This series of articles takes a film based on real-life events and analyses the opening section, following the source material through to the script and on to the screen. We start with the classic multi-Oscar winning political thriller/journalistic procedural, All the President’s Men.
Director: Alan J. Pakula
Screenwriter: William Goldman
Screenplay: There are a few different drafts/versions available, but the one we’ll be referring to can be found here – https://www.raindance.org/scripts/old-library/All-the-Presidents-Men.pdf
Source material: The non-fiction book, All the President’s Men, by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward. The edition we’ll be referring to was published by Simon & Schuster UK in 2006.
Synopsis:
*Spoilers* June 1972. Washington Post reporter Bob Woodward covers a break-in and attempted bugging at the Democratic Party national headquarters at the Watergate complex in Washington DC. It’s the run-up to the Presidential election, in which Richard Nixon is bidding for a second term in the White House. As Woodward digs into the story, it becomes apparent that the break-in was just the tip of the iceberg. He and fellow Post reporter Carl Bernstein doggedly investigate, uncovering a programme of political espionage that leads all the way to the Oval Office (and the eventual resignation of Nixon).
Overview:
The first thing to highlight is that the events on which the film is based start in 1972, the book came out in 1974 (which was also the year Nixon resigned), and the film was released in 1976. This means the material was fresh in the minds of the audience, having been extensively covered in the press, as the story evolved to become one of the key political scandals of modern times.
The film offers a deep look into the process the reporters undertook to dig out the information needed to build the ongoing story, often reaching out to people reluctant (or scared) to talk.
The book on which the film is based runs to over 360 pages, with much of the content procedural in nature, detailing the reporters’ painstaking work in reaching out to contacts, piecing together the emerging puzzle, and confirming their information. It also highlights the decision-making process the Post’s editors undertook as they were faced with publishing increasingly incendiary material that implicated senior figures in the government.
To transform the material into an effective screen story therefore required:
a) The ability to take the complex web of events and investigative repetition and to pick out the key elements, in order to build a strong central narrative that conveyed the ‘guts’ of the story without being confusing or laborious for the audience to watch.
b) The ramping up of dramatic tension by emphasising the ‘peril’ aspects of the story, the conflicts between the protagonists and other characters, and the shady nature of what was going on (such as the underground meetings with Woodward’s anonymous source, known simply as Deep Throat, with whom the reporter meets late at night in underground parking garages).
The opening:
To take a closer look at the process of bringing the true-life story to the screen, we’ll look at the opening, which roughly equates to:
– the opening chapter of the book
– the first 20 pages of the screenplay
– the first 22 minutes of the film
The source material:
The book opens with Woodward being called at home by the Post’s city editor, who informs him of the break-in at Democratic headquarters. The first few pages describe the newsroom, offer background on the Watergate complex, and outline the basic facts of the burglary (pp 1-2, 4). It’s also at this point (p 3) that we first meet Bernstein, who is also working on the story, and learn that he and Woodward have conflicting personalities.
The action then moves to the courthouse, where Woodward covers a preliminary hearing involving the men arrested at the scene of the burglary. Woodward finds out some basic details, including that one of the suspects, James McCord, did work for the CIA (p 7).
The remainder of the first chapter of the book covers Woodward and Bernstein’s attempts to gather background on the suspects, especially McCord. Key names emerge that will feature in the investigation, including Howard Hunt (p 11), Charles Colson (p 13) and Ken Clawson (p 14).
The screenplay:
The draft script opens not with Woodward, but with the break-in itself (p 1). This drops us straight into the action (rather than the more passive act of Woodward getting a phone call that relays the facts of the break-in). It then moves on to Woodward’s involvement. The facts of the break-in are told to Woodward at the newsroom (p 2). He is initially dubious about the seriousness of the story, but metropolitan editor, Harry Rosenfeld, tells him (and us) details that suggest there is merit in pursuing the burglary.
The action then moves to the courthouse (p 3), where the screenplay largely traces the events as described in the book. It is interesting to note that the screenwriter takes an opportunity to insert a bit of levity (removed from the film) into an otherwise quite serious story. Woodward approaches Douglas Caddy, who he assumes is the suspects’ lawyer (p 4).
The sequence in the courthouse is important, as it moves the story forward (especially the revelation about McCord’s involvement with the CIA – underlined by Woodward’s “holy s**t” reaction (p 9)). It also illuminates the tenacious nature of Woodward (p 7) and the resistance he and Bernstein will later face when they try to piece together the larger puzzle.
The action then moves to the print-room of the Post’s newsroom, where the screenwriter uses a couple of ‘union’ employees to sum up the ‘every-man’ attitude to the story. They read the opening of the Post’s account of the break-in and then quickly shrug it off and turn to the sports section.
