"State of Play" BBC miniseries

It’s amazing how much of a difference a few hours can make.
I watched the critically-acclaimed BBC miniseries “State of Play” mere days after watching the feature film adaptation. I found the film to be very frustrating; little more than a collection of clichés from other (better) films about journalism and political corruption. From the character shortcuts to the suspiciously reactionary themes, State of Play seemed like a waste of a capable director and talented cast.

My disappointment in the film grew exponentially when I watched the miniseries. The story of a murdered young woman and her relationship to an up-and-coming politician seems pretty run-of-the-mill, but, in the hands of writer Paul Abbott and director David Yates, the serpentine plot unfolds in a way that never feels manipulative; rather, everything feels organic and character-driven.

And what great characters they are. From the persistent journalist to the reluctant informant to the shady politician, these characters benefit greatly from the miniseries format. These characters aren’t genre conventions. They are real people, allowed room to breathe. From one episode to the next, a character can go from likable to despicable without feeling inconsistent. It feels contradictory, to be sure, but in that messy, sympathetic way that real people have. We spend six hours with these characters, getting to know their strengths and their flaws, knowing what they can withstand and what they can’t.

It helps that these characters are played by committed actors; performers willing to do whatever the character requires. They are not self conscious, trying to milk more out of a scene than is there.

This is also a strength of the director, whose instinct is not to over-explain things. In the film, Russell Crowe’s seasoned journalist eats Pop-Tarts on the way to work, as he drives a beat-up jalopy. He is generally unkempt and doesn’t care. He’s a journalist, dammit, and can’t be bothered with such trivial things as looking presentable!

In trying to show us “everything we need to know” about the character in what he drives, how he dresses, et cetera, director Kevin McDonald overdoes it and creates a character that we’ve seen a hundred times before in other films.

The same character in the miniseries, however, is just a guy like everybody else. His car isn’t great, but it’s not crappy, either. He dresses casual, but not like he just rolled out of bed. In allowing the character to seem average, rather than trying to represent the essence of “experienced journalist,” David Yates embraces the spirit of journalism itself, staying true to the facts and not embellishing more than he has to.

This commitment to reality permeates the whole miniseries, which comes in handy during the more fantastic moments. Scenes of violence or other sensationalism are handled with the same matter-of-fact attitude as everything else, which helps us to buy something that we might not otherwise.

I never believed any of what was happening in the film State of Play, and yet, in the miniseries, every sordid story element felt like it could happen in the world that we currently occupy. The plot points themselves are almost exactly the same, but the miniseries has the advantage of time; time to immerse the viewer in this world of intrigue and deception. Given enough time to get to know the characters and situations, even the most ludicrous story developments can seem perfectly plausible.

That is why the film State of Play never stood a chance at being as good as the miniseries. And that is why I recommend anybody who is a fan of journalism movies or political thrillers go out and rent “State of Play” as soon as they can.