Todos os Homens do Presidente

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This dramatization of how it was discovered that the burglary of the Democratic Party headquarters at the Watergate Hotel in Washington, D. C. was funded and directed by the Nixon White House is a lot better than it has any right to be. Given the tedious, non-glamorous and frankly boring leg- and phone-work that is often the lot of the investigative reporter, it is surprising that this is a very interesting movie even if you don't care two beans about the Watergate scandal. In fact, this is really more about how the story was put together than it is about the scandal itself. It is also a lot less political than might be expected.

It stars Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman as Washington Post reporters, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, and they are good, with excellent support from Jason Robards (Oscar as Best Supporting Actor) playing Post Executive Editor Ben Bradlee, and Jane Alexander as an innocent caught up in the machinations. But what makes the movie work is the Oscar-winning script adapted from the Woodward and Bernstein best seller by that old Hollywood pro, William Goldman (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid 1969, Misery 1990, etc.). What he does so very well, even though we know the outcome, is to establish and maintain the tension as Woodward and Bernstein run all over town chasing leads and misdirections. He accomplishes this by putting just enough varied obstacles in the path of our intrepid reporters, notably the Washington bureaucracy and the understandably cautious senior editors at the Post.

The direction by Alan J. Pakula (Comes a Horseman 1978, Sophie's Choice 1982, etc.) focuses the scenes nicely, keeps the camera where it belongs, and highlights the story with a shadowy Deep Throat (Hal Holbrook), skitterish sources, and a vivid recreation of a top American newspaper at work. I was especially enthralled to see the interactions among the reporters, the editors and the sources. I thought they all looked and sounded authentic, Redford's good looks having nothing to do with the story, which was right, and Hoffman's flair for the intense reigned in, which was necessary. The diffidence of Alexander's character and the soft pushiness of Woodward and Bernstein were tempered just right. Bradlee's stewardship of the story and his ability to take a calculated risk seemed true to life.

Some details that stood out: Redford's hunt and peck typing contrasted with Hoffman's all fingers flying; the talking heads on the strategically placed TVs, reacting (via actual video footage) to the developing story--deny, deny, deny! of course. The thin reporter's spiral notebooks being pulled out and then later flipped through to find a quote. The bright lights of the newsroom looking expansive with all those desks as though there were mirrors on the walls extending an illusion. The seemingly silly tricks to get a source to confirm: just nod your head; I'll count to ten and if you're still on the line... And you know what I liked best? No annoying subplot!

The rather abrupt resolution with the teletype banging out the leads to a sequence of stories that led to President Nixon's resignation had just the right feel to it, especially for those of us who have actually experienced the goosepimply sensation that comes with watching a breaking story come in over the teletype. The quick wrap-up surprised me, but delighted me at the same time.

Bottom line: an excellent movie that wears well, a fine example of some of Hollywood's top professionals at work some thirty years ago. #30

A central problem for all thrillers is that the need to find twist after clever twist means that stories escalate quickly into realms of implausibility; an apparently boring tale of low level corruption soon brings down the President of the United States. Which gives 'All the President's Men' a huge advantage over most thrillers, because this film (based on the Watergate incident in 1972) can tell such a story and support it on the basis that all of it is true. Director Alan Pakula, something of a conspiracy thriller specialist, here does a great job in adapting the book written by the journalists who broke the story: the film is never overly melodramatic, but is always tense, and although it has pair of heroes, we're left in no doubt of their selfish motivations as they work potential witnesses any way they can in their bid to nail the truth. Unlike most clichéd detective thrillers, the true nature of the crime is unknown (and arguably, remains unknown to this day), so even though we know what happened, there's an air of unpredictability to the story; reporters Woodward (played by Robert Redford) and Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) don't know what they are looking for, even though they are certain that (somewhere) it is there. The plot is nicely paced, and even dares to skip lightly over the eventual vindication of the journalist's hunches, preferring to concentrate on how it felt for them, chasing this huge story, over a mere historical reconstruction of President Nixon's demise. Indeed, although Nixon appears in this film, it's only on television, and played by himself. This means that what we don't get is a wider analysis: a theory as to the true motive of Nixon's actions is hinted at but nothing more; nor does the film tell us whether it regards his behaviour as a disgrace to modern politics, or an mere symptom of them. In this respect, Oliver Stone's (more fanciful) 'Nixon' makes an interesting companion piece. But as a complex, gripping and understated thriller, 'All the President's Men' has few equals. Truth is stranger than fiction indeed.

ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN (1976) **** Dustin Hoffman, Robert Redford, Jason Robards, Jane Alexander, Martin Balsam, Jack Warden, Hal Holbrook, Ned Beatty. Superb adaptation of Washington Post's scathing historical expose by intrepid reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein (played with energetic paranoia by Golden Boy and Dusty to perfection) on the infamous Watergate break-in and the ultimate downfall of the Nixon presidency with cover ups, cloak-and-dagger informant `Deep Throat', conspiracies and Washington as a fixed metaphor as a quagmire sucking down America's freedoms with only the dynamic duo as our only hope! Robards won a richly deserved Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his portrayal of crusty yet fair editor Ben Bradlee. Suspensefully directed by Alan J. Pakula. Look sharp for Polly Holliday (aka tv's `Flo') as a repellent secretary. Also won Oscars for Best Screenplay Adaptation by William Goldman, Art Direction and Sound. Alexander was nominated for Best Supporting Actress.

