Happy new year and new presidency! Wherever in the world and in time you are reading this, I hope you are safe and well. I’ve got a backlog of thoughts about the films I finally watched, how some of them hit differently in what feels like a new age, and yes, plenty of revisited classics. so stay tuned.
I want to start 2021 with a…. Bombshell (2019).
CW: sexual harassment & assault
The elevator scene, a masterclass in silent acting. Courtesy: Bombshell (2019) Official Website.
Bombshell depicts the fall of Roger Ailes, the late boss of Fox News, and the tightrope-walking women, led by Gretchen Carlson (Nicole Kidman) and Megyn Kelly (Charlize Theron), who took him down. Filled to the brim with stars and eerily accurate prosthetics, director Jay Roach injects the script with buzzing real-life coverage of the scandal and lower thirds for those who don’t keep up with cable news conservatives. The leading ladies boldly and selectively break the fourth wall, a wink and a plea to the viewers who powerfully dictate ratings and perceptions at the network. Moving at the speedy clip of a newsreel, Bombshell chips away at what it means to sell a candidate, to sell a lie, and to sell complicity in the first Hollywood dramatization of a Me Too scandal.
Kidman shines in shades of Big Little Lies’ Celeste by once again turning the “battered woman” narrative into strength and smarts. As Carlson, she lawyers up with notes and tapes, but her case against Ailes hinges on other women coming forward with similar stories. That’s no easy ask, thanks to the web of manipulation and contractual obligation spun by Ailes and reinforced by fiercely loyal anchors he evidentially left alone. Kelly’s initial silence on the internal investigation launched by Rupert Murdoch’s sons speaks unintentional volumes, and despite her repeated assertations that she “is not a feminist,” we watch as she grapples with the price of unacknowledged trauma and complicity in real time.
The film is difficult to watch. I audibly cringed multiple times, and overall felt a deep sadness and anger at the familiarity of each woman’s anecdote. The most compelling characters are the ones who don’t exist in real life — Kayla (Margot Robbie), an aspiring conservative anchor, and Jess (Kate McKinnon), a closeted gay Democrat stuck in the Fox newsroom because no one else will hire her. They’re an amalgamation of many unnamed women’s experiences under Ailes, and as to be expected, they both give incredibly moving and nuanced performances. In one particular scene, Kelly seeks out Kayla as a fellow victim of Ailes’ harassments. We ride the sickening rollercoaster of Kayla’s relief, companionship, and ultimately bitter resentment at Kelly for not using her platform to speak out. “Did you think what your silence would mean for us, the rest of us?” she asks. While not perfect, Megyn Kelly and other women portrayed in the film confirmed in an interview that the most harrowing details — twirling around for Ailes during interviews, understanding the dread of being called to the “second floor,” rejecting sexual advances and suffering the consequences — all really happened. Kelly admits that the film prompted her to think about that decade of silence, the careers it ruined, and the lives it permanently altered.
What can future media makers learn from Bombshell about dramatizing Me Too? Less is more when it comes to physically depicting trauma. Model at least one healthy response when a survivor shares their story. Center female voices in your script and leaders behind the camera.
And…it’s very hard to make a convincing movie about taking down a perpetrator sexual harassment and assault that refuses to acknowledge its characters’ instrumental role in catapulting a known assailant into the White House. Bombshell denounces the maker, but not what he makes. It bookends but fatally ignores the Orange Elephant in the Room, beginning with the fallout from Kelly’s pointed questioning of Trump’s history of demeaning women and ending with her coverage of his acceptance speech as the GOP nominee for president. Kelly’s husband confronts her for letting the candidate off with a shrug for his vulgar comments, and then? That’s pretty much it. Sure, the film ends before the Access Hollywood tapes were leaked in an October Surprise, but allegations against Trump had been extensively reported on by 2016, and the film was written years afterward. It’s the biggest problem with the film and why ultimately it falls flat off its high heels; selective, external accountability won’t end the systemic harassment and abuse of women in the workplace. The sooner we put that message unequivocally in our retrospective recollections, the better.