Another important development is the discovery of the notebooks belonging to two of the men arrested at the Watergate break-in. These link the suspects to the White House and Hunt. In the screenplay, these are uncovered by the night police reporter, Eugene Bachinski, and the contents are relayed to Woodward.
One interesting point to note is that in the draft screenplay, Bernstein does not make an appearance until much later (p 19) than is reflected by his real-life involvement in the news story. This is a complicated story with complex facts, and the opening pages set the scene for what is to come. Sticking to the facts and ramping up the gravity of the evolving news story therefore seem to take priority over the relationship between the reporters, in this draft, at least.
When Bernstein is finally introduced, the differences (and potential conflicts) between him and Woodward are immediately apparent, as the screenwriter weaves in some backstory (p 21).
In the source material, there is a couple of paragraphs (pp 10-11) detailing Bernstein’s rewriting of Woodward’s initial account of the break-in. In the draft screenplay, this is moved to later in the story (pp 19-23) to serve as a neat introduction to Bernstein and the dynamic between the reporters that becomes central to the remainder of the story as they team up to uncover the truth (p 21):
The film:
When it came to the process of transferring the story to the screen, the filmmakers made some choices that departed from the draft discussed in this article (which is described as a ‘pre-rehearsal version March, 1975’).
Scripts go through many drafts in their journey to the screen and once the creative team becomes involved, there is additional input into the process that can take a film in a different direction. A few of the ways in which the opening of the film differ from the draft are:
1. Instead of opening directly with the break-in, the film includes a short pre-credit sequence that starts with the date of the break-in dramatically hammered out like gunfire on a typewriter and real-life footage of a good-humoured Nixon arriving in Washington from a trip overseas and preparing to address the House of Representatives. The action then moves to the break-in and the police rounding up the suspects. This enhances the drama, piques our interest as viewers, and sets up the events to come. The incorporation of actual footage also enhances the ‘reportage’ style of the film and, of course, contributes to the authenticity.
2. Rather than being summoned to the newsroom as he is in the draft script, Woodward is simply told over the phone to go to the courthouse to cover the preliminary hearing. He is also told that it is national Democratic headquarters (rather than local), thus elevating the importance of the event (07:15). This short scene is efficient and moves the story forward.
3. The names of the Watergate lawyers are changed, including (the real-life lawyer who was briefly involved in the case) Caddy, who becomes Markham, and Starkey, who becomes Rafferty.
4. The scene with the union workers is cut.
5. As noted above, Bernstein enters the action (at 07:29) much earlier than in the script (p 19). As well as being more factually accurate (the real-life Bernstein was involved with the Watergate story from the beginning), it likely also has something to do with the fact that a big-name actor, Dustin Hoffman, was chosen for the part, to star alongside Robert Redford as Woodward.
6. The initial back-and-forth between Woodward and Bernstein is cut down (19:30). In fact, the film compresses this to a simple, humorous scene involving Bernstein underhandedly rewriting Woodward’s initial account of the break-in and the Hunt connection. “I don’t mind what you did, I mind how you did it,” says Woodward before giving Bernstein his notes and telling him that if he’s going to do it, “do it right”.
7. Ramping up the dramatic tension by putting Woodward and Bernstein’s continued work on the story in doubt (18:30). When it seems as if the story is going to be big, the editors want to turn it over to the national desk, with the additional revelation that Woodward recently came close to being fired.
The overall feeling from the film is how effective and efficient it is at:
a) introducing characters
b) conveying important information and eliminating/compressing less important information
c) ramping up conflict
d) weaving in exposition/backstory without it seeming crowbarred in or breaking the narrative flow
A good example of this last point is the sequence immediately following the break-in, during which Rosenfeld talks, both on the phone and to a colleague in his office, about what the burglars had in their possession (06:57). We learn about the important information, but without the narrative flow being disrupted.
A second example is Woodward finding out about the White House/Howard Hunt connection (12:50). Instead of a whole separate sequence involving Bachinski, we get the police reporter being dispatched to find out what he can, then, in the next scene, calling up Woodward to report what he found in the notebooks.
Details are also incorporated that add authenticity and help to illuminate the events, such as:
– The piece of tape placed on the door by the Watergate burglars to keep it from locking. The fact it is placed horizontally rather than vertically means it is noticed by the security guard, which prompts him to call in the suspicious activity to the police (03:45).
– The detail that the nearest police unit was unavailable, which was instrumental in the burglars getting caught (04:30).
Throughout, the events are well ordered and easy to understand. It is clearly laid out what is going on, the key players, the potential implications, and the relationship between the Post reporters and editors, especially the underlying differences between Woodward and Bernstein that would result in a fruitful journalistic partnership. Later in the film, we meet Ben Bradlee, the colourful managing editor, whose support of Woodward and Bernstein was crucial when it came to the hard publishing decisions, of which there were several as the puzzle was slowly pieced together.
