After 13 years in development, Aaron Sorkin’s take on a 1969 American show trial emerges into a moment of appalling relevance. As they do on screen, protestors crowd American streets. Police brutality — especially towards Black people — remains a serious threat. And the executive branch still tries to abuse its power and use the courts politically. Far from being a historical drama, Sorkin’s star-studded howl at injustice feels like a particularly eloquent news bulletin.
The flashpoint is the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, where youthful protestors clashed with the police. Sorkin quickly establishes his players, the scene and the stakes, then skips to several months later, as ambitious prosecutor Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is ordered by US Attorney General John Mitchell (John Doman) – painted here as a Trump surrogate who blows a personal slight into a political crusade – to open federal proceedings against the leaders of several protest groups.
The defendants are a ragtag band, running from hippy dropouts to long-standing pacifist campaigners. Almost immediately, Eddie Redmayne's aggressively moderate Tom Hayden clashes with Sacha Baron Cohen and Jeremy Strong's counter-culture jokers, who are committed to taking the trial as un-seriously as possible. Black Panther leader Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), who was barely in Chicago during the unrest, is lumped in with the rest only "to make them look scarier", he says.
The hostility of the increasingly unhinged Judge Hoffman (Frank Langella) leaves Seale without legal counsel; the rest are represented by Mark Rylance’s idealistic, crafty Bill Kunstler. Baron Cohen's Abbie Hoffman (no relation to the judge) is convinced the trial is political; he is not wrong. But Hayden isn't wrong to be worried for their fates if they act up either, because the government is determined to make them an example – by any means necessary, including subverting the judicial process in jaw-dropping, horrifying fashion.
Sorkin’s hyper clued-up style fits these thorny characters, all passion and no personal relationships. But he’s not always as sure-footed a director. Lazily, this repeats the old myth about bra-burning as visual shorthand to indicate the presence of women’s libbers at the protests, the limited action scenes feel muddily executed and there’s some sentimentality towards the end. But credit where it’s due: Sorkin also gives us some of the best scenes of the year. There's a giddily clever opening montage against Daniel Pemberton’s nervy score to introduce the defendants, and thrilling, fast-paced courtroom scenes. He also gets the casting right: it’s Baron Cohen’s best performance ever, and he makes a superb double act with Strong’s Jerry Rubin. Redmayne is perfectly likeable and irksome as Hayden, and Mateen makes a compelling, charismatic Seale.
You’ll wish that they all had more screen-time and pine for a considerably longer mini-series version by the end. As the world fights the same battles 50 years on, it’s deeply cathartic to watch these guys fight the power. Sorkin doesn’t hide their faults and infuriating shortcomings, but above all he reminds us of their heroism — and that’s something we desperately need now.