Note: The popularity of this story prompted us to treat it as a dynamic document, adding more reviews as appropriate movies are released or discovered. As such, “110 Journalism Movies, Ranked” has morphed into “110-plus Journalism Movies Ranked.” Enjoy.
Hollywood helps define just about everything in America. And journalism is no exception.
From “Citizen Kane” to “The Post” and from “Libeled Lady” to “All the President’s Men,” reporters have clashed with editors, danced on both sides of the ethical line, and otherwise populated hits and duds on the silver screen. They’ve been heroic, dangerous, and sometimes very funny.
In celebration of the 110th anniversary of SPJ, Quill Editor Lou Harry teamed up with the critics from MidwestFilmJournal.com to watch, review and rank 110 journalism-related films.
Caveat: To make this ambitious project (relatively) manageable, the list was limited to English-language films. Trimmed out were flicks where the journalism milieu was minimal (i.e. “The Last Time I Saw Paris,” “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” and a load of romantic comedies). Even then, we had to cut some from the pack, so out went “Snowden,” “Scream,” and “Confessions of a Shopaholic.”
What’s left, we hope, is a list that will spark discussion, encourage debate, and provide you with some ideas for the next time you can’t find anything interesting in your Netflix queue.
Chime in down in the comments section with your thoughts on any of them.
Reviewers: AC = Aly Caviness, ED = Evan Dossey, LH = Lou Harry, MR = Mitch Ringenberg, NR = Nick Rogers SW = Sam Watermeier
Let’s start at the bottom:
134. Brenda Starr (1989). The comic strip about the gutsy reporter lasted from 1940 to 2011. But after sitting on the shelf for years because of rights issues, the film, starring Brooke Shields, disappeared quickly – with good reason. Bob Mackie costumes provide the only interest. (LH)
133. 10 Days in a Madhouse (2015). It opens with a bloody scene out of a grade Z horror film and ends with one of the worst original 
songs ever heard in a movie. In between is an earnest but painfully amateur you-go-girl flick that looks like it was shot by people who couldn’t get work making those bio-docs for the History Channel. Nelly Bly’s pioneering undercover investigation of asylum conditions deserves better than this flop, which barely cracked five figures at the box office. Christopher Lambert and Kelly Le Brock appear, for no clear purpose besides their names, in supporting roles. (LH)
132. Scoop (2006). Upon its 2006 release, “Scoop” was reviewed as one of writer-director Woody Allen’s lesser efforts and time has not been kind. After receiving a tip from a ghost (Ian McShane, a standout), intrepid journalism student Sondra Pransky (Scarlett Johansson) attempts to seduce billionaire socialite Peter Lyman (Hugh Jackman), who may be a murderer. The ethos “anything for the story” rules, but Allen’s script mostly defines it as Johansson using her looks to get ahead — or not. A nice smattering of screwball comedy presages other, better roles in the actress’s future while the lackadaisical pace and one-note characters also, unfortunately, preview Allen’s later work. (ED)
131. I Love Trouble (1994). Screenwriter Nancy Meyers hit sweet spots before and after with “Baby Boom,” “Father of the Bride” and “The Parent Trap” (which she also directed). But here she can’t create sparks between Nick Nolte and Julia Roberts, nor can she and director Charles Shyer navigate the delicate balance of romance and thrills. Nolte and Roberts play rival reporters at Chicago dailies who collide when covering a train wreck. Their investigations — separately and together — unearth a plot involving, no kidding, bovine hormones. But the test of these sorts of films is whether you want the bickering pair to eventually get together, not whether or not the mystery plot works. In this case, though, both chemical efforts fizzle. (LH)
130. Run This Town (2019). “Run This Town” chronicles the final year of former Toronto Mayor Rob Ford’s time in office, back when a video of a politician smoking crack cocaine could still derail their career. Robyn Doolittle, the recent university grad who broke the story in real life, is replaced here by a fictional male reporter aimlessly floating about early adulthood — a questionable choice. Without knowing that background, though, “Run This Town” simply comes across like a minor-level attempt at the rhythms of Aaron Sorkin, filled with colorful conversations and walk-and-talk sequences that never feel like more than the sum of their parts. Worth it, though, for character actor Damian Lewis’s fat-suited performance as Ford, almost entirely unrecognizable under the sweat and latex. (ED)
129. Bonfire of the Vanities (1990). Director Brian De Palma’s colossal botching of Tom Wolfe’s decade-defining novel is clear from the opening, a five-minute tracking shot following narrator/tabloid reporter Peter Fallow (Bruce Willis) to an awards ceremony. You may wonder how they did it. By the end, you’re more likely to wonder why. DePalma’s bloated take on Wolfe’s swirling novel — about the downfall of a Wall Streeter (Tom Hanks, miscast) who incites a racial incident — is more cartoonish than crystallized. Upside: It gave us Julia Salamon’s “The Devil’s Candy: The Bonfire of the Vanities Goes to Hollywood,” one of the best books about making movies. (LH)
128. The Naked Truth (aka Your Past is Showing) (1957). With a concept that sounds more promising on paper than it plays out on film, this British offering concerns a sleazy tabloid publisher (Dennis Price) with a blackmail scheme. His rag, The Naked Truth, will run a friendly profile of a famous person next to a scandalous story about that same — this time, unnamed — person, leaving it up to the reader to make the connection and absolving him of libel. A politician (Terry Thomas) and media personality (Peter Sellers) join forces with others to fight back but their antics generate few laughs before an absurd — and very welcome – conclusion. For Sellers completists only. (LH)
127. The Paperboy (2012). Matthew McConaughey stars in this vile piece of southern exploitation as Ward, a big-city journalist brought home to help exonerate a convicted felon, Van Wetter (John Cusack), at the behest of the murderer’s smitten girlfriend-via-correspondence, Charlotte (Nicole Kidman). There is a lot going on in “The Paperboy,” and although McConaughey plays a good investigative reporter, the rest of the film is buried under grim excess to a comical degree. Zac Efron co-stars as Jack, Ward’s brother, who is smitten with Charlotte — a problematic position to be in given her predicament. At one point, Charlotte has to drop trou to save Jack after a jellyfish attack and, well, that’s about the high point of the story. (ED)
126. Still Here (2020). Even if you only interned in a newsroom, you’ll see how this well-meaning but woefully inept film gets the details so heinously wrong. Swaggering and smoldering Christian Baker (Johnny Whitworth) writes for the fictitious New York Chronicle and becomes personally invested in a story about a young Black girl’s disappearance. “I wanna know what’s really going on out there,” Baker gnashes before dropping cash to a source for intel. “Something I can sink my teeth into.” After a quick glance at Christian’s incendiary copy that calls out the cops, his editor yells: “F*ck it! Let’s run it!” Perhaps it’s fitting that Whitworth resembles a suaver cousin of “Parks & Recreation’s” Jean-Ralphio Saperstein. As journalism films go, this one’s definitely among the worrrrrrrst. (NR)
125.News of the World (2020). In this dry, dust-choked, Oscar-nominated bit of boredom for all involved,
Tom Hanks is Jefferson Kyle Kidd, a Confederate veteran roaming America in the thick of Reconstruction. Kidd’s post-war occupation is gathering newspapers from large cities and international editions, then reading them aloud for paying audiences. Most of 2020’s “World” is a lazily conceived save-the-girl action-Western, an anodyne anomaly for Hanks and director Paul Greengrass that plays like “Plains, Reins and Wagon Wheels.” It’s an oater offering little journalistic fat on which to chew outside of loud-shouting analogs to a divisive present day and eternally irreconcilable racial animosity. (NR)
124. The Pirates of Somalia (2017). Writer-director Bryan Buckley’s adaptation of Canadian journalist Jay Bahadur’s 2011 book opens on audio of Mario Savio’s “bodies on the gears” speech. It’s ostensibly a mantra for a fictionalized Bahadur, given increasingly loud life by Evan Peters. But “Pirates” regards it like a dorm-room poster, a decoration to moon over for what you think it says about you and look straight past until it’s time to pack up for the summer. The many plights of Somalia — the “somewhere crazy” to which a desperate Bahadur flees after chucking the Canuck life — is similarly filtered through western-world whininess. Bahadur’s endless first-person monologues blame the fourth estate for burying his earliest stories. Those stories are all he has, but are they any good? Throw in romantic grace notes a la “(500) Days of Somalia,” Bahadur’s hypnotized animated visions of piracy set to the Notorious B.I.G.’s “Hypnotize” and spiral-cut ham interludes from Al Pacino as Bahadur’s mentor, and you’ve got just another flip, touristy and disengaged geopolitical drama — something like “Captain Phillips” made by Todd Phillips. (NR)
123. Richard Jewell (2019) The tragedy of the real-life Richard Jewell is that of an innocent man brought low by a combination of journalistic and governmental malpractice. Jewell was a security guard at the scene of the Centennial Park Bombing during the 1996 Atlanta Olympic games and became the prime suspect in an FBI investigation. It almost ruined his life. “Richard Jewell,” Clint Eastwood’s dramatization of the story can’t help but amp up his journalist “villain,” the late Kathy Scruggs, into a slanderous caricature of a real woman. It commits the same affront to truth it tries to unpack. Sometimes reporters make mistakes, but there’s no reason to return an affront in-kind. It’s too bad: this is otherwise Eastwood’s best film in his later-period of “unsung hero” stories, filled with great performances and funny writing. (ED)
122. -30- (aka Deadline Midnight) (1959). Fans of old school TV may get a kick out of seeing William Conrad, Joe Flynn, Richard 
Deacon and David Nelson fill out the cast. Plus there’s Miss Arkansas of 1959, Donna Sue Needham (yes, she’s billed in the opening credits that way). But there’s not much to recommend in this look at the overnight activity at a big city daily. Few films on this list spend this much time in the newsroom — or this much time focused on coffeemaking — but the tone is all over the place. Director/producer Jack Webb saddles himself with playing an editor adjusting to the idea of adopting a child. Conrad (better known as TV’s “Cannon”) comes across as an unfunny Jackie Gleason (“You had better rustle your bustle, Nelly Bly,” he says when giving a young female reporter an assignment”). An overwrought score punctuates matters throughout, particularly when the drama turns to a kid missing in a storm drain. (LH)
121. Up Close and Personal (1996). It’s hard to imagine credited screenwriter and literary journalist Joan Didion approved much of 1996’s “Up Close & Personal,” a movie that plays like “Broadcast News” by way of Nicholas Sparks, and lacks any of the intimate despair of her best work. What began as a biopic of the late NBC News reporter Jessica Savitch was eventually altered beyond recognition by Touchstone Pictures and released as a saccharine romance vehicle for Robert Redford and Michelle Pfeiffer. Admittedly, it’s impossible for these actors not to be endearing, but they’re trapped in a forgettable studio vehicle from director Jon Avnet that has as much to say about journalism as “She’s All That.” In fact, Pfeiffer even gets the same makeover treatment here. (MR)
