Entertainment
Review: In the bloodless 'September 5,' TV producers tackle an infamous terrorist attack
The 1972 Summer Olympics opened in Munich, West Germany with 4,000 journalists and 5,000 white doves. It was its first time hosting the Games since you-know-who and the you-know-whats back in 1936. The country hoped to broadcast a message of peace.
Over in the ABC network control booth, however, Roone Arledge (Peter Sarsgaard), the president of the sports division, is more interested in losers. The bloodless procedural “September 5” starts with a scene of Arledge’s ratings genius at work as he orders his crew to cut away from a triumphant winner to their devastated rival. Failure is where you’ll find humanity and fittingly, the Swiss director Tim Fehlbaum has made a breakneck tragedy about one of the 20th century’s biggest failures: the massacre of 11 members of the Israeli Olympic team in a hostage crisis that starts just minutes into the movie.
Although warned in advance that this exact attack could happen, the Olympic organizers failed to stop the terrorists, and the terrorists in turn failed to force Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir to cede to their demands. Meanwhile in the ABC newsroom, Arledge and his colleagues Marvin Bader (Ben Chaplin) and Geoffrey Mason (John Magaro) fail to cover the crisis flawlessly, beaming two horrible screw-ups to a live audience of 900 million.
Fehlbaum keeps us focused on the camera crew. Once the first shots are fired, things take off at a sprint. Who’s got a walkie–talkie? Who should anchor? Who spricht Deutsch? The pace stays hectic even when the dash becomes a marathon. Our three leads have three different priorities: Arledge is the humanist; Bader, the ethicist; Mason, the visualist who wants the right images. (“You got it, Kubrick,” one of his men jokes.) Fehlbaum and his co-screenwriters Moritz Binder and Alex David have also concocted a German production assistant (Leonie Benesch) who is promoted to translator and then some, as well as an older German technician (Ferdinand Dörfler) who exists mostly to remind us that the horrors of the 1940s were still very present to anyone over 40. “I still remember exactly what gunshots sound like,” he maintains.
Arledge is a household name with a television career that ranged from the puppet Lamb Chop to “Monday Night Football” and “20/20.” He and Mason share a gold medalist’s drive to compete with the other channels and tend to out-vote Bader two to one. (It’s worth noting here that Bader was the son of Holocaust survivors, although the character is kept too busy to mention it himself.) Mason, who gradually emerges as the central character, has an intuitive sense of when to cut away and when to dissolve. Played in a dissociative fever state by Magaro, he can lose sight of what he might actually be putting on air. (A possible execution of an athlete, for one.) He’s also the youngest of the trio, and you can easily imagine “Network’s” Howard Beale sermonizing about him four years later as the shining example of a TV-weaned generation who worship the tube as “the gospel, the ultimate revelation.”
“September 5” is cut like a modern thriller — it’s all go, go, go — and the cinematographer, Markus Förderer, favors handheld work, as if to stick it to the heavy 1970s cameras that here get laboriously pushed out of the office and up a small hill. The images are so retro-grainy that they look like they were filtered through tweed. Early on while our eyes are still adjusting to the style, the dim bluish lighting and the hectic way people run around grabbing maps and slamming rotary phones almost feel like a send-up of a CIA spy flick. Later, when the gang pokes fun at the local police for attempting to disguise themselves in comical chef hats, it’s momentarily a bleak satire of these Keystone Kops.
Otherwise, this story is strictly contained. There are no close-ups with the victims or the villains or the rest of the German security team that barges into the movie like standard-issue action heroes only to retreat a beat later. There are also no grisly images or passionate arguments that might kick up our own emotions. Instead, Fehlbaum fills the frame with his fetish for tactile objects: stopwatches, soldering irons, stacks of sandwiches, dot-matrix printers. Accustomed to digital effects, we do a double-take when a woman uses her hand to stick the ABC logo on the lens just so.
