I saw The Insider, leaving only The Green Mile as unseen among
the four nominees. It is a flawed film, sometimes engaging,
sometimes tendentious, finally cracking under the weight of its
own holiness and the influence of its primary consultant, former
"60 Minutes" producer Lowell Bergman (Al Pacino). In
the end, goodness and Bergman become synonymous, and The Insider
fails.
The film purports to dramatize the Jeffrey Wigand story (Wigand
is played by Russell Crowe), a former Brown & Williamson
director of research who was fired (he says for writing a
memorandum about an additive he felt dangerous) and as a
requirement of severance, asked to sign a confidentiality
agreement. He did, and the first half of the film centers on
Bergman, who stumbles on Wigand in an unrelated matter, coaxing
the reluctant scientist to uncover the fact that big tobacco was
"spiking" its cigarettes by allegedly messing with
nicotine levels by use of the chemical additive coumarin.
Bergman is successful. Wigand tapes a "60 Minutes"
segment with Mike Wallace (Christopher Plummer), becomes
embroiled in Mississippi tobacco litigation, and, his life falls
apart, as Big Tobacco graduates from harassing Wigand (allegedly
stalking he and his family, leaving a bullet in his mailbox,
sending death threats by e-mail) to unleashing Terry Lenzner's
private investigation firm against Wigand in an effort to smear
him and destroy his credibility (for those keeping score,
Lenzner's firm is the same one used by the President during his
recent troubles).
Here, the film is at its zenith. Michael Mann utilizes a
frenetic, close-in camera, heightening the tension of Wigand, a
man who was not particularly balanced prior to his reneging on
the agreement and taking on his former employer. The scenes
between Bergman and Wigand are also compelling, as Bergman
cleverly wrests Wigand's concerns away without seeming to do any
such thing. Mann also portrays newsroom and corporate discussion
with ease, and the relationship between Bergman and Wallace is
revealed as an easy give-and-take between two men who complement
each other well.
The problem occurs mid-way, where you realize exactly who the
primary consultant was to the filmmakers - Bergman. He becomes
almost Christ-like. Pacino as Bergman is given scene after scene
wherein he pays tribute to himself, a paragon of source-protecting
and journalistic ethics. As the speeches mount, you long for a
return to Wigand, who, as played by Crowe, is flawed, intricate
and fascinating. And if you can't have Wigand, the mildly
conflicted but ultimately self-interested Wallace will do. But
this is not to be. Mann (or consultant Bergman) insists that we
know who is great and good in this cautionary tale about
corporate power, viewer interest be damned.
The film also suffers from stasis in the second half, as more
and more of the scenes are telephone conversations. Mann does
what he can to make the calls visually interesting (one call has
Bergman calling Wigand from the ocean), but a phone call is a
phone call, and too many of them create drowsiness. Worse, the
imagery is Bergman, alone, in the sea. Yet another tribute to
this marvelous crusader. In disgust over the picture, the real
Mike Wallace noted that "Lonely sainthood is what Lowell is
after." It shows, and their personal bitterness aside, it
gravely hurts the film.
Finally, the political aspect of the picture results in one
truly awkward moment - a speech given to Plummer after the Wigand
story has been pulled because of corporate/legal considerations.
If you don't know, Wallace was unhappy about his portrayal in
early drafts of the script, and his in-your-face put-down of two
corporate attorneys is clearly a tacked on sop.
As for the continual reality versus film discussion, while
Wigand is portrayed as a tense, introspective and tortured man,
the film clearly gives credence to his allegations of harassment
against Brown and Williamson. It also supports the idea that
Wigand was trustworthy, and Big Tobacco efforts to show otherwise
were largely an unfounded smear campaign. As a matter of fact,
Wigand was a great deal more hinky than portrayed in the film,
and Mann glosses over the fact that the FBI thought Wigand put a
bullet in his own mailbox and sent his family a threatening email
by suggesting that certain FBI agenst were part of Big Tobacco's
assault on the poor man. Ed Armento, a retired, 30-year FBI vet
who was sent to investigate the "death threat," said an
analysis of the physical evidence clearly suggested that Wigand
himself most likely prepared, planted and then discovered in his
mailbox the bullet.
Moreover, Mann makes up out of whole cloth a scene where
Wigand is shadowed and vaguely threatened by a stranger as he hit
golf balls at a range (Wigand admits it never happened). Finally,
Wigand's ex-wife - who, in the film, receives the email and
rushes out of the house with her two daughters - has stated that
the scene is "fiction." Indeed, one the bodyguards then-hired
to protect Wigand suspected that Wigand was perepetrating the
threats against himself.
