The film is a labour of love for Bryan Cranston, as Trumbo. As Hollywood’s greatest screenwriter, embattled but not beaten, he embodies the old Hemingway definition of courage: grace under pressure.
As the film opens in 1947, he has been a member of the Communist Party of the USA for four years. He is rich, living in a ranch outside Los Angeles with his adoring wife Cleo( Diane Lane) and three young children. He often writes in the bath to soothe his aching back, with scotch and cigarettes fuelling his flow. He talks like a character in a restoration play, which drives some people crazy.
When the House un-American Activities Committee subpoenas arrive, Arlen Hird( Louis C.K.), another of the Hollywood Ten, complains about his high-falutin’ language.
Students of history will note that Hird never existed: he’s a composite. I couldn’t work out why the story needed him. Admittedly, it’s hard to juggle 10 characters, even if they were all interesting men, but it would have been nice if screenwriter John McNamara had tried.
There are good small roles for Michael Stuhlbarg( as Edward G. Robinson), David James Elliott( as John Wayne), Dean O’Gorman( as Kirk Douglas) and Christian Berkel( as Otto Preminger), but we barely get a glimpse of Ring Lardner jnr, Alvah Bessie, Lester Cole, Samuel Ornitz, Adrian Scott, Herbert Biberman, Albert Maltz, Edward Dmytryk or John Howard Lawson – all of whom also went to jail too for defying HUAC’s famous question: Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?
Still, the film does capture the fear and paranoia of these events. Trumbo gives us an effective ringside seat at a brutal and traumatic game in which everyone had to choose where they stood.