After the flawed but fascinating 'Parallax View', Alan J. Pakula learns from his mistakes, and delivers a more logical and satisfying story in 'All the Presidents Men'. Everything about this movie is of the highest quality. Another bravado turn from cinematographer Gordon Willis creates a world of intensely glaring lights and ominously inky shadows. Subtle and realistic performances from the entire cast create a believable pressroom atmosphere of rivalry, idealism and integrity.

The story has been the prototype for every conspiracy thriller since, establishing all the motifs that would eventually be exhausted by 'The X-Files' and become cliché. The narrative flows smoothly, and Goldman does an excellent job of reigning in a potentially incomprehensible plot line, a feat that won him a much-deserved Oscar. The story does, however, slow down in spots, becoming repetitious, and could have benefited from a little judicious pruning.

An excellent movie, that not only sheds light on a historic episode without the usual glossy spin, but highlights the pitiful condition of modern journalism, a fall from grace that in time will prove to far more terrifying and long reaching than anything perpetrated by Nixon and his cronies.

"All the President's Men" (1976) follows the investigation led by Washington Post journalists Bob Woodward (Robert Redford) and Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) on the Watergate scandal, running parallel with President Nixon's campaign for reelection. As the two lead characters see their investigation unfold, hardly, must I say, they get banged down by your usual, but not quite so, "newspaper" drama : missing sources, pettiness of the story, abstinence and denial by the witnesses, lack of hard evidence and, above all, threat to the survival of the Post itself.

This is a gripping time piece. Almost half of the story is spent at the newspaper's offices, overshadowed by the permanent key-tapping of ardent typewriters and the constant chatter of young secretaries, which add a great sense of urgency and authenticity to a typical 1970s Washington workplace, where Woodward and Bernstein, sitting face-to-face in an odd, diagonal line that becomes a subtle symbol for a head-butting professional relationship, learn to first tolerate each other (and each other's egos) before uniting to unveil the truth. The interactions between Hoffman and Redford throughout the movie are as delightful to watch as they are crucial to making William Goldman's Academy Award-winning script reach its climax. We, as spectators, pay attention to these two very powerful actors' every word with such care and eagerness without even seeing through their banter and mistakes, breathing sighs of relief when catching a loose second and setting the alarm as the next one arrives. In the meantime, we get glimpses of written notes swinging in every direction from Woodward, mainly, creating a true journalistic feel, and enthralling conversations over the phone from both characters, desperately attempting to connect with not only the people behind the scandal, but also with the obscure situation on which they vainly light their lamps on, to a point where the phone becomes a mere extension of the hand and the absence of voice on the other end of the wire provokes an expression of total indifference. The story hides behind this progressive and discreet line of events without ever declaring "right" or "wrong", and plays with the writers' heads, leading them to frustration, unaided by the pressure of their superiors, the Metro News' supervisor Harry Rosenfeld (Jack Warden) and the Post's Ben Bradlee (Jason Robards, in a sublime performance).

The remainder of the movie explores Woodward and Bernstein's (or "Woodstein", as Bradlee once cries out, interrupting the high-pitched noise of the office for more than two seconds) attempts to force the truth (or, at least, parcels of it) out of various mouths (White House bookkeepers, attorneys, lawmen, you name it) and shows with true excitement the abusive paraphrasing and deduction the two men make with a less-than-minimal amount of words or simple nods from the speakers (or non-speakers). In fact, the two are so convinced of the story's credibility that they unequivocally trade sentences for common sense, really. This is where the movie falters; its will and urgency to depict these moments rapidly makes them seem trivial and forgettable. For instance, an "informant" of Woodward's ("Deep Throat", as they call him) only agrees to meet with him in a dark, underground parking, but the movie never truly gives his character the proper gravitas and importance that his name really bears, historically speaking.

Nevertheless, "All the President's Men" is the prototype of a solid and honest depiction of a historical event or, in this case, a more or less extended period of time marked by historical events. Alan J. Pakula's camera is turning around America's capital with remarkable ease, giving us the feeling that we have already been there, with Woodward and Bernstein, and capturing the charm of residential homes, the cacophony of midnight streets and the peacefulness of everyday places, such as libraries and diners. As already mentioned, the dynamics of the characters and of their relationships elevate the movie way above average, but the thoroughness to get the story "just the right way" makes it even greater. At some points during the movie, we are projected with real-time speeches from Nixon and his entourage or with journalistic coverage from 1972 and 1973 on a small television set in the office, further down the road from Woodward's small cabinet. As we exchange glances from the coverage on TV to Woodward's continuous typing, we take a step back and contemplate the successful effort of converting the broadcasted story into a much more intimate one.