When Satire Becomes Prophecy

My Netflix queue is dotted with various "classics" that, for whatever reason, I've never seen. Moves that I feel, as a film buff, I should see. Sometimes, I get one that really makes me think, "damn, no wonder that's a classic." Other times, I fail to see the charm, perhaps because whatever made it a classic in the first place has leeched into popular cultures so much (that's what happened with The Godfather, for example). But it's really rare that I rack one up that I not only think is excellent but is eerily prescient.

Last night I watched Network. Even if you've never seen Network, you know its iconic moment: a frazzled looking older man, soaking wet, raging to the world (or whoever is listening), "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!" That man, not quite 'round the bend but definitely in sight of it, is Howard Beale. Beale was once one of America's most trusted national news anchors. But time has not been kind, and Beale has been fired, due to low ratings, effective in a couple of weeks.

After receiving the news, he tells his viewers that, in a week's time, he will kill himself on the air. But that's not when the fun really begins. It starts rolling the next night. What was supposed to be an on-air apology turns into an obscenity-laced tirade. Beale, he says, has simply, "run out of bullshit." Beale's rant, far from being a death-knell, turns out to be a godsend for the last-placed UBS network.

With a young, driven programming director and a shark-like corporate raider calling the shots, Beale becomes a prophet of the angry everyman, taking the airwaves every night (along with a psychic, muckraker, and public opinion feedback) to deliver a fresh rant. Filmed in front of a live studio audience (that chants Beale's trademark saying back at him), Beale rails and wails until he collapses from exhaustion. If he had a roadie with a cape, he'd be James Brown.

Eventually, as these things tend to do, Beale, though incredibly popular, turns out his masters, sabotaging a corporate takeover deal backed by investors from Saudi Arabia. After a come-to-Jesus moment with the corporate overlord, Beale turns from anti-establishment rants to essentially nihilist philosophizing. Ratings plummet, but Beale is preaching what the boss wants. The solution? Homicide. On the air, of course.

In the age of Jerry Springer, reality TV, and the 24-hours news cycle, Beale and his show sounds like something that could come about today. Which makes is all the more amazing that Network came out in 1976. At that time, it's vicious satire captured public sentiment (the film won 4 Oscars) and was surely seen as one of those "it will never get this bad, but don't let it even it close" kind of warnings. 32 years later, it seems like a painfully accurate prophecy.