The Network Always Wins
We're reaching back to a classic on this one... Once again a paper originally written for Gary Schnittjer's Film, Culture, and Theology class, Sydney Lumet's 1976 Oscar winning film Network is a must see for film buffs who are curious about the effect of the TV upon the world of filmmaking. Lumet is a phenomenal director who's repertoire of films puts most other directors to shame; with over 50 films made since 1957, he is also known for being the leader of a pack of directors that made successful transitions from TV to film. This move from one medium to the other can almost be felt in this movie's "affair" with TV.
Once again, beware, for here be spoilers...
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From the moment of Network’s opening montage of Howard Beale in competition with other newscasters of his day, the narration of his declining rating and market share quickly gives us the sense that it is more than simply his shrinking audience that we are to be concerned about. In a way that will become more apparent as the film goes on, it is the very value of Beale’s life that is tied to his market share, a sad fact that goes far beyond the central characters in the story. In a world driven by TV broadcasting and high-stakes consumerism, there is only one bottom line: how one can ultimately turn the events of life into profit. Sydney Lumet’s Network grants us a comical – and at times frightening – vision of a world where capitalism itself has become a god to be served, and a man’s value is determined by how much money he can make for his superiors. It is a world not too far from our own.
As the film progresses through the stages of Beale’s psychotic – or prophetic – break, we are taken along with him as he experiences the loss of his job and then the exhilaration of on-air revenge as he begins to simply say how he feels, live and uncut, becoming essentially the first shock-jock. While today his comments would not necessarily be taken as radically, at the time, Beale is like nothing else on television. Unfortunately for him, however, his ratings skyrocket. While at first this seems to be a boon, it only serves to fuel the very machine that he is raging against. Particularly telling is how his powerful rant, “I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore,” is turned into the slogan for the new “Howard Beale Show”. The Network simply absorbs and parlays his rage into ratings and market share.
Additionally, as the programming department obtains control of the news and applies the all-encompassing measure of ratings to it, the program increasingly becomes a circus with Beale at the center. Not only does he continue to deliver prophetic rants right on cue each night, but he does so from the middle of a soundstage that is made up more to look like a church than a news room, complete with stained glass. The heavy spiritual dimensions of the news emphasize how much Americans are getting their “truth” from the TV medium; Network was released during the rise of the network news broadcasters-turned-celebrity, like Walter Cronkite (whose name is mentioned in the film as an old buddy of Beale). However, as quickly becomes apparent, the highest goal of this network is not truth, but profit. Ratings become the highest goal, to the point of creating a show employing communists and terrorists to “give voice to the rage” that Americans apparently silently feel. This in itself is the fulfillment of an ominous joke early in the film by Beale’s friend Max Schumacher about the “Death Hour” that, inaugurated by Beale’s own on air suicide, could “wipe out Disney” in terms of on air ratings.
The film is certainly comical at times, calling upon strong intertextual connections with the Bible, especially the story of Jeremiah the prophet. Diane Christiansen even suggests at one point (when Beale’s rants are not powerful enough early on) that they have the script department “write some Jeremiads for him.” Jeremiah’s calling is re-conceived and applied to Howard’s madness, both in his initial “dream” as well as his vision of Jensen as “god” in the later “second calling” to preach the “evangel” of capitalism. Jensen himself might be a kind of embodiment of Mammon – the god of money – and he demands atonement from Beale for the “sin” of interfering with a profitable business deal when Beale preaches against the coming deal with the Arabs to buy out the corporation that owns the network. Additionally, this demand for atonement and “second calling” occurs in Jensen’s inner sanctum, the boardroom, which in the movie’s world is the “holy of holies” of Mammon.
In the end, Beale is actually killed by his own listeners, much like the prophets on whom he is modeled. As his message becomes unpopular – while ironically becoming more and more truthful about how the world actually works, from Jensen’s “revelation” – his audience turns against him and his ratings drop, prompting the network to contract out his on-air killing. However, it should be noted that all the decisions being made by the network were for the sake of ratings. Beale’s value, just as at the beginning of the film, is unchanged – it hinges on his market share and profitability. This is the sad reality of the film; Beale’s second major rant about Americans being sold whatever they will buy over the TV is true. Products come packaged as truth, and Beale was just another one of them. It is a strong indictment of our world and the ubiquitous market mentality at work in it; even the communists are shown arguing over profit-sharing connected with their staged, show-business revolution series.
Lumet declares to us through Network the direct and unequivocal statement that everything is corrupted by TV because TV is engineered for the widest possible audience and the highest possible popularity. Diana Christiansen becomes network television in human form, the first “new man” created by this god. Max even literally trades in his established love with his wife for what TV offers by beginning an affair with Diane, only to discover that “war, murder, death are all the same to [her] as bottles of beer.” The editing at the end of the film even more strongly highlights this trivializing of life by TV as four screens are shown simultaneously, showing the alternating news of Beale’s assassination and commercials for beer and appliances. None of them get any more air time than the others, so for the viewer, none of them really have any more importance. It is a world reduced to what sells fastest and best.
The ending of the film is one that is ultimately ambiguous. The viewer is left with an indictment of the forces that drive our culture, but without the attendant call to action. In a sense, it is a revolutionary film without a call to revolution; perhaps suffering from its own sense of cynicism as to whether anything will truly change even if action is taken. Indeed, Howard Beale’s character, in seeking to fight this system, only ends up becoming absorbed by it, and the Network presses resolutely onward. In a similar way, even if everyone goes to see this film and demands change, not only will the popularity of the film itself fill the pockets of the hated system, but such action may only motivate the “gods” to change their programming to better suit the demands of the people. There is a darkly fatalistic edge to the film, one that likely resonated with a culture that had just come through the pain of Vietnam and was trapped in the atmosphere of impending doom created by the Cold War. The inevitability of collapse is an unpopular message, however, and even we feel the desire for Beale to preach his old message instead of the “truthful”, unpopular one. We in a sense are the final fulfillment of the film; we buy anything that makes us feel good for a while, never truly intending to change.
