As I have mentioned in previous reviews, there are gaps in my education, especially in more recent American history. In the 80s and early 90s, while I was in school, events that happened in the 60s were not really covered. We were more focused on the founding of America and the wars fought in the years since. What little we did learn about the 60s and 70s was focused more on the Vietnam War than it was on the protestors and their clashes with law enforcement and the government. We were not kept ignorant of the subject, but if it was taught at all, it was touched on very lightly. Most of what I now know about those times I have learned on my own through a combination of personal research and the information I gleaned from the movies.
All of this is a roundabout way of saying when I first watched The Trial of the Chicago 7, I was not aware of the real events it was depicting. Writer/Director Aaron Sorkin was tapping into a bit of history that I was woefully ignorant of. This film works on that level as well as on a level for viewers who were intimately familiar with those events. It takes liberties with timelines and events for the sake of simplification and dramatic license, but it doesn’t outright lie to the audience.
It does, however, have a point-of-view it is trying to get across and knows exactly how to manipulate audiences’ emotions as it gets that point across. We are meant to be firmly on the side of the protestors, not the side of law enforcement nor the side of the government. There may be some who are so calloused or blinded by extreme loyalty to the government that they will not be swayed in any way—John Wayne would have been had he lived to see this movie—but those are few and far between. This film paints most officers and government workers as obstacles or thugs abusing their power.
For those not familiar with the history, the central drama is the government trying eight men for the crime of crossing state lines with the intent to incite a riot. These men are Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen), Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong), Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne), Rennie Davis (Alex Sharp), David Dellinger (John Carroll Lynch), Lee Weiner (Noah Robbins), John Froines (Daniel Flaherty), and Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II); arrested when a riot broke out during their attempts to protest the Vietnam War at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in the summer of 1968.
Of these eight men, one is a member of the Black Panthers, and he protests his innocence, having not participated in the riots. That would be Bobby Seale, who was only in Chicago for a few hours and wasn’t involved in the riots. While the other seven are being represented by defense counsel William Kunstler (Mark Rylance), Bobby’s attorney has had a medical emergency, and the judge overseeing the trial, Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella), refuses to grant him a postponement nor even acknowledge that Bobby is being denied his rights to be represented during the trial.
In fact, Judge Hoffman shows nothing but contempt for any of the eight men on trial, refusing to be impartial and even using shady tactics to shield the jury from important information. Though it is not outright stated, it is also heavily implied that he is complicit in manipulating several of the more sympathetic jurors to back out of the trial by making it appear that they and their families are being threatened by the Black Panthers.
Representing the government and the city of Chicago is Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), assistant federal prosecutor. Richard doesn’t agree with the tactics being used to bring these men to trial but is willing to do his job for the state. But as the trial commences and it becomes more and more obvious that the court is not only biased against those on trial but silencing them or outright dismissing anything that supports their case, he grows disillusioned by the whole circus.
We see the events leading up to the riot from the point-of-views of each of the seven protagonists with the sole exception being Bobby, who serves as a key example of how unhinged this trial actually was. By piecing out the events throughout the course of the film, it allows for a mystery of sorts to play out before us. How did the riot start? Who is guilty of what? Were any of the seven really guilty of inciting it? The answers will surprise those unfamiliar with the events in play. Most of what we see shows the seven trying to be peaceful, even conscientious of the safety of those around them, yet determined to get near the DMC to make their voices heard. When fists do fly, it is in response to actions being perpetrated on them first. This is fairly one-sided, too. In one extreme situation, two men are seen sexually assaulting a female protestor and having to be fought off by one of the seven, who covers her up just in time before an officer arrests him rather than the assaulters.
Were the real demonstrations this one-sided? Maybe. Maybe not. I wasn’t there. I suspect there is more to it than what Aaron Sorkin is showing here because that would muddy up the drama and shift audience loyalties a little. It works better as a dramatic narrative if we are firmly on the side of the seven, even in the final act when the truth begins to come out. The final revelation, and the way it is rationalized away, satisfies both sides of the argument, giving us someone to blame for the riots while also exonerating them for being simply misunderstood. It boils down to how a statement was phrased versus how it was meant to be interpreted. The line is: “If blood is going to flow, then let it flow all over the city.” This line incites the riots after the police have brutally beaten in the head of one of the protestors. The man who yells it into the crowd claims later that it was meant to be said as: “If our blood is going to flow…” Because of all we have seen leading up to this moment, we are inclined to believe this explanation, but it can be interpreted either way.
This trial is presented as a major injustice in the American legal system. The judge should have been removed from the trial, and a mistrial should have been declared early on. How that didn’t happen is incomprehensible, yet that is what happened. It seems farcical, like something pulled from The Bonfire of the Vanities, but, as I have said in the past: “Truth is stranger than fiction.” We are told that, despite the efforts of this judge and the legal representatives of the state, when this court decision was brought up on appeals, everything that was decided here was overturned, and the state elected not to go to trial again. If this were a fictional trial, there would be an “innocent” verdict and cheering in the courtroom at the end, lawyer and clients clapping each other on the backs for beating the system. Instead, it ends on a more honest, emotional, note and the news that, though they were all found guilty and sentenced to prison, that verdict was overturned on appeal.
Rights were trampled on. Due justice was denied these men. The police overstepped their bounds and used unnecessary force. None of these things are under dispute. The film paints the seven men, and Bobby, in the best possible light, and that is probably, most likely even, an exaggeration to sway audience opinion. Most egregious, though, is how Bobby is treated. The judge refuses to even acknowledge that his right to representation is being denied him and even has him forcibly removed from the courtroom, beaten, tied up, and gagged, and put back out on display like that in front of the courtroom audience, the jury, and everyone else present. It’s simply appalling, and he is rightfully called out for this behavior, citing racial prejudice. Even the prosecuting attorney, Schultz, is visibly shocked by this behavior. Again, I ask, how was this judge not reported to the board and removed from this trial?
This is a fascinating bit of history. It’s also a frustrating bit of history watching how this all played out. Aaron Sorkin has done a good job keeping us firmly on the side of the Chicago 7, almost to the point that we question the accuracy of the portrayals. Fortunately, none of the men on trial are portrayed too saintly, though David Dellinger, a Boy Scout leader and family man, comes close. Even he loses his temper and strikes a court officer at one point, though. Abbie Hoffman is the most interesting to watch because, behind his sarcasm and stand-up material, there is some brains there. Sacha Baron Cohen plays him like a stoner and a cut-up, but there are hints early on that he is smarter than he is putting on, especially in his scenes trying to secure permits for the protest. This film juggles a lot of characters, and Aaron Sorkin is up to the task, making sure they all get their time to shine and none of them are simply background characters. That makes the revelation in the final act all the more surprising because it involves a character we think we know without actually betraying what we do know about him.
Academy Award Nominations:
Best Picture: Marc Platt and Stuart Besser
Best Supporting Actor: Sacha Baron Cohen
Best Original Screenplay: Aaron Sorkin
Best Cinematography: Phedon Papamichael
Best Film Editing: Alan Baumgarten
Best Original Song: “Hear My Voice” - Music and Lyrics by Daniel Pemberton and Celeste Waite
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Release Date: September 25, 2020
Running Time: 130 minutes
Rated R
Starring: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Sacha Baron Cohen, Daniel Flaherty, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Michael Keaton, Frank Langella, John Carroll Lynch, Eddie Redmayne, Noah Robbins, Mark Rylance, Alex Sharp, and Jeremy Strong
Directed by: Aaron Sorkin
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