120. Bright Lights Big City (1988). Casting Michael J. Fox as the coke-snorting lead in an adaptation of Jay McInerney’s seminal ’80s novel seemed a bad idea at the time. Viewing it 30 years later, it’s an even worse idea. That being said, it’s one of the only cinematic treatments of the challenges facing fact checkers — in this case a hard-partying staffer for a New Yorker-ish magazine. The scenes at the magazine office (where Swoosie Kurtz, Frances Sternhagen and John Houseman lend support) are at least less cringy than the nightlife and domestic drama scenes. (LH)
119. The Mean Season (1985). Strung-out Miami reporter Malcolm Anderson (Kurt Russell) becomes a serial killer’s public mouthpiece in this nicely shot, thematically daft schlock about the line past which storytellers become the story. Adapted from former Miami Herald reporter John Katzenbach’s novel (and filmed in the Herald’s offices), Phillip Borsos’ 1985 film parks a truck of red herrings to rot in the sweltering Florida heat. Malcolm’s girlfriend, Christine (Mariel Hemingway), exists only for the killer to endanger, after which Malcolm improbably jumps a bridge to save her. Imagine if Jake Gyllenhaal free-soloed Coit Tower to stop the Zodiac Killer. Plus, Malcolm’s paper uses a passive-voice headline when Christine is taken. Poor form, especially on A1. (NR)
118. Teacher’s Pet(1958). Clark Gable is a hardnosed (read: obnoxious) city editor who laments “dames” teaching journalism classes. (“Amateurs teaching amateurs how to be amateurs,” he gripes). Doris Day is a teacher who believes – and demonstrates – the value of education. He signs on to her class under an assumed name to show her up but is soon smitten. There’s plenty of noble speeches and journalistic debate on the way to the revelation of his real identity. Day is charming, particularly when she’s got the upper hand, but Gable’s sexist creepiness hasn’t aged well. (LH)
117. Lions for Lambs (2007). In one of the worst-reviewed films for each of its three major stars, Tom Cruise plays a senator who offers a scoop to skeptical reporter Meryl Streep about military operations in Afghanistan. And Robert Redford, who also directed, plays a professor pushing students away from apathy. It’s generally talky, and often to its own detriment. But an early scene perfectly encapsulates the largely rocky relationship between politicians and the press. When liberal TV journalist Janine Roth (Meryl Streep) grills Republican senator Jasper Irving (Tom Cruise) about the reasoning behind the Iraq War, he fires back, “How many times are you people going to ask the same question?” With utter righteousness, she replies, “’Til we get the answer.” Messy as it might be, “Lions for Lambs” reminds us that journalists’ dogged pursuit of the truth is often the only hope we have of cleaning up our government’s messes. (SW)
116. Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice: The Ultimate Edition (2016). We’re not arguing that the 183-minute version of Zack Snyder’s infamous title bout between DC Comics’ biggest characters will change the hearts of viewers who found the 151-minute theatrical cut tedious. That would be impossible. However, the half-hour of restored content features one of the best on-screen depictions of Superman’s alter ego, Clark Kent, performing his duties as an investigative reporter for The Daily Planet. His topic? Batman’s violent war on crime. His real foe? A newspaper industry that doesn’t care about consequence, only “content.” Although this additional subplot still ends up lost in the bombastic third act, it reminds viewers why journalism is a profession worthy of Superman. (ED)
115. Truth (2015). Short of George Clooney, no heartthrob turned Hollywood royalty has stepped to bat for journalism as readily as Robert Redford. As this list will show, Redford’s average took a ding in recent years. But the star doesn’t even bother to take Wonderboy off his shoulder here, playing Dan Rather in James Vanderbilt’s dim 2015 dramatization of his last days at CBS after an inaccurately reported story regarding George W. Bush’s military service. Even if “Truth” hadn’t opened in the same year as “Spotlight,” its superficial grandstanding about rigged systems and agendas would feel like a production staffed by understudies. (NR)
114. Tomorrow Never Dies (1997). James Bond faces off against megalomaniacal journalist Elliot Carver (Jonathan Pryce) in the 18th 007 film. Pierce Brosnan’s Bond outings trended from outlandish to absurd. This is no different, infused with John Woo-inspired gunplay and Wai Lin (Michelle Yeoh), a Chinese agent every bit Bond’s equal. Together, they thwart Carver’s plans to monopolize the 24-hour news market by starting World War III. Not one of Bond’s best, but Pryce is memorable as the last traditionally wacky/topical Bond villain. “I have my divisions: TV, news, magazines,” Carver rants. Little does he know Facebook will supplant him in a half-decade. Just don’t pivot to video, Elliot. (ED)
113. Greed (2019). “Greed” starts off as a juicy eat-the-rich satire but ultimately dries up into unearned dramatic territory. Steve Coogan stars as retail tycoon Sir Richard “Greedy” McCreadie, a thinly veiled stand-in for British fashion mogul Philip Green, and David Mitchell is Nick Morris, the nebbish journalist/biographer following McCreadie around to ghost-write a flattering memoir. Set during an extravagant party much like Green’s real-life jamborees, the film flashes back to McCreadie’s past as a boarding school brat and traces his rise and fall in the fashion industry. Not until the third act does co-writer / director Michael Winterbottom really focus on the fact that McCreadie’s empire was built on the backs of Sri Lankan women working in sweatshops. The ending title cards aim to shock us with disturbing facts about the fashion industry and the socioeconomic disparity involved, but after 90-plus minutes of Coogan hamming it up for humor’s sake, this information feels like it belongs in a better film. Like Nick, “Greed” commits the journalistic sin of glossing over the victims of a charming devil. (SW)
112.The Fifth Estate (2013). Despite being penned by Josh Singer, the screenwriter behind two of this list’s best journalism films (“The Post” and “Spotlight”), “The Fifth Estate” is a scattershot slog. A biographical thriller about the daring feats of the controversial news site WikiLeaks, it ironically grows less interesting as its subject, WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange (Benedict Cumberbatch), takes more risks. That’s because the bulk of the film boils down to him butting heads with co-founder Daniel Berg (Daniel Brühl), who’s far more cautious. We get it, Julian, you live on the edge, and that’s why your hair’s lightning-white. Director Bill Condon brings some visual flair to the otherwise tiresome hyped-up letdown. (SW)
111. Bruce Almighty (2003). In Tom Shadyac’s comedy, Jim Carrey plays a TV newsman tired of puff pieces who, when passed over for 
an anchorman promotion, wigs out, gets fired and admonishes God. Before you can say “high concept,” he’s given the big guy’s powers. Spiritual enlightenment is served as a side dish to the main course of orgasm and orifice jokes. Steve Carell gets the film’s only good scene, easily You-Tubed, with an on-air gibberish seizure Bruce brings on; Carell would reprise his role in an even more dismal sequel, “Evan Almighty”. Mainly, this violates the 11th Commandment: Thou shalt not try to make people forget “Groundhog Day.” (NR)
110. Continental Divide (1981). Screenwriter Lawrence Kasden conceived it as Mike Royko meets Jane Goodall. But with “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” “Grand Canyon,” “The Big Chill,” and a couple of “Star Wars” films on his resume, it’s no surprise that many have forgotten this weak attempt to turn screen bad boy John Belushi into a romantic comedy hero. Blair Brown fares better. (LH)
109. True Story (2015). Although better known for comedic endeavors, James Franco and Jonah Hill are no dramatic slouches. But these two Oscar-nominated actors bomb fast and hard in Rupert Goold’s overwrought 2015 tale of overreach and deceit that’s hilarious for all the wrong reasons. Fired by the New York Times after a breach of ethics, Michael Finkel (Hill) learns a murder suspect (Franco) has been using his identity and investigates the matter further. Is this film based on Finkel’s book of the same name a meditation on the mindset of fabulists like James Frey or Stephen Glass? A gripping psychological thriller? A takedown of every writer’s dream about a memorable memoir? A good movie? On all counts, “True Story” rings false. (NR)
108. The Photograph (2020). Michael (LaKeith Stanfield) is a yuppie New York reporter sent to New Orleans to interview residents about life after Hurricane Katrina. While there, he learns about a subject’s long-lost love and sets out to find her. Coincidentally, the lost love’s daughter, Mae (Issa Rae), is determined to learn about her late mother’s past, thanks to photographs left to her in a safety deposit box. Fate brings Michael and Mae together, beautiful people destined for a beautiful union. “The Photograph” is tasteful, sultry Valentine’s Day programming, set in a world where Michael’s work writing about random folks lands him the love of his life and a sweet new job in London. Saxophones and tinkling xylophones play when Michael and Mae make love for the first time; they reprise as Michael sits at his computer looking at a blank page, wondering how to describe it all for an audience of, surely, dozens. (ED)
107. Mad City (1997). Equal-opportunity opportunism abounds in a 1997 drama from Oscar-winner Costa-Gavras (“Z,” “Missing”) too timid to tackle its media machinations or manipulations with thoughtful talk. In a twitchy, unintentionally amusing turn and resembling an “SNL”-skit Wolverine, John Travolta is a laid-off museum security guard who instigates a hostage situation. Dustin Hoffman is the disgraced TV newsman stuck inside who tries manipulating the situation to his advantage. Hoffman is pro-forma fine and Alan Alda’s egotistical-weasel shtick (as a rival news anchor) is always a delight. But this is a 2-7 offsuit hand futilely bluffing its way to an “Ace in the Hole.” (NR)
106. Bombshell (2019) “Bombshell” tries to be many things at once: a history lesson, a three-lead exploration of cutthroat corporate politics and an expose on the ever-present unbalance of power between men and women in the workplace. It doesn’t do any of these particularly well, having bitten off more than it can chew. One scene captures the story’s lack of focused intent: Kayla (Margot Robbie), is asked to do something for Ailes. Through camera placement it also becomes a show for the audience, without the film ever contemplating its own gaze. Are we all complicit in the culture of abuse? Hardly questioned. It’s a #MeToo movie for those who don’t really believe in #MeToo. (ED)
105. Livin’ Large (1991). A harmless bit of nonsense concerning Dexter (Terence “T.C.” Carter), a young man who yearns to be a TV reporter. When a journalist is shot on camera during a hostage crisis, Dexter seizes the moment and wins a spot on the news team. Of course, there can’t be a happy ending after 15 minutes. Problems arise as Dexter’s news director transforms his style into something she sees as more palatable to mainstream audiences. Nothing terribly original here, but the sprightly cast, Herbie Hancock’s score and Dexter’s visions of an increasingly white version of himself (shades of “Get Out”) add some interest. (LH)
104. Godzilla: King of the Monsters (1954). Journalism became the in-story perspective on Godzilla, Japan’s monstrous cultural icon,only when American studios imported Ishirō Honda’s original film, cut it to ribbons, and added a white reporter (Raymond Burr) as 
