by Miguel E. Rodriguez
DIRECTOR: Oliver Stone
CAST: Eric Bogosian, Ellen Greene, John C. McGinley, Alec Baldwin, Michael Wincott
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 82% Certified Fresh
PLOT: A rude, contemptuous talk show host becomes overwhelmed by the hatred that surrounds his program just before it goes national.
Oliver Stone’s Talk Radio is entertaining and, at times, mesmerizing without being an altogether enjoyable experience. I salute the craft of the film and the bravura performance by Eric Bogosian, reprising the role he created on Broadway, but despite my high score, I’m not quite sure to whom I would recommend this film. I believe it’s an important placeholder in Stone’s filmography, coming as it does after Wall Street and before Born on the Fourth of July. It shows immense faith in the material and portrays its characters with brutal honesty. The closest comparison I can make is to the Safdie Brothers film Uncut Gems. Both films are fraught with tension, featuring unlikable fast-talking main characters who tend to step on or over or around the people closest to them to achieve their goal, or sometimes just to get their own way. They’re fascinating to watch and listen to, but I would not want to be stuck in an elevator with them.
Talk Radio centers on a Dallas radio shock jock named Barry Champlain. Bogosian’s look and performance seems so closely modeled on Howard Stern that I’m surprised Stern didn’t sue the filmmakers for not obtaining his permission to do so. (In fact, the Barry character is modeled after real life talk show host Alan Berg, who was gunned down by an ultra-right-wing group in 1984.) The whole first “act” of the film takes place in and around the broadcasting booth where Barry holds court, listening to and berating callers from all walks of life on topics ranging from “I Love Lucy” to the war on drugs to Holocaust deniers to one dude who eats dinner with his cat every night. If nothing else, this sequence boosted my respect for anyone in Barry’s line of work. To be able to take calls from random folks with random issues, and to somehow spin their questions or problems into a mini-monologue or diatribe that manages to entertain or offend – usually both – the caller or the listening audience – usually both – is a skill I will never possess. (Bogosian’s voice is tailor-made for the role, a nice sweet-spot baritone that sounds as if he’s been doing radio for years.)
Mixed in with the calls are the ones from clear-cut racists, warning Barry that they know where he lives, that they know “Champlain” is not his real last name, calling him Jew-boy and “f—-t”, sending him packages in the mail and claiming they’re bombs. One loathsome item is sent to him wrapped in a Nazi flag. Other callers don’t seem to have any affiliation at all aside from their utter hatred of Barry Champlain. There’s a scene where Barry has been invited to a public event to introduce someone. The moment he takes the stage, there are a few cheers that are eventually drowned out by a sea of boos and jeers in concert with a hailstorm of food and garbage thrown by the audience. Barry has the nerve to look a little shocked. I remember thinking, “How can you not expect this kind of reception?”
But then I remember thinking, about the audience members this time, “Well, if you hate him so much, why are you listening to his show?” The movie is making a statement about the bizarre relationship between the general public and entertainment celebrities that they “love to hate.” It seems to me their lives would be infinitely happier and less angry if they just switched over to NPR or smooth jazz once in a while. No one forces them, or anyone, to engage with a TV show or movie or radio show or anything else they don’t like. But with Barry, and presumably many other shock jocks in real life, people seem to need them, to use them as an excuse, I guess, to get riled up, to feel fueled by righteous anger. The shock jocks are handy targets, especially because the callers can remain anonymous, much like social media.
There is a long rant from Barry himself about this phenomenon late in the film. There was a plan for his show to go national, but it has been derailed for nebulous reasons, and so a broadcast intended for the entire country is still confined to the Dallas area. After an ill-advised guest appearance by a stoned idiot (Michael Wincott!) and a couple of calls that go completely off the rails, Barry loses it and tells his listeners:
“You’re happiest when others are in pain. That’s where I come in, isn’t it? I’m here to lead you by the hands through the dark forest of your own hatred and anger and humiliation. I’m providing a public service. … I come in here every night, I tear into you, I abuse you, I insult you, you just keep coming back for more. What’s wrong with you, why do you keep calling?”
In another movie, that kind of rant might skew towards comedy. Here, it serves as a painful peek into the psyche of a man who has a job that he’s good at, but there’s a part of him that despises himself for it, and that self-loathing has overflowed the boundaries of his own soul onto and over his listeners. Even he can’t understand what his audience is thinking. I found myself wondering if any other shock jocks out there might feel this way. I wonder if this might be one of Howard Stern’s favorite movies, or if it was one of Don Imus’s favorites. I have never listened to either one of their shows because…well, because that’s my right as a human being. But I wonder, nevertheless.
As I said before, I admire the craft of the film. Stone and his collaborators (especially cinematographer Robert Richardson) do a great job with creative camera angles, lighting, and editing for those long stretches of the film where we simply sit and listen to Barry Champlain talking to that endless stream of callers. Most of those calls end threateningly or are threatening throughout. This has the effect of creating tension almost out of thin air, a tension that suffuses the entire film. Are we going to get a maniac who takes Barry hostage on the air? When Barry unwisely invites a listener to come down to the station and appear on the air, we’re thinking, “You idiot, he’s going to kill you!” Even if none of that happens, we’re worried about it the entire time. While this method is an effective use of cinema, as I said before, I cannot honestly say I had a “good time” watching it. When the ending comes and the final credits roll, I will carefully say that there was a sense of relief, not at how it ended, but just relief that it ended.
Talk Radio is a well-made film featuring a stellar performance from Eric Bogosian. If you sit down to watch it, I believe you will feel exactly what Oliver Stone meant for you to feel. Just don’t expect it to tickle.
2 UNPAID MOVIE CRITICS!!!! 