True Story is based on, well, a true story. Now almost 15 years after Michael Finkel was fired from The New York Times, he still talks to Christian Longo every month. (He wants to "follow the story to the end," he tells vulture.com). And he says he finds this movie about him brilliant but "completely unsettling."
As well he should. Finkel is no hero in True Story. He is a man desperately in search of professional redemption. Onscreen, Mike wants this story. He needs it badly. He spends a great deal of time talking with Chris in jail, and he comes to like him. He even shows Jill a long letter Chris wrote to him, and the two of them marvel at how similar it looks to Mike's own notes—the handwriting, the doodles, everything. "You could tell me what it's like to be me," Mike tells Chris when the two first meet.
As the story—and Mike's obsession with the story—grows, he says, "Everybody deserves to have their story heard." But Jill isn't so sure. Maybe some stories don't need to be heard. Maybe some lives don't need to be understood. Mike wants to know Chris, guilty or innocent. Jill has no such desire. She doesn't need to know evil personally to know what it looks like. "You will never, ever escape what you are," she tells Chris.
Do we need to understand the mind of a killer? Is Mike's work really so critical? Jill certainly doesn't think so. Nor does the judge. He admits from the bench that Chris is a mystery to him. "And God willing, you will remain so."
It's a salient point as we encounter movies like True Story—movies with something to say, but say it in discomforting ways. Some say it's important to engage with such stories, arguing that it's necessary to dig deep into the dark depths to pull out what truth and meaning we can. Others say there's little reason to muddy our minds, insisting that life's too short and too precious a gift to spend our treasured minutes in the mire.
At the end of the film, as Mike wraps up a reading of True Story, he's asked a question. What did he give up during the process of researching and writing? What did he lose? He doesn't answer.
Sometimes we don't want to know the truth, but here's an uncomfortable one. When we sink ourselves into stories about immorality or outright evil, maybe we can glean something good. But there is a cost in doing so. We risk losing a little something, a little of ourselves, in the folds.
As well he should. Finkel is no hero in True Story. He is a man desperately in search of professional redemption. Onscreen, Mike wants this story. He needs it badly. He spends a great deal of time talking with Chris in jail, and he comes to like him. He even shows Jill a long letter Chris wrote to him, and the two of them marvel at how similar it looks to Mike's own notes—the handwriting, the doodles, everything. "You could tell me what it's like to be me," Mike tells Chris when the two first meet.
As the story—and Mike's obsession with the story—grows, he says, "Everybody deserves to have their story heard." But Jill isn't so sure. Maybe some stories don't need to be heard. Maybe some lives don't need to be understood. Mike wants to know Chris, guilty or innocent. Jill has no such desire. She doesn't need to know evil personally to know what it looks like. "You will never, ever escape what you are," she tells Chris.
Do we need to understand the mind of a killer? Is Mike's work really so critical? Jill certainly doesn't think so. Nor does the judge. He admits from the bench that Chris is a mystery to him. "And God willing, you will remain so."
It's a salient point as we encounter movies like True Story—movies with something to say, but say it in discomforting ways. Some say it's important to engage with such stories, arguing that it's necessary to dig deep into the dark depths to pull out what truth and meaning we can. Others say there's little reason to muddy our minds, insisting that life's too short and too precious a gift to spend our treasured minutes in the mire.
At the end of the film, as Mike wraps up a reading of True Story, he's asked a question. What did he give up during the process of researching and writing? What did he lose? He doesn't answer.
Sometimes we don't want to know the truth, but here's an uncomfortable one. When we sink ourselves into stories about immorality or outright evil, maybe we can glean something good. But there is a cost in doing so. We risk losing a little something, a little of ourselves, in the folds.
True Story
The truth. We all say we want it—the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But lies flourish for a reason. The truth can be boring. Hurtful. Dangerous. Incriminating. We want the truth, we say. But is that, in itself, true? Or is it a lie we sometimes tell ourselves? Michael Finkel is in the truth-telling business. As a reporter for The New York Times, he uncovers uncomfortable truths and splashes them across the country, drawing people in with his prose, shocking them with what he's found.