a Western vantage point on the story. This version had a definitive impact on the character’s further adventures, which frequently returned to reporters and newscasters as its primary human characters. Why not? If you need eyes on the wake of a giant, irradiated lizard stomping through Tokyo, who better to follow than those bravely chasing him for the story? (ED)
103. The Hunting Party (2007). Another journalist melts down. This time it’s Simon (Richard Gere) who, years later, teams up with two colleagues (Terrence Howard and Jesse Eisenberg) to track down a war criminal. The opening disclaimer, “Only the most ridiculous parts of this story are true,” gives a clear idea of the tone. (LH)
102. The Soloist (2009). The most surprising thing in Joe Wright’s 2009 drama about the relationship between a Los Angeles Times columnist and a homeless classical musician? Robert Downey Jr. is twice doused in urine. Otherwise, “The Soloist” can’t decide whether it wants to be a musical biopic, sappy drama or social commentary. Disjointed as it might be, Susannah Grant’s screenplay at least captures the peril of a newsroom dwindling in bodies with poignancy and truth — a concern only exacerbated in the ensuing decade. (NR)
101. Veronica Guerin (2003). Meant less as entertainment than a message about the importance of a free press … but at what cost? Cate Blanchett plays the title character, a journalist whose investigations into Ireland’s underground drug trade got her killed in June 1996. Quiet but rarely ruminative, Joel Schumacher’s 2003 film vacillates between ego and altruism as her motivation. The result: An uneasy blend of insanity and martyrdom. At least Blanchett is great. Perhaps the biopic blessing propped up the filmmakers on this one; this same story was done, with names changed and starring Joan Allen, three years earlier as “When the Sky Falls.” (NR)
100. Hero (1992). In this wannabe Frank Capra-esque misfire, a pickpocket (Dustin Hoffman) looking for loot at a plane crash site rescues a TV reporter (Geena Davis). Her boss (Chevy Chase) offers a reward, a homeless veteran (Andy Garcia) takes credit and, well, you are better off watching “Meet John Doe.” (LH)
99. Street Smart (1987). Christopher Reeve’s 1987 pet project — financed by Cannon Films in exchange for his return to “Superman IV: The Quest for Peace — is best remembered as the film for which Morgan Freeman earned his first Oscar nomination. Jonathan Fisher (Reeve) is a New York freelancer who fabricates a profile of a pimp to save his job. Fast Black (Freeman) is the actual pimp who exploits coincidental similarities in Fisher’s piece to beat a murder rap. Fact checkers will justifiably peace out early on Jerry Schatzberg’s improbable and boring drama that deigns to make Fisher the hero even after he dangles his girlfriend as pimp bait. So should you, as Freeman’s performance doesn’t justify the casual racism that colors the story. (NR)
98. Quarantine (2008). Every found-footage horror flick needs a reason why its characters would continue filming even as bloody chaos erupts around them. In the case of 2008’s “Quarantine” (a remake of the Spanish-language “REC”), Jennifer Carpenter’s local TV anchor is following firemen on a night shift when an apartment-complex call finds them trapped in a zombie-infested quarantine zone. The news crew’s camera equipment puts this a notch above the grainy handheld footage of that year’s better-received ”Cloverfield.” Most importantly, these journalists show a true knowledge of their craft when one of them uses the station’s camera to bash in a zombie’s brain. (MR)
97. The Interview (2014). Desperate for a story of substance, a vapid TV personality (James Franco) and his producer (Seth Rogen) land an exclusive interview in North Korea with Kim Jong-Un. It would surprise no one that the more serious journalism surrounded the film itself. After release date delays, terrorist threats and hacks that jeopardized the Sony studio, this 2014 comedy (directed by Rogen and Evan Goldberg) was largely scuttled to online rental services. Headlines strained to politicize the film. But it’s merely a crass, caustic comedy whose point of view is to not let cultural coverage brainwash the best out of us — whether it involves human rights or celebrity hairpieces. (NR)
96. The Shipping News (2001). The Newfoundland locations are more interesting than the quirky characters in an overstuffed literary adaptation about a newspaperman (Kevin Spacey) and his daughter moving back to his ancestral home. The staff at his new paper include Pete Postlethwaite and Scott Glenn. (LH)
95. Eyewitness (1981). A janitor named Daryll (William Hurt, hot off “Altered States”) who’s infatuated with TV newswoman Tony Sokolow (Sigourney Weaver, hot off “Alien”) misrepresents his view of a murder to get close to her, endangering them both. Peter Yates’ initially promising 1981 thriller becomes a turgid trifle that wastes its ’40s-noir-in-’80s-fashion premise and a who’s-who of supporting players (Christopher Plummer, Morgan Freeman, James Woods, Steven Hill). Tony sleeps with Daryll in pursuit of the story, a decision “Eyewitness” contextualizes only through her wealth and his comparative poverty. The only thing more anemic than this blue-blood commentary? Hurt and Weaver’s sexual chemistry. Film at 11, asleep by 11:30. (NR)
94. Black Like Me (1964). The premise seems hokey — white journalist undergoes skin pigmentation to experience life in the south as a black man. And the makeup job on James Whitmore is distractingly unconvincing. But the treatment — based on the experience of journalist John Howard Griffin — is sincere, the low-budget location shooting gives it a suitable harshness, and strong support from such never-got-their-due actors as Roscoe Lee Brown and Will Geer add gravitas. An oddity, for sure, but an interesting one. (LH)
93. Morning Glory (2011). Roger Michell’s 2010 “working girl” comedy follows Becky (Rachel McAdams), an ambitious television producer who believes in the power of morning-show programming but can’t quite get her personal life in check. She deals with romantic drama while trying to balance silly segments and actual news. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. What sets “Morning Glory” apart is the presence of Harrison Ford as the curmudgeonly traditional journalist whom Becky forces into the role of a puff-piece presenter on a show he finds beneath him. Nobody plays grumpy like Ford, even when he’s cooking a frittata. (ED)
92. The Pelican Brief (1997). Director Alan J. Pakula’s first appearance on the list is this 1993 adaptation of John Grisham’s bestseller about a beltway reporter (Denzel Washington) and law student (Julia Roberts) investigating the assassinations of two Supreme Court justices. More long than limber, “Pelican” isn’t on par with Pakula’s preeminent paranoid cinema. But depicting a POTUS at odds with his FBI director and creating obstruction of justice concerns aligns it with Pakula’s preternaturally predictive potboilers. Plus, Gray Grantham is a GOAT name for a reporter, and Washington finds sensitivity and humility beneath his bespoke pizzazz. A few reportorial conveniences, but hey: If you’re on the run with a friend, find one with whom to share trauma and a byline. (NR)
91. Gaily Gaily(1969). Theoretically based on the autobiography of Ben Hecht (the reporter who co-wrote The Front Page), the Norman Jewison film features newcomer Beau Bridges as a breast-centric rube who moves to Chicago, lands a job at a newspaper and, thanks to a prostitute (Margot Kidder), acquires a notebook with evidence of political bribes and kickbacks. (LH)
90. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004). Nobody went to writer-director Kerry Conran’s visually groundbreaking homage to action serials (shot almost entirely in front of a greenscreen) to gauge Gwyneth Paltrow’s embodiment of reportage principles as Polly Perkins, a New York reporter circa 1939. Next to nobody went anyway, consigning this uniquely beautiful curio to cult status as “300” broke the bank with a similar scheme three years later. The only thing more supernatural than “Sky Captain’s” sinister plot hatched at the edge of Shangri-La is how miscast Paltrow is in the film. Angelina Jolie displays more pep, vim and verve in five minutes than Paltrow does in 105, and the extent of Polly’s professional vigor extends to her scolding of a source that she has a deadline to meet. Polly is, um, really good at discovering small, narratively convenient scraps of paper to propel “Sky Captain” to its next plot point. Otherwise, she’s constantly losing her camera, her film and our sympathies throughout. (NR)
89. Welcome to Sarajevo(1997). Early on, there are promising scenes exploring the challenges of reporting on a war that few back home — let alone those directly impacted — remotely understand. And the rivalry between British reporter (Stephen Dillane) and hotshot American (Woody Harrison) rings true. But the mix of documentary footage and fictional scenes don’t gel as the plot rambles into a journalistic-distance-be-damned attempt to rescue a busload of orphans. (LH)
88. Cry Freedom (1987). In this rare Hollywood film looking at apartheid, the first half – focused on the friendship between South African leader Steven Biko (Denzel Washington) and editor (Kevin Kline) – is significantly more relevant and interesting than the second half. That’s when the editor takes center stage in his attempt to cross the border after Biko’s death and the movie becomes another case of forcing a black story through a white lens. (LH)
87. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (2016). Unlike cinematic military comedies from Abbott and Costello movies to “Stripes,” this one is based on the memoir of an actual journalist, The Chicago Tribune’s Kim Barker. That lends a bit of authenticity — even though her job is changed from print to broadcast. It’s hard to make a comedy about wartime journalism, particularly one so fraught with political landmines as the war in Afghanistan. Baker represents one of Tina Fey’s more serious turns during her brief moment as a lead actress in this surprisingly funny, never-dismissive look at life inside America’s controversial conflict. Baker brings the audience along on her tour of firefights, conflicting sources and crotchety, unfriendly army commanders. This 2016 film takes an empathetic view of the soldiers and those covering them, if not the war itself. It’s a novel approach for a genre that usually relies on grit and grime to characterize front-line reporting. (ED)
86. The Electric Horseman (1979). Robert Redford is a retired rodeo rider who has resorted to hawking breakfast cereal. Jane Fonda is a TV reporter — on a softer beat than the character she plays in “The China Syndrome” — who tries to track him down after he goes AWOL from a corporate gig. (LH)
85. Most Wanted (2020). Writer-director Daniel Roby’s Canadian film occasionally resembles a scrappier, grimier, one-nation-north version of “The Insider.” Conveyed in a crosshatched, non-linear style, this true-life tale dramatizes the late-1980s Thailand arrest of Canadian citizen Alain Olivier (fictionalized as Daniel Léger and impressively played by Antoine Olivier Pilon as a troubled kid out of options and in too deep.) Josh Hartnett portrays Victor Malarek, the Globe and Mail reporter who untangled a plot involving overzealous and underhanded cops, as well as a small-time drug dealer (Jim Gaffigan, who brings palpable menace to cognitive-whiplash stunt casting). Roby tries to cram far too much into two hours, but Hartnett propels his portions with a puckish personality, and there are frank, funny and sometimes fraught exchanges with his editor (J.C. MacKenzie). Although it would benefit from a bigger canvas, “Most Wanted” remains a keen, timely treatise on systemic law-enforcement strongarming tactics and the urgent need to expose them. (NR)
84. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998). 
