With a landmark film like All the President’s Men, it’s easy to focus on the destination, rather than the journey. Yes, Bob Woodward and Carl Berstein tugged a thread until it unraveled a presidency, but the real glory of this story is their dogged determination to follow that act to its logical conclusion. In the beginning, they were fools chasing a lead nobody wanted. As they drew closer to the truth, the world took notice and things got ugly. Before it was over, the Watergate investigation would threaten the very lives of the men who pursued it. Much of their perseverance owes something to audacity and ambition, but there is also an undeniable and underrated nobility to it. In adapting this story to the big screen, the filmmakers behind All the President’s Men deliver two of cinema’s most remarkable heroes.
Based on the book by Woodward and Bernstein, the film begins with the bungled break-in at the Democratic National Headquarters at the Watergate Hotel. The Washington Post sends Woodward (Robert Redford), a noob reporter, to cover what would seem to be a pretty blah story. At the arraignment, one of the burglars admits to employment with the CIA, immediately piquing Woodward’s attention. From here, he traces the burglars to Howard Hunt, a political operative on the White House payroll. Ben Bradlee (Jason Robards), the Post‘s managing editor, doesn’t see much substance in this investigation. Still, he trusts Woodward’s instincts and lets his young reporter run with the story.
Around this time, local news editor Harry Rosenfeld (Jack Warden) assigns Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) to work with Woodward on the story. At first, the two reporters don’t seem to mesh: Bernstein is brash and hyperactive, with a constant stream of caffeine and nicotine flowing through his body. Meanwhile, Woodward is more personable, methodical, and patient. Ultimately, the men strike up a Lennon-McCartney dynamic, where the creative tension forces both men to ratchet up their game.
As their investigation continues, Woodward connects with an informant (Hal Holbrook) on deep background, codenamed “Deep Throat.” (Decades later, this informant was revealed to be Mark Felt, the Deputy Director of the FBI.) Their conversations take place in the eerie stillness of a parking garage, where every footfall seems to echo for miles. In most of their interactions, Deep Throat seems to toy with Woodward: His statements wobble on a highwire between revealing everything and saying nothing.
Deep Throat does offer one useful tidbit, and it comes in the form of a catchphrase: “Follow the money.” Woodward and Bernstein spend much of the film’s second act doing just that. This leads them to the Committee to Re-Elect the President–known as CREEP–and a slush fund created with campaign donations. It soon becomes clear that the break-in was just the tip of the iceberg.
While most of these plot points will feel familiar to anyone who knows anything about Watergate, here’s the best thing about this movie: Even if you don’t know and didn’t live through this time, All the President’s Men still presents its story in a way that’s both informative and gripping. Director Alan J. Pakula goes above and beyond for authenticity. He films the break-in at the actual Watergate Complex, and even uses the actual security guard (Frank Wills) who found the duct tape over the parking garage door. The offices at The Washington Post get replicated in meticulous detail–there are even rumors that Pakula used the exact same printer paper. Everything about this movie puts you in the thick of the Watergate investigation.
That even goes for its technical aspects. Legendary cinematographer Gordon Willis films the Post scenes under the intense glare of florescent lights, but everywhere else in deep shadows. Even when Woodward and Bernstein hitch an innocuous ride in an elevator, Willis makes it visually ominous. On the audio side, composer David Shire deploys minimal music, except for the sustained bass octaves of a keyboard and a humid chorus of film noir brass. The atmosphere of All the President’s Men is perfectly designed to draw you to the edge of your seat.
Of course, none of that would matter without the lead performers. It’s always a gamble casting players as well-known as Redford and Hoffman in a film of this importance. Big stars can lead to big distractions; some will even chew the scenery to keep all the focus on them. Not so here. In fact, both actors actually use their well-known personas to serve the characters: Redford’s Woodward is charming, earnest, and deceptively clever. On the flip, Hoffman brings an edge of anxiety to the tightly-wound Bernstein. He’s twitchy, irritable, and ferociously ambitious. A special note also goes to the Oscar-winning Robards, who plays Bradlee as laid-back, brilliant, and thoroughly intimidating.
Some viewers might feel that All the President’s Men ends with too hard of a stop. That’s perfectly valid, but I would argue that the heart of this story was not in its ending. Nixon’s administration was left in tatters, but everybody knows that part. (The image of the disgraced ex-president throwing a strangely triumphant farewell from the door of Marine One has become an enduring piece of visual irony.) No, this story is really about the tireless work of two young reporters dedicated to the discovery of truth, and the newspaper that stuck behind them. This is one of the greatest American films of all time.
138 min. PG. Tubi.
