Review: "The Trial of the Chicago 7" is a Defiantly Urgent Drama

Scene from The Trial of the Chicago 7

It has been some time since writer and director Aaron Sorkin has taken his audience inside a courtroom. While most of his films have pivotal scenes taking place in these judicial buildings, they have rarely been used for than a few minutes, allowing actors to chew through some meaty dialogue, As the Oscar-winning writer quickly proves, he's rarely better than when giving actors a chance to espouse their deepest desires, yelling to the masses in a hope that they will listen. It's the belief in The American Dream, that everyone deserves freedoms. A courtroom is the perfect setting for these ideas to be lobbed at each other, forming a tennis match of intensity that turns dialogue into its own action sequence. At his best, Sorkin grabs you and hypnotizes you into believing that whoever's talking is the most important person in the room.

He does that a lot with his latest The Trial of the Chicago 7, which finds a riot surrounding the 1968 Democratic National Convention turned into a hub for something grander. As people outside chant "The whole world's watching," there is this urgency for the legal system to recognize the change, the belief that The Vietnam War is unjust, and that the police are not as innocent as they claim. Whether intentionally or not, Sorkin feels like he's struck lightning this time around, finding several exceptional performances lobbying riveting language, mixing in small sways of humor, and action sequences that pull at the emotions. This is a story that feels urgent, reflecting the divide between the people and the government, and in 2020 it's rarely felt truer. It's another home run that never lets up, making the most complicated of legal jargon into something accessible. He hasn't been this much of a livewire since The Social Network, and he's finally come into his own as a director. Welcome back, Sorkin. We've missed you.

It appears that Netflix has some infatuation with recontextualizing The Vietnam War in 2020. Following Spike Lee's Da 5 Bloods, The Trial of the Chicago 7 decides to explore a different side to the war at home. Showing archival footage of protests as President Lyndon Johnson speaks to the camera, there is this swirl of ideas being thrust at double-speed. The editing feels like it's about to explode as the seven narratives overlap, finding them leaving for the Chicago protest. Some know each other while others will not until they're seated opposite each other in court. Still, there's something manic, suggesting that something revolutionary is about to happen. As everything swells, it becomes clear that while this is an intense exposition dump, it's really the calm before the storm, where Sorkin's dialogue performs its attractive dance for two hours and prepares to grab us by our hearts and believe in the common man.

Don't get it twisted. Sorkin clearly wants the audience to side with a group dubbed The Chicago 7. Surrounded by flashing cameras and protestors, there's allusions that may or may not be references to current events (one sign says "Lock them up!"). There's the presence of a trial within a trial as Black Panther's Bobby Seale faces his own hurdles to being heard. The judge is unsympathetic, constantly throwing out contempt of court orders as the defendants grow weary, preparing for several months of an exhaustive smear job. Every time there is a chance to break even and find one ounce of sympathy, the judge holds them back, creating an injustice within the courtroom.

This is where Sorkin pops into gear. The narrative begins to divide, finding accounts of that day slowly seeping into the frame. In one particular moment, yippie Abbie Hoffman is speaking before an audience about everything, serving as an interior monologue for the riot sequences, themselves distressing as Daniel Pemberton's searing score thrusts the viewer into sensory overload. It's treated like a war zone, finding small ways for these seven men to be found innocent amid a shuffling crowd. As a director, Sorkin has come a long way since his debut Molly's Game, managing to find purpose with the effectively manic editing that mixes in courtroom interrogation with some of the most brutal parts of the film. It all builds an emotion, creating this tapestry of perspective that elevates the impact of his words. 

Even then, don't think that Sorkin has gone total Michael Bay on this one. It's a feature that comes in handy, but he's still obsessed with the minutiae of the process. The courtroom scenes by themselves are loaded with some of his wildest moments, finding Abbie (Sacha Baron Cohen) and Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong) constantly protesting with humorous protest of judge robes and police uniforms. There's lawyer William Kunstler (Mark Rylance) who has an overbearing love for the legal system that he's worn down by every beatdown. He believes in justice and is the middle man between their freedom and time in jail. Even protestor Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) feels morally complex, never quite gelling with the yippies or the lawyer, believing that he is simply misunderstood.

Which is the thing. Sorkin poses the question as to what the common man can do when the world feels like they're against them. Everything feels like it's slowly whittling down to reason, with every new development providing slightly more sunshine. While the subplot with Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) presents a racial division, it's mostly used as an awkward distraction, finding Seale's own unfortunate fate revealing difficulties with the judge (Frank Langella) and the jury. It's a chaotic journey that only ever finds peace behind private rooms, finding the seven voices arguing for their own focused plan. Rylance delivers a phenomenal performance that mixes passion with exhaustion so well that he makes everyone else better. Even Cohen, who at times may appear to be just riffing on his own comedy career, has moments where he delivers something more empowering, launching at the right time into something serious.

Which is what makes The Trial of the Chicago 7 into a powerful experience. This is the closest that Sorkin has come in a long time to making a grander commentary about the America he believes in. While he's been known to explore egotism in recent years, this is the one time where he's found every idea playing out in a way that speaks perfectly to his bigger point. Can we trust a legal system that won't allow the people to be heard? Whether or not it's manipulative, Sorkin has control over his audience that is effective, making you see the collision of ideas that seem designed as much to unite as it is to divide. In a nutshell, this is Sorkin at his most direct, allowing his actors to constantly shine in these abrupt but important ways. It may be one of his showiest movies since A Few Good Men, but it's all for some greater purpose.

It may just be that 2020 has been a stagnant year for cinema as an art form, but this is one of the best of the year. It's one of the few that feels urgent, constantly interacting with its audience, asking to believe in what America can be while looking at current events. In a year full of protests and cries for justice, the commentary on a time when the country turned from blue to red control is perfect for an election year. It's forcing us to ask why we hold these ideals, and if our leaders truly have our best interest. It's an encouraging tale full of these distressing blips along the way, proving how much still needs to be worked on. Still, the idea of compromise isn't such a bad thing so long as all sides are willing to sacrifice. What are you going to do when the whole world is watching? Sorkin suggests that you make the most of it.