Terry Gilliam’s 1998 film has achieved cult status with frat-boy stoners nationwide, primarily for Johnny Depp’s unrestrained performance as journalist Hunter S. Thompson (portrayed earlier by Bill Murray in 1980’s “Where the Buffalo Roam” and by Depp again, in fictitious proxy, for 2011’s “The Rum Diary”). Less discussed, though, is its depiction of anarchic journalism, which is all but dead today. Thompson was an insufferable oaf, but pale imitations of his “gonzo” prose still prevail; check out that Vice article where a young reporter goes to a political convention on mushrooms … or something. Thompson’s madness was the real deal, and Gilliam’s garish lighting and surreal sound design immerse us in his drug-fueled psychosis. The hellish visuals represent the worldview that informed Thompson’s writing: “Look around you. How can you pretend any of this is normal?” (MR)
83. Top Five (2014). Chris Rock’s 2014 comedy (which he also wrote and directed) boasts some big laughs and believable vulnerability. But it also has aged faster than Indiana Jones Nazis unable to spot the cup of a carpenter and relies on truly retrograde eye-rolling plot turns about reporters’ motives. Chelsea Brown (Rosario Dawson) is a New York Times writer profiling actor-comedian Andre Allen (Rock), who has racked up movie millions as a wisecracking bear cop but is now creatively bankrupt. Moments after making out with Andre, Chelsea reveals she’s behind the film-critic alias assailing him and manipulates her profile’s direction by shoving him onstage for a standup set at the Comedy Cellar. Is Rock lamenting devalued standards of civility or ethics in arts commentary and coverage … or just suggesting his critics actually want to sleep with him? (NR)
82. Newsies (1992). As history, it’s largely nonsense. And it tanked at the box office. But “Newsies” has grown in the popular consciousness since its 1992 release. You can credit that to the rising star power of Christian Bale or the unexpected success of the Broadway musical it inspired, but its earnestness coupled with above-average tunes (by Alan Menken, between penning the scores for “Beauty and the Beast” and “Aladdin”) is what makes it likeable. The plot — very loosely based on a real-life incident — involves a strike by New York newsboys with the primary villain being Joseph Pulitzer. Yes, that Pulitzer. (LH)
81. Never Been Kissed (1999). When a Chicago newspaper decides to do a piece on the reality of high school life, its editor turns to copy editor Drew Barrymore to go undercover. The actress’ charisma, far more than the hackneyed plot, makes this one watchable. (LH)
80. Gentleman’s Agreement (1947). Although investigative reporter Gregory Peck’s bright idea of posing as a Jewish man at a new job to suffer bigotry for the first time in his life feels intensely naive and unethical today, Eliza Kazan’s film does get at the heart of one America’s ugliest truths: It’s the quiet racism, often from self-described liberals, that can burn the most. The kind of systemic racism that Peck encounters among his fiancée’s upper-crust social circle enrages him past the limits of his story, a new experience for a veteran reporter. Kazan’s clunkiest social justice picture might also be his most relevant, as he shows definitively that the most privileged and ostensibly progressive people have a willful blind spot when it comes to the plights of others. (AC)
79. Woman of the Year(1942). In the first pairing of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy (a personal and cinematic relationship that would eventually cover nine films), she’s a serious international journalist, he’s a sports writer. Opposites attract, but when she wins the title award, he gets jealous. Apart from the chemistry of the leads and some fun bits, it’s dated stuff. It was shortly followed by the lesser-known (for good reason) “Keeper of the Flame,” in which Tracy again played a reporter. (LH)
78. Velvet Goldmine (1998). Although it’s mostly remembered now as a faux-biopic loosely based on the life of David Bowie, Todd Haynes’ 1998 film is anchored by British journalist Arthur Stuart (Christian Bale) as he tries to figure out why glam-rock icon Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys-Davies) disappeared from public life following a particularly ill-received stunt. Haynes’ non-linear storytelling and spectacular production belies the reporter’s true motivation behind his investigation: In searching for Slade, Arthur is really trying to find himself — or, at least, the person he used to be, which is a story that’s much harder to break. (AC)
77. The Front Page (1931). The original silver-screen adaptation of the iconic and arguably quintessential play about journalism, this pre-code screwball comedy features constant innuendo, a smidge of violence and constant energy from start to finish. It’s a stagey (again, 1931) telling of the story, which features ace reporter Hildy Johnson (Pat O’Brien) tempted away from retirement by the machinations of his editor, Walter Burns (Adolphe Menjou), and one last juicy story — an escaped convict whom they hide from authorities in their office. In this version, the allure of the journalistic ideal (anything to get a story) doubles as a vehicle to show how men find meaning through their work, often at the expense of everyone else — in this case, Hildy’s sweet fiancée, Peggy (Mary Brian). “The Front Page” feels like an artifact in light of its superior remakes, 1940’s “His Girl Friday” and 1974’s “The Front Page” (which you’ll find at #3 and #67, respectively, on this list). Still, it’s not without its charms. (ED)
76. Down With Love (2003). Peyton Reed’s skillful ’60s-set battle-of-the-sexes comedy is the sort Rock and Doris would’ve made were 
they given more latitude for naughty banter. Renee Zellweger hawks her book about women’s liberation. Ewan McGregor’s magazine-writer lothario tries to take her down by posing as a wholesome astronaut named Zip. Yes, more fake identities and ethical violations that resolve in ways sure to roll HR executives’ eyes out of their sockets. But this 2003 film more than lives up to its lofty memory-lane goals as an alluringly goofy tizzy from start to finish — keying into the idea of an eventual, and welcome, obsolescence for once-popular, now retrospectively regressive, sexual politics. (NR)
75. True Crime (1999). The concept of a reporter possibly saving a death row convict on the day of his execution is a bit farfetched. But, if you suspend your disbelief, Clint Eastwood’s 1999 film is an exciting beat-the-clock thriller. Eastwood stars as Steve Everett, a seasoned journalist infamous for turning every story into a wild goose chase. When he’s assigned a human-interest, sidebar piece on convicted murderer Frank Beachum (Isaiah Washington), he ends up racing against time to prove Beachum’s innocence before the deadly stroke of midnight. “True Crime” emerges as an enjoyably idealistic vision of journalism’s life-changing potential. (SW)
74. The Public Eye (1992). Joe Pesci is no pugnacious, profane pipsqueak in writer-director Howard Franklin’s drama about Leon “Bernzy” Bernstein, a freelance tabloid shutterbug in 1940s New York whose pictorial prowess on the mean streets sweeps him up in scandal. (Bernzy is based on Arthur “Weegee” Fellig, so nicknamed for seeming powers of premonition to get the best pictures.) Besides Bernzy impersonating a priest to sneak inside a meat wagon, there are no comic moments; even in Pesci’s infrequent bluster, there’s a sense that Bernzy more deeply communes with the dead than the living. Unsurprisingly, this was the lowest-grossing film of the era’s Pescimania, even if the actor was never better until 2019’s “The Irishman.” Instead of a cautionary abyss-staring precursor to “Nightcrawler” (which you can find at #15) “The Public Eye” blends evocative noir with melancholy character study; even the mobsters are sad. Ethics? Bernzy would wave off that notion while dropping the “H” for good measure. “You can’t turn it off,” he says later — specifically about the police-band radio in his car but existentially about the constantly revolving rot at the center of it all. (NR)
73. Foreign Correspondent (1940). Alfred Hitchcock’s thriller occupies a prescient time in history. Filmed six months after the Invasion of Poland and released three days after Germany began bombing Britain, it addresses American media’s uncertainty in reporting 
the “European crisis.” Sent to Europe by an editor frustrated by vague information emerging from the conflict, Joel McCrea’s crime reporter seeks answers regarding the inevitable war. He finds them at roughly the same time Hitchcock’s audience did, as the film ends with a bombing it predicted only by a few short months. One of Hitchcock’s weaker thrillers, but a unique historical artifact, timely piece of Allied propaganda, and crucial depiction of dogged wartime journalism. (It lost the Oscar for Best Picture to another Hitchcock film, “Rebecca.”) Bonus: The line “The one thing everybody forgets is that I’m a reporter!” (AC)
72. Runaway Bride (1999). In this spry version of the familiar “journalist falls for his subject” trope, the reporter is Richard Gere, who writes sarcastically — and with factual errors — about the “runaway bride” (Julia Roberts) who has ditched three would-be grooms at the altar. After taking heat for his column, he decides to get the real story by visiting her hometown on the brink of her fourth marriage effort. (LH)
71. The Front Page (1974). Both this version and the 1931 one have been eclipsed by the gender-bent redo, “His Girl Friday.” Yet this stagy adaptation of the most iconic, cynical play about journalism is, if anything, even more cynical than its predecessors. Headliners Jack Lemmon — as the fed-up reporter — and Walter Matthau — as his anything-for-a-story editor are joined by a rich supporting cast including Austin Pendleton, Susan Sarandon, David Wayne and Carol Burnett. (LH)
70. Long Shot (2019). When Seth Rogen ping-pongs off a parked sedan to survive a several-story fall, it’s OK to fear that “Long Shot” is just Rogen’s asinine “Neighbors” with an I Voted sticker. But even with an abundance of bodily fluid gags, “Long Shot” matures into a meaningful political romance that’s worthy of mention beside “The American President.” (The script is from Dan Sterling and Liz Hannah, respective co-writers of listmates “The Interview” and “The Post.”) Rogen is a liberal-minded reporter who resigns on principle after a conservative-media monolith buys his independent newspaper and then begins writing speeches for Charlotte Field (Charlize Theron), a POTUS-hopeful Secretary of State on whom Fred harbored a teenage crush. “Long Shot” is foremost an inversion of “Pretty Woman” (soundtrack and all), but Sterling and Hannah infuse journalistic notions of personal integrity and, yes, ideological struggle into Fred and Charlotte’s romance. Fred helps Charlotte understand even the ugliest truths are worth telling. Charlotte helps Fred express himself more meaningfully by shedding his perpetual sarcasm. And the film’s astuteness about Charlotte’s uphill battle for hearts and minds as a woman in politics is less a woke-fiction badge of honor than a believable barometer of real-world pressure. Most of all, “Long Shot” is often laugh-aloud funny, from quick-punch jabs at misogynist morning-show banter to a sublime showcase for Theron during which Charlotte negotiates an international incident while tweaking out of her gourd. (NR)
69. The Big Clock (1948). Stylish film noir with Ray Milland as a harried crime magazine editor trying to track down a killer — only to discover that he’s being framed for the crime. Charles Laughton is terrific as his obsessive, demanding publisher (can this be where Austin Powers got his finger-to-the-face tick?) and Elsa Lanchester provides comic relief as an artist integral to the case. If some plot details seem familiar, it could be because the Kevin Costner thriller “No Way Out” is based on the same source. (LH)
68. Call Northside 777 (1948). The title refers to a classified ad placed by the mother of an incarcerated man who had been found guilty of murder. A reporter (James Stewart) reluctantly checks out the story, leading him to reinvestigate the years-old case. His methods don’t always line up with the SPJ Code of Ethics, but his doggedness is rewarded in this beautifully shot procedural, based on a true story. (LH)
67. Philomena (2013). Part odd-couple comedy, part mystery, “Philomena” shows how investigative journalism can forge unlikely bonds and bring justice to decades-old sins. Based on a true story, the film follows former BBC journalist Martin Sixsmith (co-writer/producer Steve Coogan) and an elderly Irish woman named Philomena Lee (Judi Dench) as they search for the son who was taken from her when she was living at a convent 50 years prior. While its humor doesn’t always land smoothly, “Philomena” steadily stirs up suspense. Of course, the resolution of the real-life story is just a Google search away. But like an effective piece of journalism, the film still holds you in its grip. Director Stephen Frears draws great performances out of the two leads. Dench makes Philomena’s desperation our own while Coogan sheds light on how human-interest stories can linger in journalists’ hearts and minds long after they write them. (SW)
66. State of Play (2009). Sometimes, paradoxically, the more weight given to the plot of a movie, the less consequential it seems. Such is the case with this political/journalism thriller in which a determined old school reporter (Russell Crowe) teams with a new school blogger (Rachel McAdams) to sort out the reasons behind the death of a woman who had been having an affair with a congressman (Ben Affleck). Condensed from a six-hour BBC miniseries, it’s fine when it comes to the details — even though it’s a leap of faith that nobody would have a conflict of interest problem with a reporter’s investigation involving his former college pal. The print/blog battle is little more than a plot device and McAdams largely takes a back seat to Crowe. In addition, the climax feels machine-tooled rather than organic. But “State of Play” benefits from some insight into the confidence and confusion that can come when additional information makes writers second guess their own conclusions. Underneath the plot is a worthwhile message about the need for journalists in a world where big money can easily influence important political decisions. (LH)