Fehlbaum is fascinated by how a story gets told and proves the impact of rewinding a shot to play it again in slow motion. The film refuses to stray from the ABC bunker, showing us no more than what the broadcasters have managed to catch on tape via their doggedness and trickery, like forging a fake athlete‘s ID for an employee (Daniel Adeosun) who uses his phony credentials to run reels of film stock back and forth from the sequestered Olympic Village like a one-man relay race. Fehlbaum milks a good amount of tension out of men in headsets barking orders at their desks, although the conceit is harder to pull off once the action moves farther away and news comes in slower and slower.
From left, John Magaro, Ben Chaplin and Peter Sarsgaard in the movie “September 5.”
(Paramount Pictures)
One of “September 5’s” ironies is that its breathless content creators seem bored by their own product the second they run out of new things to show. If Arledge was still alive, he’d insist on humanizing the movie’s own script. Yet, the coldness is what allows these TV people to do their jobs. Sometimes they barely even seem to understand the updates they’ve been handed until the anchor repeats them on air. When the facts become too painful, the room stands slack for a second and then carries on. (In recent interviews, the real-life Mason has admitted that afterward, he allowed himself a good cry.)
Benjamin Walker’s Peter Jennings has a jaw-dropper of a line about knowing the kill-zone radius of a grenade. “No offense, guys,” he adds, “but you’re Sports. You’re in way over your head.” If this movie had arrived before “Network” and all the media cynicism that’s since come to pass, it would have dropped jaws, too, especially when sportscaster Howard Cosell bleats, “We’re building up to what I think will be quite the climax.”
But now, the TV has trained us to see everything as sports: dating shows, presidential debates, battlefield yards won and lost. Conversely, we tend to demand political endorsements from our entertainment, and the fact that “September 5” stays several football fields away from taking a stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict will likely irritate a few people. Better to view it as a film about facing the challenge of not having all the answers. As the veteran newsman Jim McKay sighs: “None of us know what will happen to the course of world history — we don’t know.”
‘September 5’
In English, German and Hebrew, with English subtitles
Rated: R, for language
Running time: 1 hour, 34 minutes
Playing: In limited release Friday, Dec. 13
Movie Reviews
Bandar Movie Review: Bobby Deol roars in Anurag Kashyap’s unsettling legal thriller that refuses to spoon-feed
Name: Bandar
Director: Anurag Kashyap
Cast: Bobby Deol, Sanya Malhotra, Sapna Pabbi, Saba Azad, Jitendra Joshi, Raj B Shetty
Writer: Sudip Sharma, Abhishek Banerjee
Rating: 3.5/5
Plot:
Bandar follows Sameer Mehra’s character, essayed by Bobby Deol, a fading star who is desperately clinging to his past glory. Just as he attempts to rebuild his life and finds solace in a new relationship, his world comes crashing down. A former girlfriend files a heinous allegation against him, dragging him into a vicious, high-profile legal battle. Written by Sudip Sharma and Abhishek Banerjee, the film moves away from standard Bollywood courtroom setups. Instead, it dives straight into the murky waters of social media trials, public perception, and a sluggish judicial system where the truth gets buried under layers of gray.
What works:
Known for his chaotic energy, Anurag Kashyap takes a remarkably mature and controlled approach here. He avoids sensationalizing a highly sensitive topic, choosing instead to focus on the psychological claustrophobia of the protagonist. The prison sequences are exceptionally well-shot. They create a suffocating, raw atmosphere that makes you feel the weight of the character’s confinement. The script successfully avoids preachy, black-and-white monologues. It bravely forces the audience to confront their own biases regarding modern-day public trials and the digital judge-and-jury culture.
What doesn’t:
Clocking in at nearly two hours and twenty minutes, Bandar feels heavily weighed down in the second half. The narrative stretches thin, and a few subplots demand too much patience, making you wish for a tighter edit. The film stubbornly refuses to take a definitive moral stance or offer a neat resolution. While film enthusiasts might appreciate the complexity, mainstream viewers looking for a clear-cut ending or emotional payoff might walk away feeling detached and frustrated.
