The Trial of the Chicago 7
“With two Hoffmans, a Schultz, and a Rubin, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that many of the characters in this story are Jewish.”
Title: The Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020)
Director: Aaron Sorkin 👨🏼🇺🇸
Writer: Aaron Sorkin 👨🏼🇺🇸
Reviewed by Alicja Johnson 👩🏼🇺🇸
Technical: 4/5
Writer-director Aaron Sorkin may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but the man sure knows how to entertain. If he wrote all of our real-life court proceedings, maybe jury duty could finally shed its onerous reputation. Alas, that’s not how the world works, but at the very least we can dream with his latest film, The Trial of the Chicago 7. The Netflix legal drama positions us viewers as the jury for its re-creation of the eponymous 1969 trial and the anti-Vietnam War protests at the 1968 Democratic National Convention (DNC) that started it all.
We meet the defendants in a montage replete with Ocean’s Eleven-style swagger—just to make sure we know whose side the movie is on—as each prepares for his fateful Chicago trip to peacefully demonstrate. Cut to five months later, assistant federal prosecutor Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) learns that he will take the lead on indicting the men for crossing state lines to incite violence, an infraction of the Anti-Riot Act. From there the trial begins, with Schultz and defense attorney William Kunstler (Mark Rylance) drawing out what took place at the DNC. Sorkin skillfully intersperses the legal proceedings with re-enactments of the events, along with stand-up sets in which defendant Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen) shares his own memories.
The way Sorkin paces the film and jumps around the chronology makes the 130-minute runtime fly by. Sure, some of his dialogue is too on-the-nose and unrealistic, but that’s par for the course with the writer. His style suits this particular story well, as the actual trial was so sensational that even the screenplay’s most didactic lines seem less out of place than they might in another setting.
For the most part, Chicago 7’s talented actors add to our entertainment with outstanding performances. Cohen especially stands out, demonstrating his reverence for Abbie in the way he gracefully balances the activist’s earnest moments with his role as the comedic relief. Also stealing the show is Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as the National Chair of the Black Panther Party, Bobby Seale.
On the other hand, Eddie Redmayne as defendant and anti-war activist Tom Hayden, as well as Gordon-Levitt, both take away more than they add to the movie. Redmayne forces his voice into a coarse, monotonous drone that resembles nothing close to real-life Tom Hayden. In Gordon-Levitt’s case (and though it pains me to say, as someone who had a poster of him on their college dorm room wall), his bland facade of “just a guy doing his job” makes one wonder why the movie spends any more screentime on him than absolutely necessary. He gets way too much attention in this story.
This isn’t just the result of bad casting, but rather an odd writing choice on Sorkin’s part to completely alter the prosecutor’s role. Chicago 7 seems determined to characterize Schultz as one of the “good guys,” like when he tells his kid to give a dollar to some street performers. This effort also includes muddling Schultz’s relationship with the trial. For example, the man never protested going after the defendants, which Gordon-Levitt’s character does by pointing out the racism of the Anti-Riot Act. It’s unclear why Sorkin glosses over this historical antagonist, but whatever the reasoning, it does nothing for the movie.
Gender: 1/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? NOPE
Heavy sigh. That’s the summation of gender representation in Chicago 7. A few women may be seen, one of whom gets narrowly saved from rape, of course. But they’re barely heard.
Fictional FBI agent Daphne O’Connor (Caitlin FitGerald) appears as the most significant female character in the ensemble, but take this “significant” with a grain of salt. One of several undercover agents assigned to infiltrate the protests, her method of infiltration—seducing defendant Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong)—starkly sets her apart from her male colleagues, none of whom break any hearts on this mission. Some speculate that Sorkin fabricated O’Connor to add women to the story, but it doesn’t do much good that he depicts her as a “femme fatale,” emphasizing Rubin’s feeling of romantic betrayal. Despite its complex legacy, the archetype itself is not inherently bad, but being the only dimension we see of O’Connor it doesn’t make for stellar representation.
Balancing the diversity of a film based on true events can be tricky, as it doesn’t always serve the story to invent a new character for that purpose. But at the very least, such movies can even the representation score with behind-the-scenes hires. Unfortunately, men held nearly every key position in the crew of Chicago 7, including production manager, director of photography, sound designer, production designer, and film editor. Even the whopping 43 credited producers lack gender diversity, with only 16 women in the bunch.
Race: 2.5/5
Sorkin doesn’t shy away from highlighting the intense racism happening within and outside of this courtroom, frequently perpetrated by the cartoonishly unfair Judge Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella). Hoffman forces Seale to face the jury without his lawyer, but also won’t let the man speak without his attorney present, violating his constitutional rights ad nauseam. When two jury members appear to sympathize with the defendants, the citizens mysteriously receive death threats from the Black Panther party (implicitly sent by the FBI) and are removed from the case. At the end of each day in court, Seale goes back to a holding cell while the remaining defendants walk freely. In short, Sorkin makes it impossible to watch Chicago 7 without your blood boiling over the flagrant racism.