65. A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood (2019) For editors, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” is the stuff of nightmares. Assigned to write a 400-word puff piece on Fred Rogers (Tom Hanks) for Esquire, investigative journalist Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys, as a fictionalized Tom Junod) instead turns in a 10,000-word profile. In the end, though, no one can blame him. Although the profile is superficially about Mr. Rogers as a modern-day hero, for Lloyd the act of writing it is the therapy he’s been denying himself since he was a child. That’s a kind of nightmare in and of itself, but under Marielle Heller’s direction, it never feels anything less than compassionate. Sometimes journalism becomes deeply personal by necessity, and no film illustrates this better than “A Beautiful Day.” (AC)
64. A Thousand Times Good Night (2013). Juliette Binoche anchors this harrowing, heartfelt film with her poignant performance as Rebecca, a photojournalist dedicated to documenting dangerous war zones. After a near-death experience in Afghanistan, she returns to Ireland, where she’s forced to choose between her family and the journalistic missions from which she may not come home alive again. Fortunately, the film neither condemns Rebecca’s perilous profession nor goes out of its way to glorify the risks she takes. It ultimately shows how, like the best photojournalists, she wields her camera as a weapon for justice, capturing conflicts in the hopes of creating a safer world. The film is a bit clichéd in its depiction of Rebecca’s struggle with adjusting to “normal life,” but that’s a minor nit to pick in an otherwise powerful portrait of a journalist. (SW)
63. Platinum Blonde (1931). Although the title has everything to do with Jean Harlow’s hair and nothing to do with the plot, “Platinum Blonde” is a journalist’s nightmare disguised as a comedy of the sexes. This pre-Code gem takes Stew (Robert Williams, in his final role) from streetwise reporter to “Cinderella Man” as he becomes embroiled in the scandals of the high-society Schuyler family. Instead of chasing the story, he chases the girl — Anne, played to cool perfection by Harlow — and becomes the story himself. An inverse “Taming of the Shrew,” Frank Capra’s film has less to say about gender roles than it does about class, but Stew bristles against both in his new role as Mr. Anne Schuyler. When Stew becomes the story, he loses sight of himself — his own fault, perhaps — but one can’t help but think a snappy reporter such as Stew should’ve known better in the end. (AC)
62. Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936). An enterprising reporter (Jean Arthur) pretends to be an exhausted worker to earn the trust of the title character (Gary Cooper), who has inherited $20 million. At first mocking him in her newspaper stories, she, of course, falls in love. Remade as “Mr. Deeds” with Adam Sandler and Winona Ryder. (LH)
61. It Happened One Night (1934) Not just any reporter can claim he changed men’s fashion just by taking off his shirt. That honor belongs to Peter Warne (Clark Gable), a roguish out-of-work newspaperman who stumbles on a story and trades exclusivity for helping that story — getting socialite Ellie Andrews (Claudette Colbert) back to her gold-digger husband — to its natural conclusion. The sex appeal of Frank Capra’s pre-Code screwball comedy is palpable even before Gable removes his shirt, revealing bare skin instead of the standard undershirt, and it builds and builds until the Walls of Jericho finally come tumbling down. Although the claim that Gable tanked sales of undershirts until World War II is dubious at best, it’s still a legend worth repeating as a testament to this film’s staying power — and the incomparable allure of Gable in his prime. (AC)
60. The Front Runner (2018). Timing may not be everything, but it certainly didn’t help this examination of the ethical challenges involved in press coverage of Gary Hart’s affair with Donna Rice. In a political world where coverage of personal scandal is a given, the “should we or shouldn’t we” arguments about presidential primary frontrunner Hart can seem almost quaint. But while sometimes seeming like ersatz “West Wing,” the film remains an insightful look at the humans within a big news story — and the way in which conventional (political and otherwise) wisdom can change in a matter of weeks, days or hours. Marking a turning point where personal lives became an accepted subject for legit journalists, it features a strong ensemble cast, including a subdued Hugh Jackman as Hart, a heartbreaking Vera Farmiga as Hart’s wife, Lee, Alfred Molina as Ben Bradley, and Sara Paxton as a surprisingly nuanced Donna Rice. (LH)
59. Interview (2007). Steve Buscemi co-writes, directs and stars in this remake of the late Dutch filmmaker Theo Van Gogh’s 2003 film of the same name. Buscemi plays Pierre Peders, a political correspondent tasked with a puff-piece profile of paparazzi target Katya (Sienna Miller), a popular actress. The interview moves from a posh restaurant back to her place, where the conversation grows more intimate and confessional. The pleasure of “Interview” lies in watching Katya punish the prying Pierre by turning the questioning toward him. The film ultimately offers biting commentary on how journalists can be just as vulnerable as the subjects of their interviews. (SW)
58. Natural Born Killers (1994). At a time when true-crime podcasts dig up real trauma for our entertainment, director Oliver Stone’s 1994 film still feels primed for the current cultural conversation. Stone is at his best when he’s angry; here, he lambastes the American media’s commodification of serial killers. Mickey (Woody Harrelson) and Mallory (Juliette Lewis) are the titular murderers, and their saga is winkingly romanticized as a tale of star-crossed lovers. Plenty of that satire flew over the public’s head, of course, and less-observant critics accused Stone of doing precisely what he’s condemning. The film’s relentless visuals have not aged well, like a feature-length Marilyn Manson video, but its teeth remain sharp as ever. (MR)
57. Hustlers (2019) Jessica Pressler’s article The Hustlers at Scores is a longform article that seems to have everything: strippers, the 2008 financial crisis, a crime spree, and drugs (just a sprinkle!). Lorene Scafaria’s “Hustlers” has even more: female empowerment through friendship, a banging soundtrack, and Jennifer Lopez. (Oh, and Usher, too.) As a film about journalism, “Hustlers” sneaks up on you in the same way Destiny (Constance Wu) and Ramona (Lopez) outwit their slimy Wall Street marks. Julia Stiles ostensibly plays Pressler in a framing device about writing Destiny’s story for The Cut, and in a lesser film that device would feel fairly flimsy. In Scafaria’s hands, though, it’s a meta commentary on the insight and power that a female storyteller brings to female stories. “Hustlers” is a wild ride from start to finish, but it’s also one of the most empathetic movies of 2019 — empathy that started with Pressler’s reporting and continues long after the last shot. (AC)
56. Fletch (1985). Chevy Chase is the title character in Michael Ritchie’s 1985 adaptation of Gregory McDonald’s reporter / gumshoe. 
He’s a columnist for the L.A. Times with intersecting investigations into beachside drug traffic and murder for hire. As a starring vehicle for Chase (perhaps his best if you discount 1989’s dreadful sequel), “Fletch” inverts the novels’ occasional darkness into a quick-witted quip machine, but that energy feels appropriately extemporaneous here. Fletch spins a whirlwind of words in the wake of which defenses fall or hackles rise; either way, he’ll get the story. And amid the credit-card fraud, novelty teeth and goofy Scotch-Romanian aliases like John Coctoastan, he even squeezes in some righteous civic-service journalism. (NR)
55. Superman (1978). Richard Donner’s film was the first superhero blockbuster and remains one of the best. The eponymous hero has always been the boy scout, a hero of pure American ideals, and his alter ego Clark Kent treats being a reporter for the Daily Planet with no less reverence. Considering Superman represents the best of us, it’s no stretch imagining that he views journalism to be just as sacred as a savior to humanity. In fact, Lois Lane, in one of the film’s most iconic scenes, demonstrates the ways in which the press can shape a public figure’s image when she lands an interview with the man of steel, giving him his famous moniker. This time, however, it’s not a rising politician looking for votes, but an alien from Krypton seeking society’s acceptance. (MR)
54. Bad Education (2020). At a time when bombshell stories drop daily — and the leaders, movers and shakers at their centers continuously, and miraculously, emerge unscathed — “Bad Education” arrived as a refreshing reminder of journalists’ ability to take down the corrupt. When Roslyn School District Superintendent Frank Tassone (Hugh Jackman) encourages a high-school newspaper reporter (Geraldine Viswanathan) to dig deeper into what she calls a “puff piece” on a school construction project, she uncovers the largest public-school embezzlement scandal in American history. Based on true events and written by former Roslyn middle-school student Mike Makowsky, “Bad Education” aches with authenticity. You can practically smell pencil shavings, feel the heat of fluorescent lights and smell the fear of school administrators come budget season. Rather than simply satirizing Frank as a slick swindler, Makowsky, Jackman and director Cory Finley capture the warm light of a lifelong educator that still flickers in his soul, however faintly. When news surfaces about Tassone’s malfeasance, though, you’ll breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of justice served through journalism. (SW)
53. Newsfront (1978). Reporting may survive, but specific media rise and fall. Such was the case with newsreels, which once provided the general public’s prime access to moving images of events around the world. This Australian film — the feature debut of director Phillip Noyce — episodically and with great affection follows the lives of newsreel photographers whose jobs were eventually rendered obsolete by television. The terrific work of the cast is sometimes undermined by a cheesy score, but the film smartly balances the personal and the professional. Having an ordinary guy (Bill Hunter) rather than a Hollywood glamorous hero at the center of the story gives it a richer, human feel. (LH)
52. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (2020). Sacha Baron Cohen brought new meaning to “October surprise” with the fall 2020 release of this well-layered, well-lawyered sequel to a film you can find at #32. Kazakh journalist Borat Sagdiyev returns to America with teenage daughter Tutar (Oscar nominee Maria Bakalova) in tow to curry favor with a previous president. The hook? Borat is now too ubiquitous in the United States for blindsiding interviews; he’s even been immortalized in an unlicensed costume called “Stupid Foreign Reporter.” Cohen and crew smartly shift entire segments to Tutar, who’s swiftly bombarded with bad and barbaric ideas from America’s patriarchy about her body and career opportunities in journalism. It builds to an instant-legend climactic sequence with Rudy Giuliani that proved as effective at generating real headlines as “oh-dear-lord-no” laughter. Thankfully Cohen isn’t so naïve to believe cheekiness alone would cut through with any clarity these days. By focusing on Tutar’s pursuit of journalistic values and independence, “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” reminds us that strong women are the future we need and will get if we don’t mess it up. (NR)
51. Nothing But the Truth (2008). Director Rod Lurie’s earliest plots felt like wild, politically speculative fantasy only because they’ve still (thankfully) not yet been introduced as acts in America’s governmental circus. Lurie’s strongest civic drama bravely runs its hands along jagged edges of subject matter ripped from headlines. Inspired by the Judith Miller / Valerie Plame controversy, this 2008 film blends John Grisham’s smart pulp and whiplash banter akin to Aaron Sorkin with an unexpectedly great turn from Kate Beckinsale as a reporter jailed after refusing to name her source on a CIA exposé. As a rumination on First Amendment attacks and governmental accountability, it’s flawless. Just disregard the eye-rolling “gotcha” twist. (NR)
50. Salvador (1986). Photojournalist Richard Boyle collaborated with director Oliver Stone for this 1986 film about his experiences covering the Salvadoran Civil War. Their Oscar-nominated screenplay follows Boyle (James Woods, nominated for Best Actor) as he’s caught in the conflict between leftist guerrillas and the right-wing military, while also trying to get his girlfriend and her children out of the war-torn country. Throughout the ordeal, he keeps his camera close. In a key scene near the end, we see him and a fellow photographer wielding their cameras like weapons, holding them high as a fighter plane soars overhead. This intense moment captures the death-defying commitment of journalists who go behind the frontlines. As Boyle’s colleague says early on in the film, “You gotta get close to get the truth.” (SW)
