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Shattered Glass

What if what you didn't notice was what saved you?

Shattered Glass is the story of a guy who says exactly what he thinks the people around him want to hear to no benefit beyond his own power. It’s a classic example of what is sometimes called a ‘middlebrow’ movies which is one of those slang terms with a very vague definition that, nonetheless, is very helpful – in my mind, the best definition is a movie that is completely unambitious in style and laser-focused on ambitious content. This movie does nothing to draw attention to its visuals, its set design, or its acting – it’s simply an honest presentation of a very clear thematic concept and very clear characters, and it trusts that the story of a guy lying his ass off and getting caught will inherently be satisfying.

My favourite scene in the whole thing actually comes right around the start. Stephen Glass (Hayden Christiansen) has been hired by Michael Kelly (Hank Azaria) for The New Republic, and he quickly becomes popular for his relentless charm; he has a strong sensitivity to other people’s emotions and a relentless approach to reassuring people, which the other characters immediately like (personally, I find him aggressively needy from the jump, but then the movie isn’t about me).

The scene where he first meets Charles (Peter Sarsgaard) is the one that fascinates me. Charles will go on to be the one who leads the investigation into Stephen’s falsified news stories (after an initial alert from reporter Adam Penenberg (Steve Zahn), more on this in a second); up to this point, he’s known amongst the other staff for being cold and distant. Every person Stephen has met up to this point has found his aggressive approach charming; Charles comes off here as totally uninterested – not insulting or dismissive, but beyond that, not even registering what he’s doing.

This is what fascinates me about this scene – on paper, it should be uninteresting, because it’s one guy making small talk and the other absolutely not responding. But this comes in a story, and at a specific point – echoing out into the whole narrative. It suggests that, if there is a specific quality of character that led to Stephen’s unmasking, it’s Charles’s coldness; it’s not that he’s antagonistic to Stephen’s weird neediness, it’s that he doesn’t give a shit one way or the other, and it’s suggested that he’ll see Stephen more clear-eyed because he has no emotion to bother him in the first place.

You definitely see this in the scene at the other end of the movie that caps off their relationship, where Stephen desperately begs Charles for a ride to the airport, claiming he doesn’t know what he’ll do to himself; this time, Charles fully recognizes what he’s doing, and he’s unmoved by superficial demonstrations of emotions because now he spots the motivation driving them, and he refuses to give Stephen any kind of compromise or leverage. 

Beloved Magpie Dave Shutton has argued that Charles is still heavily indicted by the film; he’s still part of the system that allowed Stephen to rise and flourish for so long (and Chuck says so himself). It’s interesting, because he’s not wrong – if I look at this as a literal depiction of action (and this did very much happen), it’s pretty embarrassing for all involved. As a movie, though – as a depiction of extreme action – it’s important and necessary. Stories and especially movies and especially Hollywood are infamous for focusing on individuals over systems, but I think that’s their strength; systems are vitally important, but we want emotional reasons to do what it is we do, and it’s nice to have an exaggeration of what we’re supposed to be doing every day.