Anyone who has seen Kevin Macdonald’s Oscar winning documentary One Day In September or his debut feature The Last King of Scotland knows he can transform complex stories into edge-of-the-seat cinema without dumbing down.
The obvious choice then to condense Paul Abbott’s near six hour TV series into a more movie friendly 127 minutes. And while some of the nuance and subtlety (and characters) are absent, and contrivances are spotlighted by the swifter running time, this is a belting thriller in the great tradition of All The President's Men and The Parallax View.
Sticking closely to the original story, seasoned reporter Cal McAffrey (Crowe) is assigned to cover the shooting of a young bag snatcher and an eyewitness, but discovers the story goes wider, ensnaring his former roommate and tipped-for-presidency political hot shot Stephen Collins (Affleck).
Collins’ enquiry into security giant Pointcorps’ bid to become the major player in homeland security seems derailed when his researcher goes under a train, and evidence of their affair hits the news.
But, how accidental was the researcher's death? And why is McAffrey’s random shooting tying in with it? As big government and bigger business loom around them, McAffrey and rookie journo Della (McAdams) dig deep, while their spiky editor (Mirren) keeps the police and nervous shareholders at bay.
Proudly wearing its polemics on ink-stained sleeves, State of Play isn’t afraid of Big Ideas or a plot that zips along at a fair clip, trusting the audience to keep up.
The death of investigative journalism, a media cowed by shareholder responsibility, politicians in the pay of corporations, war profiteering: it’s all here and Macdonald’s triumph is making talk heavy scenes in newsrooms or seedy motels as gripping as a hospital assassination that bloodies the callow Della.
The cast are uniformly high calibre, from the tarnished armour golden boy Affleck (replacing an originally cast Edward Norton), to McAdams as a blogger journalist, the always good value Mirren (replacing Bill Nighy from the original), Wright Penn as Collins' wife, and Jason Bateman as a sweaty, love-to-hate-him PR scumball. Even the Kevin Spacey-alike from the Orange ads turns up.
But, the film belongs to Russell Crowe. Quick-witted and deft in a way that belies his paunch and washed-out features, Crowe’s McAffrey is the original's John Simm a few more bitter years down the line, but retaining a wry sparkle and nose for a good story.
His vanity free performance, replacing Brad Pitt who was forced to bow out, is again reminder of how great Crowe can be when not inflicting his poetry on awards shows.
Fans of the series will be disappointed that the investigative team is basically boiled down to McAffrey and Della (whose ditzy blogger is less engaging than Kelly Macdonald’s clued-up scribe), that it wheels out a few clichés (disgruntled war vet, cat and mouse pursuit in an underground car park), and slightly fumbles the original’s climactic reveal.
But, the pros, including sharp dialogue from a triumvirate of writers including Bourne scribbler Tony Gilroy, outweigh the cons in a polished, engrossing whydunnit you’ll want to see more than once.
Rob Daniel