49. The Devil Wears Prada (2006). 
Based on the best-selling novel by Lauren Weisberger and inspired by her experience as an assistant to American Vogue editor Anna Wintour, director David Frankel’s 2006 film exposes the ugly side of the fashion journalism world. It follows aspiring journalist Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) as she fetches coffee and serves as a verbal punching bag for Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), the ice queen editor of style magazine Runway. In her Oscar-nominated performance, Streep conveys the urgency with which magazine editors often operate, and Hathaway captures the desperation of young writers who want to climb the ladder but end up stooping low. Although it often seems to celebrate the superficiality of the fashion world, the film is ultimately a testament to maintaining integrity in the face of success. (SW)
48. The Quiet American (2002) Phillip Noyce’s adaptation of Graham Greene’s novel is a stylish, gauzy thriller and a character study of zeal and detachment that meet on the way up and down a scale of idealism. Thomas Fowler (an Oscar-nominated Michael Caine) is a low-output, low-energy London Times reporter covering the waning days of French-occupied Vietnam in 1952. After aw-shucks Alden Pyle (Brendan Fraser) shows up, Fowler finds himself back on the beat and tracking a story that will blow apart both the geopolitical world and his own principles of impartial inaction. “One has to take sides if one is to remain human,” a colleague tells Fowler. The idea of “human” isn’t necessarily equated with “good,” and Noyce’s film wrestles with this notion intriguingly if not quite harrowingly. There’s just a tad too much languor, and that in medias res opening crushes too much of the suspense. But the final montage feels like the toll paid for decisions made by both Fowler and the geopolitical machine beyond his control. This version is truer to the book — and the author’s intent — than the 1958 screen treatment. (NR)
47. Shock Corridor (1963). If you think Norman Bates had issues, meet Peter Breck, a reporter obsessed with winning a Pulitzer Prize. He concocts a scheme to get himself committed to an asylum to track down a murderer. No Nelly Bly, he finds the killer but loses his sanity in the process in this oddity that made the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry. Samuel Fuller directs and it’s hard to argue with his unique passion — even as the film makes you wonder if the minds behind the film were as troubled as its protagonist. Question: Would you pretend to be your boyfriend’s sister and claim molestation in order to help him win a big journalism prize? That’s one of the milder questions you’ll be asking after watching this one-of-a-kind flick. (LH)
46. Nothing Sacred (1937). Written by legendary screenwriter Ben Hecht and inspired by his time as a journalist, William A. Wellman’s comedy is a farce in every sense of the word. Reporter Wally Cook falls for a hoax, and in an attempt to redeem himself in the eyes of his editor and his readers, he stakes his reputation on the story of Hazel Flagg (Carole Lombard). Hazel makes the news because she’s dying of radium poisoning … except her doctor misdiagnosed her, and by the time Wally reaches her, the misdiagnosis turns into a lie, which grows and grows until it’s too big to ever be revealed. Falling for one hoax is bad enough, but two in a row? Wally might be the worst reporter on this list who’s still actually pretty good at his job. He’s the ultimate sucker for human stories, and Hazel’s is certainly one for the books. (AC)
45. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011). David Fincher’s remake of the 2009 Swedish film (based on former journalist Stieg Larsson’s bestselling book) opens with the fall of a reporter. Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) finds himself embroiled in a libel suit after writing a dodgy, damaging exposé on the expenditures of billionaire industrialist Hans-Erik Wennerström. Another wealthy businessman, Henrik Vanger (Christopher Plummer), whisks Mikael away to Stockholm, where he offers the disgraced journalist the proper evidence he needs against Wennerström in exchange for investigating his grand-niece’s 40-year-old disappearance and presumed murder. Despite the libel case, Vanger has faith in Mikael and his “keen investigative mind.” But Mikael’s mind isn’t nearly as sharp as that of Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), the titular young woman who becomes his partner. The two couldn’t be more different; Mikael is buttoned up while Lisbeth is tatted out. But they share endearing chemistry, emerging as one of the most engaging journalistic teams in cinematic memory. The film ultimately shows the importance of teamwork in any journalistic endeavor, especially one as dangerous as Mikael and Lisbeth’s thrilling investigation. (SW)
44. Roman Holiday (1953). Audrey Hepburn made her starring debut in yet another story of a high-profile woman who wants to be left alone and the journalist (Gregory Peck) who deceives her, accompanies her and falls in love with her. Location shooting adds to the charm. (LH)
43. Under Fire (1983). “Maybe we should have killed an American journalist 50 years ago.” A Nicaraguan woman utters that chilling line late in Roger Spottiswoode’s vibrant, verité-style 1983 drama, which was inspired by ABC reporter Bill Stewart’s 1979 murder at the hands of Nicaraguan government forces. Attention paid afterward was, of course, based on the assumption America was there to do the right thing — a pipe dream this incendiary film transforms into a pipe bomb. Nick Nolte is a photographer lured by a “neat little war and a nice hotel” who trades objectivity for altruism (or so he believes) to aid the revolutionary cause. Weary and wise about exploring his abandoned impartiality, “Under Fire” understands the ease of editorializing once bodies explode in front of you — and how even that can be part of a practiced, propagandist deception. The less-interesting love triangle that develops among Nolte, Joanna Cassidy and Gene Hackman is but a delivery system for a blunt, effective observation: War’s only objective truth is death. (NR)
42. Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004). 
Since its 2004 release, Adam McKay’s endlessly quotable film has become a comedic touchstone. The idea of viewing it through a journalistic lens sounds inherently ridiculous, but it’s a sublimely silly spoof of the 1970s aesthetic; the anchors here are treated with all the subtle grace of Burt Reynolds’ Playgirl spread. Protagonist Ron Burgundy (Will Ferrell) is a glorious creation — a boneheaded chauvinist whose penchant for rich mahogany and fine suits remains unparalleled in cinema. This entire premise, of course, is merely a canvas for McKay and Ferrell to crank up their surreal gags. Ron and the Channel 4 News Team show off their flute skills, get in gang fights, overcome their gender biases and aid in the birth of a baby panda. Tom Brokaw could never. A sequel followed in 2013. (MR)
41. The Year of Living Dangerously (1982). Set against a volatile political situation that the American public knew little about, Peter Weir’s drama involves rookie foreign correspondent Guy Hamilton (Mel Gibson) attempting to cover the Sukarno regime in Indonesia in the mid-1960s assisted by Billy Kwan (Linda Hunt in a gender-jumping performance that won her a Best Supporting Actress Oscar), Hamilton and a British embassy employee (Sigourney Weaver). (LH)
40. Between the Lines (1977). Alt weeklies don’t get much love in the film world. But there’s plenty to love in Joan Micklin Silver’s ensemble film about the staff of a Boston paper under threat of losing its counterculture cred thanks to an impending purchase. The cast of now-familiar faces includes Lindsay Crouse as a staff photographer in an on-again/off-again relationship with reporter John Heard. Bruno Kirby as a rookie reporter, Stephen Collins as a fellow scribe breaking into books, Jill Eikenberry behind the reception desk, Michael J. Pollard as an overgrown newsboy, Marilu Henner as a stripper, and, perhaps most memorably, Jeff Goldblum as a rock critic who gets to offer perhaps the greatest information-free lecture in the history of arts journalism. A rare 1970s film by a female director, the film’s charm is rooted in the sense that the quirky Back Bay Mainline paper and its real-life alt weekly brethren across the country are an important part of the character of a city. And there’s something vital missing when those scrappy papers disappear. (LH)
39. Frost/Nixon (2008). Veracity isn’t the thing in Ron Howard’s 2008 biopic about the televised 1977 interviews between deposed President Richard Nixon and British journalist David Frost. No explosive bombshells detonated here, as any admission of Watergate guilt was at best tacit. Instead, it’s a powerful commentary on TV’s power to influence memory and deliver, or deny, success in America. Frost wasn’t Nixon’s foe so much as the red lights of the cameras, which Howard films as a futuristic juggernaut from Nixon’s vantage point (while referencing Nixon’s disastrous, televised 1960 debate). What audiences deduce from one shot can determine how entire eras are remembered and interpreted — a force that easily tops celebrity and presidency. (NR)
38. Broadcast News (1987).James L. Brooks’ transcendent 1987 romantic comedy “Broadcast News” is both the director’s finest hour and a percipient glimpses into the newsroom. Holly Hunter’s idealistic news executive faces a romantic dilemma in choosing between two budding anchors — the talented-but-unremarkable-looking Aaron Altman (Albert Brooks) and the shallow-but-charming Tom Grunick (William Hurt). None of these characters is given short shrift, and Hurt’s performance betrays a real kindness in Grunick. Hunter’s struggle might be a genre trope at this point, but it’s given weight here as a metaphor for the battle between ratings and journalistic honesty. Surprisingly, the film’s ending suggests that answer may not be as clear as it seems. (MR)
37. Libeled Lady (1936). Attention newspaper editors: What do you do if, in your absence, your designated second in command runs a front-page story about an heiress’ indiscretions — a story that you discover is false? Well, of course, you try to stop the presses. Barring that, you try to recover all copies before it hits the newsstand. So far, so good. But, in “Libeled Lady,” the editor (Spencer Tracy) goes a step further. A big step. Faced with a libel suit because 500 copies of the paper went public, he does what is unlikely to be recommended in any J-school: He hires someone to entrap the heiress in a compromising position to embarrass her out of the lawsuit. One of the kicks of this screwball comedy is that there’s no judgment about such actions — even when it involves Tracy encouraging the wedding of his fiancée (a delightful Jean Harlow) to his partner in scheming (William Powell) in order to, well, why go into it? The plot is outlandish, the delights are many, the banter quick, and the journalistic lessons nil. (LH)
36. Reds (1981). John Reed, the American famed for “Ten Days that Shook the World,” his account of the Russian revolution, was unlikely fodder for a big-budget Hollywood film. But Warren Beattie’s ambitious bio managed to be both intimate and epic, garnering praise from some while putting others to sleep. Much of its more than three-hour running time is spent on Reed’s relationship with Louise Bryant (Diane Keaton), who would become a war correspondent, as well as encounters with Eugene O’Neill (Jack Nicholson) and Emma Goldman (Maureen Stapleton, who picked up a Best Supporting Actress Oscar). The details of American Communist and Socialist party faction infighting may get a little fuzzy, but it’s hard to deny the power of “the witnesses,” real-life interview subjects whose insights punctuate the film. (LH)
35. Five Star Final (1931). The title expression may be a thing of journalism past, but this drama still packs a punch. Credit that, in part, to “Five Star Final” being made in that narrow window of time when filmmakers weren’t restricted by Motion Picture Production Code guidelines (which didn’t come into effect until 1934). The lack of censorship shows not just in the sexual references early on but in the denouement, where the bad guys aren’t punished. Edward G. Robinson, fresh from “Little Caesar,” plays a big city newspaper editor pressured by his publisher and the folks in marketing and circulation who have decided that “our weak spot is the editorial department.” While the editor is resistant, he opts to revisit a 20-year-old story where a woman was acquitted of killing her husband. He puts a team of reporters (including a pre-“Frankenstein” Boris Karloff) on the story and they quickly discover that the woman, now remarried, has kept her identity secret from her about-to-be-wed daughter. A front-page story could wreck the marriage, setting up an ethics dilemma with real human consequences. The result is a muckraking melodrama that shows journalists at their less-than finest. (LH)
34. Absence of Malice (1981). Nominated for three Academy Awards, Sydney Pollack’s 1981 film immerses viewers in the world of truth and consequences. When a federal prosecutor (Bob Balaban) leaks the investigation of mob heir Michael Gallagher (Paul Newman) for the presumed murder of a longshoremen’s union official, Miami Standard reporter Megan Carter (Sally Field) writes a series of articles that turn Gallagher’s world upside down. Field’s poignant performance makes us feel the enormous weight of Megan’s reporting, while Newman’s Oscar-nominated turn captures the painful desperation of an innocent man living in the shadow of criminals. As their lives collide in disastrous ways, we see how the pen truly can be mightier than the sword. “Absence of Malice” powerfully explores the personal impact of the press and should be on the short list of must-views for journalism classes. (SW)
33. The Paper (1994). As soon as the Universal Pictures logo dissolves into a clock, Ron Howard’s 1994 film establishes itself as a clever and compelling race-against-time story. When two young African American men are wrongfully accused of murder, the New York Sun’s metro editor (Michael Keaton) embarks on a daylong crusade to prove their innocence and save the paper’s reputation. Through a razor-sharp screenplay by David and Stephen Koepp and Howard’s slick direction, “The Paper” finds suspense and humor in the chaotic nature of a newsroom (sorry for the jabs, columnists, but they are pretty funny) and the rapid-fire reporting it requires to run on time. The ink-stained cast includes Glenn Close, Randy Quaid and Robert Duvall. (SW)
