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<text id=94TT1274>
<title>
Sep. 19, 1994: Cinema:Barbarians at the Gate
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
Sep. 19, 1994 So Young to Kill, So Young to Die
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
ARTS & MEDIA/CINEMA, Page 77
Barbarians at the Gate
</hdr>
<body>
<p> Robert Redford's Quiz Show is a smart, hugely entertaining depiction
of a turning point in American cultural history
</p>
<p>By Richard Schickel
</p>
<p> It was one of those moments the moralists live for: nice young
man--good family, college teacher, an earnest intellectual
yet rather cuddlesome--is caught cheating not only in public
but also on television. Fame and fortune were the prizes he
very nearly got away with, but infamy was his final reward.
</p>
<p> What instructive lessons could be derived from this outrage,
this tragedy, this affront to the button-down proprieties of
the 1950s? Surely something was revealed here about American
materialism. Or the cynicism of its media masters. Or perhaps
the gullible neediness of the public, yearning to identify with
a guy who somehow managed to be smart, cute and lucky at once,
just the way we all want to be.
</p>
<p> In our tawdry age, one can almost wax nostalgic about a time
when Charles Van Doren could cause nationwide outrage. For a
few months in 1956 and 1957 he became a celebrity by remaining
champion for weeks on a television quiz program called Twenty-One.
In the process he won $129,000 and 500 marriage proposals. But
two years later he admitted to a congressional committee that
he had been fed the answers by the show's producers. Compared
with the participants in today's scandals, Van Doren seems more
pathetic than notorious; compared with contemporary affronts
to our sensibilities, his misdeeds seem infinitely forgivable.
</p>
<p> Indeed, watching the film Quiz Show, a compressed and therefore
somewhat distorted version of his story, you can't help but
think that these days Van Doren would have entered a 12-step
program for liars, negotiated a million-dollar deal for a confessional
book and eventually gone into politics. It is one of the several
virtues of this thoughtful and hugely entertaining movie that
it encourages such reflections. Written with clean-cut force
by Paul Attanasio and directed with panache by Robert Redford--they know how to efficiently shape a character and point
a scene--Quiz Show neither nostalgizes about nor inflates
its drama. Rather it contextualizes it, makes us see it not
merely as an antique controversy but as a symbolic turning point
in recent cultural and social history.
</p>
<p> This story actually begins with an edgy, brainy nerd named Herbert
Stempel (wonderfully played by John Turturro), who was a steady
winner on Twenty-One. The trouble was that white-bread America
couldn't identify with him. Enter Van Doren (played a little
too stiffly by Ralph Fiennes), trying to pick up a few dollars
to supplement his instructor's pay at Columbia University. He
was a godsend. Not just any old WASP, but the scion of arguably
the nation's most distinguished literary family. His father
was Mark Van Doren, Pulitzer-prizewinning poet and scholar;
his mother was a novelist; his uncle, a famous historian; his
aunt, editor of a respected book-review journal.
</p>
<p> What capital could be made of Van Doren on lowbrow TV. And what
capital he could make of it. For Charlie Van Doren was overwhelmed
by his bloodlines, needed to succeed somewhere on his own. And
this new medium, despised by his family and their friends, seemed
perfect. He could become a hero by co-opting it for truth and
light. The producers persuaded him to accept answers in advance
by telling him how much good he was doing the cause of education
with his presence. And the schmuck (to borrow a word from Herbie
Stempel's lexicon) believed them.
</p>
<p> Between the WASP damaged by privilege and the Jew damaged by
under-privilege, the movie places a third figure, Richard Goodwin,
a smart, completely unneurotic young man (played by Rob Morrow)
working as a congressional-committee investigator. Historically,
he does not deserve the central role the film gives him (Goodwin
is the author of the book the script is based on and is one
of the film's co-producers), but structurally this figure is
a masterstroke. He's Jewish, but he's been to the right schools
(as he never fails to mention, he graduated first in his class
from Harvard Law School). He understands where everybody's coming
from. More important, he knows where TV is going--not just
toward media dominance but toward cultural, social and political
dominance as well. He wants to use the quiz-show scandal as
a way--exactly how he doesn't really explain--to bring the
entire medium to heel.
</p>
<p> Was he really that prescient? Or as noble as he's portrayed
here? Doubtful. But he was as ambitious. In a few years Goodwin
would begin his long career as a Kennedy factotum-apologist.
And seeing through his eyes, the movie gets one very big thing
right. The genteel and patrician WASPs who still ruled the nation's
cultural life lost their remaining power by their smug, simpering
dismissal of TV and all the vulgar stirrings in postwar popular
entertainment. Paul Scofield's great performance as Mark Van
Doren perfectly personifies their cluelessness. And impotence.
This smart, sad movie is the epitaph of the tweedy elite. They
should have taken more care to defend the values they appointed
themselves to uphold, instead of twittering among their teacups.
The film is set in a time when even game-show executives would
recognize the name of a Pulitzer-prizewinning poet, but there's
not much call these days for the collected works of Mark Van
Doren.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>