Spotlight

Spotlight, 2015

Directed by Tom McCarthy, 128 minutes

Mark Ruffalo, Michael Keaton, Rachel McAdams, Liev Schreiber, John Slattery, Stanley Tucci

Review by Katherine Scheetz

In the slew of iconic Bostonian movies, Spotlight sits among those that embody the grey-cloud intensity that is more than a movie set in Boston but one that is, in essence, Boston. Think Good Will Hunting (1997) and The Departed (2006).

The narrative takes us in, immediately, to the freshly wounded: small children coloring in a police station room, guarded closely by their mother. Enter well-dressed, overpaid, Catholic lawyer, swinging around the familiar terrain as green police officers mutter about arraignments and trials. Fast forward 15 years and dart down the fluorescent hallways of the Boston Globe to the “Spotlight” special reporting team office, coffee brewing and desks peppered with papers to be piled and filed.

The catalyzing event is the entrance of Schreiber, quietly commanding as Marty Baron, the brand new, non-Catholic, Editor-in-Chief who assigns them the project of following up on a case of a child-molesting priest. One priest turns into three which turns into 14, which turns into, well you get the idea. It’s an investigative journalism avalanche.

Writers Josh Singer (The Fifth Estate) and Tom McCarthy (Up) have crafted a script with words chosen as meticulously as a newspaper article. Every character on the page matters. This intention is not lost on the glowing cast. Ruffalo is dynamite as Mike Rezendes, down to his parted hair, Neanderthal eating habits and slouch, determined under the weight of his shoulder bag. His interactions with Mitchell Garabedian played by the brilliant Stanley Tucci unfold with desperate grace. Tucci, as with all projects he touches, only enhances. Whether an enigmatic TV personality in a dystopian future, quirky husband to the colorful Julia Child or dry-humored liason to Anne Hathaway into the fashion world, Tucci lights up the characters around him. Spotlight is no exception. He nails Garabedian as the fed-up representation to the targeted victims with a nuanced and compassionate rage. McAdams slips out of her skin as Sasha Phieffer, particularly in her interviews with and connection to the survivors.

By way of costuming, the simplicity of the gender neutral, monochrome and functional early 2000s wardrobe is effective. It eliminates any distraction from the story the reporters are following. Except for the intentional smear of red adorning Cardinal Law’s garb. Nothing hints at villainy like costuming. McCarthy’s functional decisions are reflected throughout in minimal set design and glaring, artificial lighting. Every visual component has been considered carefully.

In a surprising score from Howard Shore we hear hints of the millennial music against a grey-rain piano canvas. Shore sprinkles the clacking of computer keystrokes in every once in a while to ground us again in the looming belly of the Boston Globe: the Spotlight team’s home base. The breath of a church pipe organ has a sobering effect in the score as well.

McCarthy has allowed the story to percolate through, playing the role of host to fast-paced, flawless writing and a strength that ripples through the cast in execution. It’s a film – and a story – that deserves the front page.

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