Movie Review : "Spotlight" Destined to Be One of the Great Film Procedurals
By John Serba
"Spotlight" is destined to be one of the great film procedurals. A true-story chronicle of The Boston Globe's towering expose of the Catholic Church's sexual-abuse scandal, its driving force is due diligence in the service of a moral imperative. In the spirit of its subjects – investigative newspaper reporters – it's a workmanlike film, focused tightly on details. It's not flashy, just committed. Tom McCarthy directs with so much propulsive purpose, he renders the process of four journalists sifting needles from dozens of haystacks engrossing and suspenseful. He assembles a research montage, all quick cuts between libraries and cubicles, data entry and spreadsheets. A reporter makes a cross-town dash to a courthouse to request paperwork. One of the highest-drama moments is a slow zoom out from a speaker phone, the picture literally getting bigger as the source on the other end of the line tells four reporters some key information. The probability of such moments being suspenseful and thrilling is low, but here we are, eyes on the screen, enraptured. "Spotlight" compels us to pay attention. And you'll want to. Minutiae is drama when the stakes are high. The title refers to the Globe's Spotlight team, four journalists dedicated to deep-dive investigative pieces. Walter "Robby" Robinson (Michael Keaton) leads them. Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo), Sacha Pfeiffer (Rachel McAdams) and Matt Carroll (Brian d'Arcy James) do the bulk of the legwork. They work separate from the newsroom, in their own drab, windowless basement office. Rezendes is on the phone shaking down a source when Robby walks in, and says he's going to meet with the Globe's new editor-in-chief, fresh from a stint at The Miami Herald. They wonder if he'll be in tune with the work they do. They worry about job cuts. It's 2001. Turns out, Marty Baron (Liev Schreiber) challenges the Spotlight crew to look into allegations of child molestation by one Catholic priest. As many of us know, that one allegation became dozens in Boston alone, and many more worldwide. The veil was lifted on a significant psychosexual plague, covered up outside the courts by Catholic leaders and lawyers willing to capitalize. The tables were turned on the Catholic Church, a pillar of morality revealed to be rotten at its core. But "Spotlight" stays focused on Boston. It's a local story reported by locals – the reporters are all lapsed or casual Catholics with roots in the city. They understand the difficulties they face in exposing one of Boston's cornerstone institutions as corrupt. If that isn't ironic enough for you, the figurehead was Cardinal Bernard Francis Law (Len Cariou). Cardinal Law. A leader who believed the institution's sanctimonious status was more important than the laws of common decency – not to mention the laws of the land – and therefore the well-being of hundreds of children, many of whom led deeply troubled lives, if they didn't commit suicide. The film wisely keeps emotional responses – outrage, especially – to a simmer. McCarthy and co-scripter Josh Singer craft the story as a plea for a logical response: systemic malfeasance demands a systematic dismantling. It doesn't shy away from heavily dramatic, graphic testimonials from abuse survivors, who answer difficult questions posed by reporters who don't allow their empathy to eclipse the importance of the big picture. These moments are wrenching, but necessary. McCarthy allows one outburst, by Ruffalo, a necessary expulsion of sadness, exasperation, desperation and stress, a momentary release of tension so the film doesn't suffocate us. One of "Spotlight's" most powerful sequences begins with Ruffalo's outburst and concludes with a children's choir singing "Silent Night" as Rezendes stands in the back of the church, watching and listening, sad and angry about the reinterpretation of the song in such a context, but further galvanized by his mission. His work is as important as ever. "Spotlight" is sprinkled with similar bits of humanity so these characters are defined by something more than their jobs, thus avoiding cliched depictions of workaholics sacrificing themselves for a necessary cause. The ensemble work is exceptional, absent of the type of actorly flourishes that might distract from the film's authenticity. Although John Slattery ("Mad Men"), as a Globe news editor, and Stanley Tucci, as an eccentric lawyer bringing abuse survivors' cases to court, inject character-actor color into the narrative, no cast member is more important than another. They all function for the greater good of creating a superlative film. John Serba is film critic and entertainment reporter for MLive and The Grand Rapids Press. Email him at jserba@mlive.com or follow him on Twitter or Facebook. Contact: jserba@mlive.com
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