How to Handle a Room Full of Characters Who All Look the Same: The Trial of the Chicago 7 Review

  

Spoilers but it’s history.

As the world moves closer to a supposed Oscars (who continually counter by moving further and further away), Netflix’s submissions for your consideration get significantly less subtle. Their latest addition to the pack is a timely political courtroom drama written and directed by film bro favorite Aaron Sorkin and starring two Academy Award nominees (Sacha Baron Cohen and Michael Keaton), and two winners (Eddie Redmayne and Mark Rylance).  

The Trial of the Chicago 7 follows the trial of seven activists accused of inciting riots at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. To live in 2020 is to have heard comparisons to 1968; it’s chaos, there are riots in the streets, it’s an election year, democracy, our lives, are on the line! It is tempting to feel as though this movie is fulfilling a cliche that didn’t even exist at the time of its production, the same way that Hitler documentaries made in the 1980s feel just a little too on-the-nose when he proudly declares that he will “make Germany great again.” However, the quick pace and witty dialogue Sorkin is known for allow for it to be the strangest bit of escapism for something so thoroughly grounded in a crushing reality. 

As the number in the title may suggest, the movie deals with a large ensemble cast, and no real ‘main’ character. There are seven defendants (eight in the first act), four lawyers, multiple families, cops, and cohorts, and one very nasty judge. And because this is a story pulled right from a page in the history books in which many people belonged to different groups with similar ideas, it can be sometimes be difficult to keep track of and to differentiate each individual storyline. However, Chicago 7 offers a masterclass in characterization, and how one can use that, and that alone, to drive a plot forward. 

The movie opens with the neatly spliced montage that all movies set in the 60s are required by law to contain: Johnson drafts the troops, King is shot, Vietnam is bombed, Kennedy is shot, all backed by a recognizable rock ballad. However, when the audience is just settling in, expecting that they are learning about the historical context, Sorkin is actually quietly assigning roles to each of the characters, giving them an archetype that will allow the audience to understand their motivations and viewpoints in the later scenes which will feature multiple characters who are ideologically on the same side heatedly clashing heads. 

Rennie Davis is the first of the seven to appear on screen. He gives a lecture about what is happening in Vietnam. He blames the Americans. He gives a quick statement of horror, then he immediately passes to Tom. 

Tom Hayden walks from the side of the classroom, flips on a lightswitch, and takes center stage. He moves from Rennie’s discussion of current events to the future, and what young people need to do to take action. He exhibits professorial mannerisms.

Abbie Hoffman leans casually to one side and makes a joke to a crowded room, spotlight directed at his face. 

Jerry Rubin takes over, with such seamlessness that its immediately apparent that these two work on the same wavelength. When one pauses, the other picks up. When one is speaking, the other nods. They know to take what will hit them, and they do so with an air of almost flippant confidence that is infectious to some and infuriating to others. 

Dave Dellinger is introduced saying a single word to his son, “nonviolence.” He’s the dad that is clinging tight to his morals, reassuring his son that everything is going to be fine.

And finally, Bobby Seale glides through, the only one in motion, asserting that if things stay cool they will be cool, but if the police decide to start a riot then they will not be peacefully beaten into the ground. He talks fast, with many people moving around him at once. He is the only one who is shown to be in, really in, a large, well-oiled operation, whereas all the others are clearly casting themselves as the main character.

Bobby Seale then concludes the montage with the manifesto of the protests, “Martin’s dead, Malcolm’s dead, Medgar’s dead, Bobby’s dead. Jesus is dead. They tried it peacefully, we’re gonna try something else.”

In the next few scenes, which are paced with such urgency that they blend together in an almost breathless montage, the courtroom staples are introduced: Richard Schultz, the lawyer for the prosecution; William Kunstler, the 7’s defense; and the incomparable Judge Julius Hoffman. These three represent the spectrum of lawyeral politicism. Judge Hoffman, firmly established early on not to be related to defendant Abbie Hoffman, is tough and obnoxious. He is drunk with power and dishes out counts of contempt of court like candy on Halloween. Kunstler is frustrated and believes in his cause. Schultz stands exactly in the middle, believing in some fantasy that separates the job from the consequences, as lawyer as lawyers come. However, each of these characters is revealed throughout the movie distinctly through clinging to these characteristics. It may seem that the roles are reversed when the stakes are raised, but they are all acting exactly within the limits that have been set for their characters. 

Tom Hayden and Abbie Hoffman are the two characters placed opposite each other. Though ideologically on the same side, they have opposite approaches. Tom Hayden is the straight-laced, sweater-wearing, conscientious-objecting organizer. He speaks in quotable moments and is already drafting his next op-ed in his head. Abbie Hoffman does stand-up, sometimes on a stage and sometimes at the bench. He is a character for the revolution. 

This culminates in a scene showcasing what anyone who has seen the Social Network knows that Aaron Sorkin does best: arguments between friends. Guided by a simple question with horrifying implications: aren't you kind of glad we’re here? Without the trial, without the riots, without the revolution, who would Abbie Hoffman be? But ever determent to drop the mic, they don’t stop there: if Kennedy had gotten the nomination, who would Tom Hayden be?

    The Trial of the Chicago 7 is an entertaining and thoughtful movie about who leads a revolution. It can be an exhausting watch only if you don’t allow the graphics of a horrifying and stylish America grappling with its views on race, power, and democracy to be some sort of morbid escapist past than an all-too-real present. The reality can come later, after the credits have rolled, but for its neat two hour runtime, you are free to live in a fantasy where you are allowed to be relieved that things like this don’t happen anymore.