But what we really need to discuss is the way Sorkin plays with historical accuracy when Judge Hoffman has Seale beaten, gagged, and chained to his chair before the courtroom. Thankfully, Sorkin doesn’t erase this true event from the story, but rather forces us to face how the federal government abused a Black man in a place of so-called “justice.” Unfortunately, Chicago 7’s account would have you believe that this mistreatment lasted all of five minutes when in fact Seale was left in his bonds over the course of three days. Perhaps Sorkin didn’t want to seem as though he was exploiting Black suffering by showing this image longer than necessary, but the repressed timeline feels like minimizing what Seale endured. Given that the film jumps from day to day throughout the trial, Sorkin could have easily communicated the actual length of time through editing magic.
Another point at which history and Chicago 7 diverge lies in the resolution of Seale’s predicament. The movie chooses to fictionalize Schultz into a white savior, a white character who rescues a person of color under the implication that the “victim” cannot save themself. In the film, Schultz intervenes on Seale’s behalf and gets the Judge to declare a mistrial, which both frees him from his bonds and suggests that Seale will have a more impartial trial with his lawyer present at a later date. But that’s not what really happened. When real-life Judge Hoffman finally freed Seale, warning against further disruptions, Seale continued fighting against the court’s prejudice—and that’s what led to the mistrial. The film’s pretense that Seale became freed and simultaneously received a mistrial thanks to the “heroic” white prosecutor means that we never get to see Seale’s perseverance and unwavering dignity. Instead, the last moment we see of him shows him still bound in court.
Aside from Seale, Kelvin Harrison Jr. appears briefly as Fred Hampton, accompanied by a small handful of Chicago Panthers. They, along with any other characters of color in the film, have such minor roles that there’s not much to talk about.
When all is said and done, Sorkin did make an effort to show reverence to the Black people of this story, but we’re seeing them through a white lens. Seale and Hampton only appear in the context of their suffering, employed as devices to brew anti-racist anger in his audience. Admittedly, the screenplay doesn’t stray far from the trial, but Seale and Hampton don’t even get to partake in the ideological disputes the rest of the defendants enjoy at length over how to impact change. Given that there wouldn’t have been anti-war demonstrations at the DNC at all without Black activism in the lead-up, excluding the Panthers from these discussions omits the Black leadership that was (and still is) critical to the fight for social justice.
Bonus for Age: +0.75
In a rare occurrence for Hollywood, the ensemble for Chicago 7 features a range of talented actors covering nearly every living generation. In addition to Rylance, 61, and Langella, 83, Michael Keaton (who is somehow 69 now?!) appears as former Attorney General Ramsey Clark. Clark’s successor, AG John Mitchell shows up briefly too, played by John Doman, 76. Of these revered actors, Rylance and Langella take center stage, with the former depicted as quite the noble hero. As the hostile Judge Hoffman, Langella isn’t quite so lucky, and the portrayal would seem offensive to those of his age—if not for the fact that the real Hoffman’s behavior reportedly mirrored what we see in the movie.
Bonus for Religion: +0.25
With two Hoffmans, a Schultz, and a Rubin, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that many of the characters in this story are Jewish—seven, to be exact. Though gentile actors play three of these men, it seems like Sorkin made more of an effort to cast Jewish actors than Hollywood typically does (cough cough Mank). As a Jew myself, it always excites me to see my favorite Jewish actors like Cohen and Gordon-Levitt playing characters of our religion.
Conversely, some viewers argue that Sorkin (who is also Jewish) “obscures” the prominence of Jews in this narrative, shirking an opportunity to show us fighting for social justice. He certainly does leave out some key details: The real life trial saw Abbie and Rubin comparing the courtroom to Nazi Germany through their antics, from throwing a “Heil Hitler” salute to calling the marshals “Gestapo.” In a comedic beat of Chicago 7, we see the rabble rousers arrive at court wearing robes to mock the Judge. However, the film curiously omits the yellow stars of David that had been affixed to their costumes during the actual affair. These badges, which Jews were forced to don as identification in Nazi-occupied Europe, symbolize oppression and would have made the scene a stronger statement from the two defendants. But perhaps Sorkin didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood with such a stark reminder of the Holocaust. Given the director’s Jewish heritage, the choice seems forgivable.
Mediaversity Grade: C- 2.83/5
As enthralling as The Trial of the Chicago 7 is, Sorkin holds too much interest in telling a good story to give any thought about how his toying with history impacts underrepresented characters. Yes, “story is king,” as the saying goes. But it’s always possible to include diversity without taking away the crown.
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