But then, in the wake of yet another Mike Finkel sledgehammer story—one about the modern-day African slave trade—another shocking truth comes to light. In an effort to make the story more compelling, Mike has taken the accounts of several victims and merged them into one, solitary source—a man who did not actually experience all that Finkel reports.
"Everything that happened, happened to one of the boys!" Mike protests to his editors. Sure, his main character might not have been whipped, as he wrote. But someone was. Not good enough, say they. Not nearly. And it certainly doesn't disguise the nasty, ugly truth: In an effort to get yet another cover, to land on the short list for a Pulitzer Prize, Mike lied.
"I said write it up, not make it up," his editor hollers. Mike is summarily fired and slinks back to his Montana home, wondering whether he'll ever get another chance. But as Mike is getting canned in New York, something else is happening in rural Oregon. A man named Christian Longo stands accused of killing his entire family—his wife and three little children. The suspect hid in Mexico for weeks … using the alias Michael Finkel, reporter for The New York Times.
The real Mike smells a story. He flies to Oregon to meet Chris, and the alleged killer offers him an exclusive in exchange for … writing lessons. No, this isn't just a story, Mike thinks: It's a book. A big one. A lucrative one. A career-resuscitating one. So what if Chris hasn't actually told him yet whether he's guilty or not? He will.
"I think he trusts me," Mike tells his girlfriend, Jill. "Can you trust him?" Jill counters. After all, the guy did lie about being Mike. What's to stop him from lying to Mike? Would Mike be able to tell? Would he even want to?
Credits
Genre: Drama, Mystery/Suspense
Cast: Jonah Hill as Michael Finkel; James Franco as Christian Longo; Felicity Jones as Jill
Director: Rupert Goold
Distributor: Fox Searchlight
In Theaters: April 17, 2015
Reviewer: Paul Asay
source:http://www.pluggedin.com/movies/intheaters/true-story.aspx
The truth. We all say we want it—the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But lies flourish for a reason. The truth can be boring. Hurtful. Dangerous. Incriminating. We want the truth, we say. But is that, in itself, true? Or is it a lie we sometimes tell ourselves? Michael Finkel is in the truth-telling business. As a reporter for The New York Times, he uncovers uncomfortable truths and splashes them across the country, drawing people in with his prose, shocking them with what he's found.
But then, in the wake of yet another Mike Finkel sledgehammer story—one about the modern-day African slave trade—another shocking truth comes to light. In an effort to make the story more compelling, Mike has taken the accounts of several victims and merged them into one, solitary source—a man who did not actually experience all that Finkel reports.
"Everything that happened, happened to one of the boys!" Mike protests to his editors. Sure, his main character might not have been whipped, as he wrote. But someone was. Not good enough, say they. Not nearly. And it certainly doesn't disguise the nasty, ugly truth: In an effort to get yet another cover, to land on the short list for a Pulitzer Prize, Mike lied.
"I said write it up, not make it up," his editor hollers. Mike is summarily fired and slinks back to his Montana home, wondering whether he'll ever get another chance. But as Mike is getting canned in New York, something else is happening in rural Oregon. A man named Christian Longo stands accused of killing his entire family—his wife and three little children. The suspect hid in Mexico for weeks … using the alias Michael Finkel, reporter for The New York Times.
The real Mike smells a story. He flies to Oregon to meet Chris, and the alleged killer offers him an exclusive in exchange for … writing lessons. No, this isn't just a story, Mike thinks: It's a book. A big one. A lucrative one. A career-resuscitating one. So what if Chris hasn't actually told him yet whether he's guilty or not? He will.
"I think he trusts me," Mike tells his girlfriend, Jill. "Can you trust him?" Jill counters. After all, the guy did lie about being Mike. What's to stop him from lying to Mike? Would Mike be able to tell? Would he even want to?
Credits
Genre: Drama, Mystery/Suspense
Cast: Jonah Hill as Michael Finkel; James Franco as Christian Longo; Felicity Jones as Jill
Director: Rupert Goold
Distributor: Fox Searchlight
In Theaters: April 17, 2015
Reviewer: Paul Asay
source:http://www.pluggedin.com/movies/intheaters/true-story.aspx
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