(As a side note, Jason Robards won the film’s only acting Oscar for his role as Bradlee. Tom Hanks would later take the role in The Post (2017), which serves as a prequel to All the President’s Men, as it deals with the newspaper’s publication in 1971 of the leaked Pentagon Papers, which revealed damming evidence concerning the government’s attitude towards the Vietnam War.)
Take a look at the trailer for All the President’s Men here:
Conclusion:
The way in which the source material was transformed for the screen involved bringing the story ‘to life’. Taking a narrative non-fiction account of events and dramatizing key elements of the story. Ways in which this was accomplished included:
– Weaving in exposition and important factual information for the benefit of the audience. For example, look at the exchange between Woodward and Rosenfeld on page 15, in which the latter sets out the lay of the land for the reporter and for us. While you might expect a Washington DC reporter to know this (or at least be able to find it out), verbalising it like that clues us in on some of the key figures, whose names we’ll hear again.
– Adding movement and interaction. While the source material contains plenty of passages of dialogue and action, it is essentially a plain account of the events. So, the screenwriter and filmmakers used every opportunity to bring the material to life.
For example, in the source material, Woodward calls the White House press office to ask about Hunt and gets an unsolicited statement denying government involvement in the break-in, which the reporter seizes upon as important (p 14). In the draft script, this is transformed into a scene in the newsroom between Woodward and two of the editors, during which the reporter says he never asked a potential source about Watergate and that Hunt’s innocence was volunteered without prompting. (p 18):
This transformation allows for lively interaction between the characters and underlines the importance of the development – flagging it for the audience – as well as illuminating the editorial process. In the draft script, this also segues into introducing Bernstein, as Woodward grapples with writing up the development that a White House consultant has been linked to the break-in (deduced from the unsolicited press office comment).
– Humanising the story. There is no escaping the fact that this is quite a dry procedural, so it is important that we are still able to relate to this as a drama, rather than a documentary. A few ways in which this was achieved in the draft script are discussed above (the Caddy dialogue, the introduction of Bernstein, and the use of the ‘union’ guys (which is returned to throughout as public interest in the story grows)).
– The use of montage to show us the arduous and tireless aspects of the reporters’ work. In the source material, this process is, of course, spelt out in some detail. However, in the screenplay and film, this is condensed to save time and ensure we get the gist without losing the main thread of the story. For example, the screenwriter uses a passage of description on page 15 that opens with Woodward at his desk with the Colson file spread out. This is a classic example of a ‘doing the job’ scene in which the reader/audience is shown a truncated slice of the character’s work.
– General compression of events. Related to the above is the continual cutting down of processes (or removing them completely) to convey the thrust of the story without slowing down the action.
– Highlighting the key events. This was a long investigation that threw up lots of facts, conjecture, red herrings, names and rumour. The process of sifting through all of this is covered in detail in the book, but to keep our interest (and stop us getting lost/bogged down), the screenwriter isolated the main facts that drive the story forward and flag them clearly, so we know something important has been discovered that changes the direction of the investigation/story.
– Escalating the drama/stakes. Again, this was a lengthy investigation with pockets of activity and lulls in the action. The cardinal rule in screenwriting is to always be ramping up the action and increasing the stakes, so the task here was to do just that. For example:
— The initial break-in piques our interest in what’s to come.
— Woodward’s initial reluctance to cover the story is quickly dismissed as the gravity of the events become apparent.
— At the courthouse, the discovery of McCord’s ties to the CIA take things to another level by implicating the government in the break-in. This wasn’t just random burglars (or “crazy Cubans”, as Rosenfeld suggests).
–The discovery of the notebooks then connect the suspects to Hunt and the White House.
–Woodward and Bernstein risk being taken off the story when it increases in importance.
– Using real-life verbatim for authenticity and dramatic effect. While much of the adaptation process is really a transformation and reworking of the source material, there are scenes, sequences and dialogue lifted directly from the book. There is an example on page 16, with the conversation between Woodward and Hunt. Sometimes real life doesn’t need embellishment and the screenwriter in this case constantly mines the gold from the factual events on which the fictionalised screen story is based.
There is no doubt that the source material is compelling and remains as relevant today as it was back on the film’s release in 1976. However, as with all true-life adaptations, compelling source material is not enough! The key is seeing the screen story within the true story (recalling Michelangelo’s quote about carving away from the block of marble everything that isn’t the angel).
In this case, the screenwriter and filmmakers presented audiences with a film that both entertains and illuminates history, opening a window on Woodward and Bernstein’s efforts as they worked tirelessly to expose what became one of the most important events of the 20th century.