32. Safety Not Guaranteed (2012). “Have you ever stared fear and danger in the eye and said, ‘Yes’?” In Colin Trevorrow’s winsomely low-key 2012 romantic sci-fi comedy, it’s an alleged time traveler’s query of an alternative-weekly intern. It’s also the question journalists consider when comforting the afflicted or afflicting the comfortable (or maybe even just falling in love). “Safety Not Guaranteed” tries less to persuade us of time-travel bona fides (or the impartiality of journalists played by Aubrey Plaza, Jake Johnson and Karan Soni) than clever sincerity. The result is a film that diverges from convention as often as timelines on Doc Brown’s chalkboard while also resisting cheap cynicism. (NR)
31. Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan (2006) In anyone else’s hands,
Kazakh journalist Borat Sagdiyev would’ve been a 150-pound goofball. In Sacha Baron Cohen’s, he’s a 500-pound guerrilla whose journalistic conceit is as much a costume as the suit Cohen is said to have never washed, a pungent way to put unsuspecting (but often deserving) marks on their heels. It’s more than a broken-English malapropism when Borat speaks of the “U.S. and A” in Larry Charles’ 2006 satire. There is a split between how we want to be seen as the United States and what is, at times, truly America at its worst — a sickness made sickly funny in one of the greatest comedies ever made. (NR)
30. Meet John Doe (1941). Arguably Frank Capra’s best film (yes, even considering Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and It’s a Wonderful Life) … up to a point. The problem is the ending. Capra himself said he didn’t quite solve it. Still, for most of the way, it’s a smart mix of drama, romance and comedy about a reporter (Barbara Stanwyck) who fabricates the story of a down-and-out guy with suicide plans. When the column catches the public imagination, her paper hires a homeless man (Gary Cooper) to play the part, spawning “John Doe” clubs around the country. Of course, the truth must eventually come out and that’s where the up-until-then expertly made and beautifully shot film starts to wobble. Still, it’s a treat after you’ve hung out with Sen. Jefferson Smith and George Bailey one too many times. (LH)
29. Medium Cool(1969). Cinematographer Haskell Wexler’s 1969 debut feature mixes fictional storytelling and documentary footage to capture the incendiary summer of 1968 in Chicago. At the center of it all is hardened TV news cameraman John Cassellis (Robert Forster). After discovering his network is in cahoots with the FBI, he’s embroiled in conflict heating up across the city and nation. The film’s harrowing climax thrusts viewers into the middle of actual riots surrounding the city’s Democratic National Convention. A portrait of a journalist facing harsh realities outside of his camera’s frame, “Medium Cool” is as relevant now as it was 50 years ago. (SW)
28. The China Syndrome (1979).The 1970s served as the golden age of silver-screen journalism, and James Bridges’ film is one of the era’s standouts — beyond the terrifying timeliness of landing in theaters just 12 days before a real-life nuclear accident at Three Mile Island. It’s a harrowing story about two reporters (Jane Fonda and Michael Douglas) wrestling with whether to release secretly captured footage of a nuclear plant control room during a crisis. Is it worth scaring the public? Are they legally within their rights? They disagree, conflict ensues, and things only get worse when the owner of the plant starts making people disappear. Jack Lemmon stars as the plant manager, who has to contend with his job and his secret knowledge of dangerous construction flaws. It’s a gripping story, with real-world corollaries, particularly the presence of a large corporation willing to risk nuclear meltdown for a profit margin. (ED)
27. The Parallax View (1974). The midpoint of Alan J. Pakula’s “paranoia trilogy” (between “Klute” and “All the President’s Men”) is stately and sinister in ways that would earn Hitchcock’s nod of approval. Adapted from Loren Singer’s novel, influenced by JFK and RFK’s assassinations and incensed over all they stole, “View” landed weeks before President Richard Nixon’s resignation in Watergate’s wake. Often eclipsing visible light in vampiric shadow, it now feels like a premonitory vision of America at its most dangerously divisive. Using his “talent for creative irresponsibility,” newspaper reporter Joe Frady (Warren Beatty) investigates the Parallax Corporation, which foments violent tendencies to foster assassins. As pulp powered by a charmingly self-aggrandizing (but eventually hardened) journalist, “View” pairs well with “Shock Corridor.” But this is a more mercilessly twisted knife. Unsparingly depicted in an unbroken take, the Parallax conditioning video is among Pakula’s monuments to masterful tension, alongside some Space Needle pandemonium, an airplane bomb scare and a bleak climax. Its unease wriggles into your synapses and its cautionary reverberations (sadly) still register. (NR)
26. A Mighty Heart (2007). At the time of its release, the fate of kidnapped journalist Daniel Pearl was well known. But even with the passing of just a few years, “A Mighty Heart” has shown itself to be far more than just a movie-of-the-week-ish docudrama. It’s a study in patience, diligence and dignity, primarily following the pregnant Mariane Pearl (Angelina Jolie), steadfastly trying to track down her husband’s whereabouts. (LH)
25. To Die For (1995). Back when Gus Van Sant was one of America’s greatest working filmmakers, he took inspiration from the Pamela Smart case that dominated national headlines and crafted this lurid 1995 satire of class and professional drive. Nicole Kidman’s Suzanne Stone dreams of being not just an anchorwoman but a hard-hitting journalist. The problem is she has all the confidence without any of the integrity. Her career aspirations lead her to recruit a couple of vapid high school boys in a murder plot, all while hoping to climb the ladder at a local news station. Kidman plays Stone like Elle Woods from hell — bubbly, primped and devoid of a moral compass. “To Die For” ultimately offers more insight about class and privilege than it does journalism, but Stone’s middling rise and steep plummet goes to show that it takes much more than blind ambition to make it in the biz. (MR)
24. Capote (2005). As this film tells it, Truman Capote’s reportage of “In Cold Blood” — his landmark long-form about the Clutter murders and their perpetrators — knocked him flat. But you wouldn’t feel compelled to help him up. Some biopics are warts and all. In Bennett Miller’s film, the warts are all in what remains Philip Seymour Hoffman’s finest, bravest work (and, next to “Infamous,” the better Capote biopic). Hoffman blends flamboyant mannerisms and towering reputation with subtle menace and crumbling composure. Capote shifts from comic raconteur to puppet master to, finally, the loser in a Faustian bargain. Against conventional biopic structure, hell pulls at Capote from all sides and wins out. (NR)
23. Spider-Man (2002). Is there any fictional editor more instantly recognizable than J. Jonah Jameson? 
As embodied by J.K. Simmons in director Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man films (first here in 2002, then twice more), Jameson’s signature cigar-and-mustache bluster is often played for laughs. But his crusade to constantly depict Spider-Man as a menace to society — despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary — reveals something darker about journalism’s nature: For better or worse, the editor decides what version of the truth sells the most papers. In a way, this makes Jameson a minor villain for Peter Parker. Complete with cartoonish cackles, his is a moderate evil we can’t help but love. (AC)
22. Almost Famous (2000).The goofy giggles of the “I am a golden god!” speech. The unfairly maligned “Tiny Dancer” scene, which underscores an unabashedly sincere communal apology. Penny Lane (Kate 
Hudson) twirling in a concert’s afterglow to the sounds of Cat Stevens’ “The Wind.” Sure, Cameron Crowe’s quasi-autobiographical look at his tenure as a 15-year-old Rolling Stone stringer leans heavily on “quasi.” But whether sadness or euphoria, its observations are trenchant. Instinct is your greatest asset when idols let you down. That first gulp of passion in a profession you love can quench you for years. Sometimes the bassists and drummers don’t have much to say. And as Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Lester Bangs says: “The only true currency you have in this bankrupt world is what you confess to each other when you’re uncool.” (NR)
21. The Philadelphia Story (1940). Jimmy Stewart is a reporter assigned to cover the wedding of a Philadelphia socialite (Katharine Hepburn in her comeback film after a slump where she was labeled box-office poison). But soon — along with her fiancé (John Howard) and her ex-husband (Cary Grant) — he becomes romantically entangled with her in this classic comedy. It was later musicalized, to lesser effect, as “High Society” with Frank Sinatra in the reporter role, along with Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly. (LH)
20. The Killing Fields (1984). Dread drives Roland Joffé’s Oscar-winning biographical drama from 1984 about Cambodian journalist Dith Pran (Haing S. Ngor) and his American friend Sydney Schanberg (Sam Waterston) on the ground at the start of the Cambodian genocide. Their disparate stories speak to the way that horrifying moment in time was experienced by the people who lived it versus the reporters who regularly flew in and out. Local reporting is an element of war reporting sometimes ignored in a genre filled with tales about international journalist daring-do. Here, it’s the lens through which the horror builds. Mike Oldfield (of “The Exorcist” fame) provides a score that is an intense, instant-classic accompaniment as things fall apart around our heroes — and then between them. (ED)
19. Kill the Messenger (2014). In 1995, San Jose Mercury News reporter Gary Webb uncovered connections between the CIA, the Contras in Nicaragua and Los Angeles drug dealers. His subsequent “Dark Alliance” series suggested the CIA covered up a flooding of the United States with cocaine, as long as enough profits were funneled back into Nicaraguan rebels’ fight against communist rule. Michael Cuesta’s 2014 dramatization of Webb’s reportage evokes the detailed energy and ennui of enterprise work, and thanks to Jeremy Renner’s best performance outside “The Hurt Locker,” Webb comes across as a more meaningfully complex character than most comparable crusaders, real or fictitious. Sure, the second half takes a more predictable descent into doubt over Webb’s reporting from menacing government spooks, jealous colleagues, nervous editors and his weary wife (Rosemarie DeWitt). But it’s the rare journalism film to nail the details of desk messes and disturbed consciences, and the even rarer one to prominently feature the SPJ logo. (NR)
18. Ernie Pyle’s Story of G.I. Joe / The Story of G.I. Joe (1945). The downtime, the bitterness and humiliation of defeat, and the constant state of anxiety experienced by soldiers at war upstage conventional Hollywood heroism in this WWII film. “We’re just the mugs along for the ride,” says a soldier early on. And while war correspondent Ernie Pyle (Burgess Meredith) is also along for the ride, there’s a strong underlying sense that we wouldn’t know these intimate aspects of the lives of soldiers if it weren’t for the guy with the typewriter and the eye for detail who bravely joined the combatants into hell. (LH)
17. The Post (2017). When a news truck speeds into the frame like Hans Gruber’s van full of terrorists rolling up in “Die Hard,” welcome to the hands of a master like Steven Spielberg. For a film as far from his more financially fruitful fantasy lands as possible, “The Post” is among his most visually deft — with a smorgasbord of spatial and geometric symbolism that separates its characters and, at times, minimizes or magnifies them. Throw in a killer cast (that lets you know Spielberg watched great TV at the time and pulled the best people from those shows) and perfect pacing to boot. Like “Spotlight” (with whom it shares screenwriter Josh Singer), the film is a mea culpa for cajoling with those whom you might cover on your beat. But by intertwining history’s annals and apprehension for the future (in a stunning visual of the press run as DNA), “The Post” offers its own meaty, momentous meditation on the here and now. (NR)
16. The Insider (1999). Michael Mann’s only film not predicated on physical violence, but no less ferocious than his other work — 
especially given the dubious appetites with which corporations gobble up media today. To dramatize the story behind a controversial “60 Minutes” segment about Big Tobacco’s culpability in cultivating addiction, Mann cast Russell Crowe as whistleblower Jeffrey Wigand and Al Pacino as CBS News producer Lowell Bergman. Crowe’s Oscar might say “Gladiator” on it, but residual goodwill from what remains his finest performance certainly helped — a man confronting flaws and failures with an almost invasive introspection and finding a path to humility that hurts and helps in equal measure. Mann also manipulates Pacino’s clockwork bellowing into a progression of pyrrhic victories, reversed only in the 11th hour. In its second half, this tale of legacy, integrity, ego and bravery amplifies the siege against journalistic probity against the backdrop of a lucrative CBS corporate sale that this story could jeopardize. The shining armor with which print saves as TV caves has a bit more tarnish these days. “You won,” Lowell is told. “Yeah? What did I win?” he replies. Indeed, holding off barbarians at the gate is noble until you need to sell them the gate to fund the fight. Far more portentous and infuriating today than in 1999, “The Insider” conveys the suspense between breath and blown whistles as well as somber realities of the modern news landscape. (NR)