Performances:
- Bobby Deol is the beating heart of this film. Stripping away the massive macho swagger and menacing villainy of his recent hits, he delivers a deeply vulnerable, understated performance. He plays Samar with a mix of arrogance, confusion, and raw helplessness, proving his immense range.
- Sanya Malhotra anchors her screen time with her trademark reliability, turning in a grounded and impactful performance.
- Saba Azad and Sapna Pabbi excel in their respective roles, bringing genuine nuance to characters that could have easily been sidelined.
- Jitendra Joshi is an absolute scene-stealer, commanding your attention every single time he steps into the frame.
- Indrajith Sukumaran and Raj B Shetty are absolute show stealers with their raw acting.
Final Verdict:
Bandar is an unsettling, morally complex thriller that refuses to spoon-feed its audience. It isn’t a comfortable watch, nor does it try to be. While the sluggish pacing in the second half prevents it from being an absolute masterpiece, it is worth a watch for Bobby Deol’s spectacular acting reinvention and Anurag Kashyap’s gritty, thought-provoking storytelling.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of Pinkvilla. No statement in this article is intended to defame, harm, or malign any individual or entity.
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Kathy Hilton will no longer be the grand marshal of West Hollywood’s pride parade.
The city and WeHo Pride on Wednesday released a joint statement, announcing that “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” star would no longer serve as the Grand Marshal Icon for the 2026 WeHo Pride Parade. The event is scheduled for Sunday.
“After thoughtful discussions, the City of West Hollywood, the WeHo Pride production team, and Kathy Hilton have determined that the 2026 WeHo Pride Parade will not designate a Grand Marshal Icon honoree,” read the statement.
The decision comes less than a week after Hilton was announced. That May 28 announcement was met with swift backlash from the LGBTQ+ community and allies, who called out Hilton’s ties to President Trump and alleged MAGA-leaning politics. Critics also cited accusations that the socialite had used a homophobic slur while on a trip with other cast members of “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” an action she has previously denied.
In their joint statement, West Hollywood and the WeHo Pride team expressed their appreciation for “the respectful and sincere dialogue” around both the event and the “role and significance” of Pride honorees.
“The City of West Hollywood has always believed that Pride belongs to the community,” the joint statement said. “Since its earliest days, Pride has served as both a celebration and a platform for activism, visibility, resilience, and the ongoing pursuit of equality, dignity, and justice for LGBTQ+ people. … These conversations reflect the passion people have for WeHo Pride and underscore the importance of ensuring that WeHo Pride continues to honor the history, values, and diverse voices of the LGBTQ+ community.”
In a statement, Hilton expressed gratitude for being considered for grand marshal and reaffirmed her commitment to the LGBTQ+ community and causes.
“My reason for wanting to be involved in this year’s WeHo Pride weekend was simple: to celebrate, support, and share in the joy of a community that means a great deal to so many people,” Hilton said. “Pride is, and always will be, about celebrating and uplifting LGBTQ+ voices, experiences, and achievements. … My support for the community and WeHo Pride is unwavering.”
She also mentioned several queer advocacy organizations and events she has supported over the years, including GLAAD, the Elton John AIDS Foundation, the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation, Dr. Mathilde Krim, God’s Love We Deliver and Project Angel Food.
The latest Pride-related dust-up follows the abrupt cancellation of the Long Beach Pride Festival in May. The city’s Pride Parade took place as planned.
Both snafus have occurred as conservative politicians and advocates continue to attack LGBTQ+ rights and visibility nationwide. Some Republican governors have even pushed for conservative alternatives to Pride month festivities. A recent Gallup poll has found that after years of steady gains, support for marriage equality and same-sex relationships has slipped, particularly among Republicans.
Movie Reviews
Movie Review: Travolta’s “Propeller: One-Way Night Coach” is One for the Ages — All Ages
Back in the good ol’days — the ’90s — John Travolta would love to get off the topic of “Michael,” “Pulp Fiction” or “Get Shorty” in interviews with film journalists like me and regale us with how utterly besotted he had been with his first flying experience, how that drove his passion for piloting and buying planes and airfield-adjacent luxury houses.
