genre movie whose angle has been covered in far more lucid and compelling fashion elsewhere: A poor man’s The Insider if you will.

State of Play? State of playtitude would be more accurate.