15. Nightcrawler (2014). Tony Gilroy’s thriller follows Jake Gyllenhaal’s iconic sociopath Louis Bloom as he rises up the local-news food chain as a late-night accident chaser. Car accidents, home invasions, domestic violence — nothing is too grisly for Bloom’s eye. The pursuit of scoops — and the network ratings that accompany them — soon see him going to darker lengths to get the stories. The 24-hour news market requires personalities willing to go the distance in service of their craft. As Louis is fond of saying: “If you want to win the lottery, first you have to make the money to buy the ticket.”(ED)
14. Good Night, and Good Luck (2004). Edward R. Murrow didn’t live to see it, but the CBS newsman foretold it in 1958, warning that TV’s use only to distract, delude, amuse or insulate — and not also illuminate or inspire — would be its undoing. Director/co-writer 
George Clooney’s docudrama chronicles Murrow’s commentaries about Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s destructive anti-Communist crusades of the 1950s. The film wisely refuses to simplify Murrow as a conquering hero. Instead, David Strathairn’s expert performance lets us see him work through plenty of trepidation — rising above personal attacks, political bluster and corporate pressure to persuade his viewers that lines had been crossed. For all its serious subject matter, Clooney and Grant Heslov’s screenplay isn’t without time-capsule chuckles, Dianne Reeves’ silken singing voice, snappy newsroom banter or nick-of-time levity. Robert Elswit’s ravishing black-and-white cinematography also savors the era’s ducktails, pomades and smoke. But without responsible information, TV is “merely wires and lights in a box.” The titular signoff begins as Murrow’s trademark and ends as a challenge to an entire medium — one sadly too often unmet today. (NR)
13. Ace in the Hole aka The Big Carnival (1951). Billy Wilder’s pitch-black noir stars Kirk Douglas as maybe the most morally reprehensible journalist ever put to celluloid. Washed-up reporter Chuck Tatum spots an opportunity for fame when he hears of a small-town man trapped under debris in a cave. In true Wilder fashion, “Ace in the Hole” goes to some shockingly dark places as it reveals the depths of Tatum’s cynicism: He exploits just about every angle of the tragedy, from prolonging the rescue attempts to capitalizing on people’s fear of a local Native American tribe. Most significantly, however, the film is a cry against people’s desire to witness human suffering and the media’s willingness to deliver it as sensationally as possible. (MR)
12. The End of the Tour (2015). James Ponsoldt’s 2015 film presents Rolling Stone reporter David Lipsky’s (Jesse Eisenberg) five-day 
interview with the late author David Foster Wallace (Jason Segel) as a journalistic journey of self-discovery. Rolling Stone paid for, but never published, the interview; Lipsky later turned his transcripts into a best-selling book that became the basis for the movie. Given the Wallace estate’s disavowal of the film, it becomes a question of whether the film’s depiction of the author is true to his person or the persona created and embraced by millions of readers who wished for an author who felt as if he jumped straight out of his novels. Likely the latter, but “Tour” embraces that dichotomy — Lipsky himself searching for the answer to that question and finding himself, and the audience, humbled by the humanity of a man who left us with unforgettable insights. (ED)
11. Deadline USA(1952). “A free press, like a free life, is always in danger.” In perhaps cinema’s most quotable journalism movie, Humphrey Bogart plays a newspaper editor trying to land a big story about a mob boss even as his paper faces acquisition from a rival, who plans to fold it. The film spends more time in the newsroom than most of its ilk, adding an air of authenticity and showing a world beyond just publisher/editor/reporter. The supporting cast — including Kim Hunter as the editor’s ex who knows she’ll always play second fiddle to the presses, and Ethel Barrymore as the widow of the former owner — is first rate. (LH)
10. Groundhog Day (1993). Thanks to Harold Ramis’s 1993 film, the phrase “Groundhog Day” is now ingrained in the global lexicon with political figures, military personnel, theologians and others referencing it to describe seemingly unending situations like the one in
which Bill Murray’s character finds himself. When TV weatherman Phil Connors covers Groundhog Day festivities in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, for the fourth year in a row, he relives the day over and over in a time loop, providing a fitting metaphor for the constant-content world of daily news, but it’s also something deeper. Through this high concept, Ramis and co-writer Danny Rubin portray a man finding magic in the mundane. By switching up his attitude and routine, Phil doesn’t just become a better journalist. He eventually embraces the little town on which he reports every year and emerges as a better person. “Groundhog Day” is a great romantic comedy, but it’s also a beautiful — and very funny — love letter to life itself. (SW)
9. Christine (2016). Investigative reporter Christine Chubbuck became the first person to commit suicide on live TV — a drastic action that should have changed broadcast television forever, yet somehow remains a footnote in the history of journalism. Directed by Antonio Campos’s “Christine” takes the real story and transforms it into an utterly devastating portrait of a woman’s final days as she is undone by a deadly combination of earnestness and ambition. Rebecca Hall plays Chubbuck to quiet perfection, portraying her as a victim of her own mental illness as much as the media’s growing tendency to emphasize blood and guts over compassionate and informative stories. In the film, the abrasive Christine battles both ratings and her own insecurities while trying desperately to rise above what she views as inferior news coverage. Even an attempt to play the game gets her nowhere and pushes her to that dreadful final act. “Christine” is a reflection of the smaller tolls the Watergate era had on the media as journalists struggled to find their place in a changing world. Sadly, Christine never found hers. (AC)
8. Network (1976). Sidney Lumet’s Oscar winner brutally satirizes nearly all of society’s ailments, but the exploitation of Peter Finch’s mentally deteriorating news anchor remains its most memorable and for good reason; his “mad prophet of the airwaves” is an 
unfortunately prescient example of the outrage machine that too often dominates both aisles of corporate media. Today, Finch’s character would probably face a Twitter ban and spout troubling anti-immigration rhetoric, all while drumming up a considerable fanbase. Like most targets skewered in Paddy Chayefsky’s script, the characters running the UBS network aren’t so much mad as hell; they’re bitter, sad and morally bankrupt. (MR)
7. Sweet Smell of Success(1957) Movies don’t get much more cynical than this noir classic in which a sketchy press agent (Tony Curtis) does whatever it takes to get in the good graces of a career make-or-breaker gossip columnist (Burt Lancaster). Penned by playwright Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman and shot in glorious black and white by James Wong, it’s packed with dialogue that’s simultaneously unnatural (“You’re a cookie full of arsenic”) and just right. (LH)
6. Zodiac (2007). The still-unidentified Zodiac, a serial murderer who made Northern California his own private ant farm from 1968 to 1969, had but five confirmed kills. He also had a few living victims: Robert Graysmith, Paul Avery and David Toschi — respectively, a 
code-breaking cartoonist at the San Francisco Chronicle, that newspaper’s crime reporter and the San Francisco police inspector who became intertwined with both of them. David Fincher’s epic drills into the dark pathologies of each man’s process — anxiety, compulsion, uncertainty, miscommunication, territoriality. Through those power dynamics, “Zodiac” becomes a spine-tingling evocation of how a desperation for definitive answers can obscure personal danger — how discovery and understanding can come to supersede sanity, safety, justice or even reason. So insistent, and successful, is it at duplicating that hyper-vigilance that, by film’s end, you may try writing a “k” in two, not three, strokes to see the difference. (NR)
5. Shattered Glass (2003). Most journalists know the story of Stephen Glass, the star reporter at The New Republic who fabricated most of what he wrote for the prestigious publication in the mid-1990s. Screenwriter Billy Ray’s 2003 directorial debut breathes new life into the scandal, keeping us on the edge of our seats as it builds toward Glass’s inevitable fall from grace. Hayden Christensen’s performance stirs up a surprising amount of empathy for the deceitful writer, but Ray wisely focuses on his editor, Chuck Lane (Peter Sarsgaard). When Forbes Digital Tool reporters question Glass’s article on computer hackers, Lane unravels a web of lies that opens his eyes to the cracks in the fact-checking system — and how reporters can charm their way through them. Sarsgaard makes the editor’s anxiety and frustration our own as he’s forced to resist Glass’s manipulation and answer to staff members who love the young writer. “Shattered Glass” is a suspenseful, inspiring exploration of what journalism is all about — searching for the truth, no matter what the cost. (SW)
4. Citizen Kane (1941). Orson Welles’ legendary 1941 pseudo-biopic combines the lives of numerous yellow journalists from the turn of the 20th century into one of the most magnetic characters in cinema history. Welles used cutting-edge techniques to tell the swift rise and crushing fall of his titular character, Charles Foster Kane. From the mysterious first utterance on his deathbed — “Rosebud” — back to his tragic boyhood, his first newspaper and his attempt at politics, the audience knows Kane and comes to understand his overriding desire to be loved. Most of all, Welles explores the way in which the early newspaper tycoons — such as William Randolph Hearst or Joseph Pulitzer — used their control to push their own agendas and fulfill their own desires. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and no power is greater than that of the storyteller. When that power is lost, however, Welles makes sure we still empathize with a man whose “greatness” was never good enough for him. The greatest American film of all time? Surely among them, it’s a time capsule to an era of journalism that continues to define where the profession remains to this day. (ED)
3. His Girl Friday (1940) Featuring one of the all-time great duos of the silver screen, Howard Hawks’ comedy stars Rosalind Russell as Hildy Johnson, a feisty reporter on the verge of retiring to get married, and Cary Grant as Walter Burns, Hildy’s headstrong editor and ex-husband, who will do whatever it takes to keep her on the job. (Sound familiar? It’s a gender-tweaked version of “The Front Page.”) Luckily for Walter, the politically motivated execution of a man who may have been railroaded provides Walter with the opportunity to give Hildy one last job and convince her this fast-paced, gonzo career isn’t one she can give up for good. “His Girl Friday” is simultaneously a love letter to — and an indictment of — reporters who will resort to anything, including bending the rules, to get to the truth. The additional layer of Hildy being the star reporter in a time when female journalists were often relegated to the society pages makes “His Girl Friday” a rarity during the Golden Age of Hollywood. Hildy could easily have been a joke, but the movie adores her as much as Walter does. She is, after all, a woman who tackles and tricks her way to truth — a morally ambiguous editor’s dream girl, if there ever was one. (AC)
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2. All the President’s Men (1976). Removed from the immediacy of its subject matter — Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein’s reportage that ultimately undid Richard Nixon’s presidency — this remains a vigorously entertaining pursuit of accuracy and accountability. Revisited today, it’s easy to see now just how much inspiration David Fincher took from this for “Zodiac” in terms of the natural ebb and flow of not just investigative journalism but workplace dynamics. For those eager to watch all the dominoes fall, screenwriter William Goldman’s ending will undoubtedly feel anticlimactic. Journalists will walk away satisfied knowing they’ve seen the first one tip and amazed by the shoe leather and sweat equity expended to get there. Director Alan J. Pakula and inimitable cinematographer Gordon Willis concoct any number of astonishing visual compositions, but two stand out. The first is Woodward (Robert Redford) hurtling down a dark street lit thinly at its end by a streetlight when he’s late for his climactic meeting with his covert source Deep Throat — as if the window of opportunity is narrowing behind him. The last is the closing dioptic shot of Woodward and Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) pounding away at their typewriters once they’ve put the pieces together while Nixon’s reelection inauguration plays in the foreground. It’s easy to gaze upon the murk up front. Bless those who continually throw their hands into it to dig deep for truth and consequences. (NR)
1. Spotlight (2015). Universally acclaimed for both the important story it tells and the way it showcases the relentless research that goes into such far-reaching investigative stories, this Oscar-winning Best Picture also earned kudos for its ensemble cast, which includes 
Michael Keaton, Mark Ruffalo and Rachel McAdams who, in one scene, perfectly conveys the “did he really say that?” moment that many journalists have experienced on lesser stories. But, like a good newspaper team, “Spotlight” is never about one person. Rather, it’s about the relentless search for the truth, in this case regarding child abuse in the Catholic Church investigated by the Boston Globe “Spotlight” team. Wisely, director/writer Tom McCarthy and co-writer Josh Singer avoid cluttering the film with subplots and unnecessary background on the news team. This is a film that trusts its audience to care about what’s important and to respect the work involved in uncovering it. (LH)