He didn’t even seem to mind having to move house when this or that development balked at him flying his Boeing 707 out of there on the way to locations.
Travolta would tell any journalist who asked that he was writing a kid-friendly book, “Propeller: One Way Night Coach,” based on his first flights as a child in old propeller driven airliners — cheap red-eye overnight treks with too many connections for your average jet age traveller to tolerate.
I remember picking up the book when it came out later in the ’90s — at an airport gift shop — and thinking “Well, that’s as cute as I figured.”
And now, decades later and trapped in the B-movie hell of his post “Gotti” career, Travolta’s turned that cute book into the most delightful, fanciful and colorful bon bon of a movie.
“One Way Night Coach” is a child’s fantasy of flight and flying the way it used to be — with pristine, uncrowded, futuristic airports, an early ’60s era of jets and prop planes with over-uniformed stewardesses in white gloves, the days “Back before every Joe Sweatsock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham,” as Sideshow Bob memorably sneered on “The Simpsons’.”
It’s a fictionalized account of Travolta’s childhood about an only child (at least two Travolta siblings have bit parts in this movie) of a never-made-it/never-will actress/single-mom (Kelly Eviston-Quinnett) who indulges her aviation-obsessed eight-year-old with a cheap cross-country overnight flight.
Little Jeff (Clark Shotwell) will revel in almost every Idlewild to Pittsburgh to Dayton to Chicago to Kansas City to Denver and Los Angeles minute. He strolls into the cockpit to meet pilots, charms the stewardesses and checks out the sleeping bunks on the TWA Lockheed Super Constellation, loving even the delays if not the Chicken Cordon Bleu he’s offered on legs of the journey that offer a meal.
And as he’s an observant child, he comments (Travolta narrates) on his 50ish mother’s vamping and posing, her choice of cigarettes (Newports) and drinks, the solo traveling men whose attention she pursues and earns.
“I was her best audience,” adult Jeff remembers of the mother who’d read him plays as bedtime stories and delusionally hopes that this trip to Los Angeles might be her “big break” even though she’s pushing 50.
“Hollywood called,” she’d explain about their overnight cheap flight arrangements to ticket agents and crew. “They told me to take the next flight!”
At every turn, Jeff meets or sees kindness — stewardesses who indulge his many questions and bump them up to first class on the mostly-empty planes, a captain who fixes his toy model of a Constellation, a mentally ill flyer who flips out but is calmed by a flight attendant who isn’t overworked and frazzled in jet-powered tin-can jammed with Joe and Jane Sweatsocks who think nothing of traveling in their pajamas.
Normally, I cringe at pictures this reliant on voice-over narration. I recoil from stars who populate their picture with Sandler etc. offspring. But “Propeller” is unfailingly sweet and never cloying.
Sure, it’s fictionalized. But if you’ve followed Travolta’s life and career, a lot of him is in this — his raptoruous engagement with flying, an indulged child who developed a taste for fine food and creature comforts, a mother who was his guiding star as an actor.
I get why there are less adoring reviews than mine floating around “Propeller.” It’s unfailingly sweet. Mom’s man-hunting is seriously dated. This TWA tale is decorated with Gershwin’s majestic “Rhapsody in Blue” — United Airlines’ signature tune. And Travolta’s been around long enough for recent generations to come up and not feel a connection to the “Saturday Night Fever/Get Shorty” star whose career has fallen off and life has been visited by too much tragedy.
But I’d hate to be seated next to anybody who doesn’t appreciate this adorable, pristine and nearly perfect aviation fantasy on any flight, much less an overnight one.
Rating: TV-PG
Cast: Clark Shotwell, Kelly Eviston-Quinnett, Ellen Travolta, Ella Beau Travolta, Olga Hoffmann and John Travolta.
Credits: Scripted and directed by John Travolta, based on his book. An Apple TV+ release.
Running time: 1:01
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