This bombardment of big business, television, and the entire boob-tube generation, is not awfully unlike the "underground" comedy of Bob Downey, Mad Magazine, and the Saturday Night Live group. It begins with a far-fetched "what if..." premise (in this case, an on-the-air nervous breakdown of a network newscaster) and then proceeds to answer the question with the same collegiate impertinence and intemperance with which it was asked. Director Sidney Lumet's penchant for snappish, skittish histrionics is often at cross-purposes with author Paddy Chayefsky's eloquent, long-winded tirades. The former permits nary a casual action, a calm moment, a concealed emotion, and the latter permits nary a pause, a stumble, a drawn breath. They end up shedding more heat than light, to coin a phrase, on the high-altitude corporate milieu. The actors -- William Holden, Robert Duvall, and even Faye Dunaway -- prove to be a good, lively group of combatants, all except Peter Finch, who, as the unhinged newsman, is adrift in his own private realm. (He comes in from the rain, dressed in pajamas and trenchcoat, to do his show, and the doorman salutes him, "Howya doin', Mr. Beale?" "I must make my witness." "Sure thing, Mr. Beale.") With Ned Beatty, Wesley Addy, Beatrice Straight. (1976) — Duncan Shepherd
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