The Post ★★

I read a book about Kay Graham twenty years ago and was struck by how interesting and strong she was.

Well, I guess I got it all wrong. Leave the telling to Spielberg and Kay couldn't decide between two kinds of tea towels without consulting three men first.

She couldn't walk into her first boardroom meeting with courage and strength; instead she faced the suits and testosterone like an 6 year old dragging her blankie and hanging on to her teddy-bear adviser for dear life. She couldn't risk her entire life and legacy and the future of her children with considered deliberation. No, instead a panic stricken Kay had to consult all the men in the room and when they couldn't agree she had to wing it, make an impulsive decision and go to bed or hang up the phone as though it were a hot potato.

She had to be portrayed like a debutante socialite who was given *real* responsibility for the first time in her life. No doubt because Spielberg wanted his violin-y Spielberg moment near the end where the cowering housewife could finally tell the bad guy where to shove it.

So sad.

And that's not the least of it. The first two thirds of the film are just one big jumble of indistinguishable characters with no direction as to who is who and who is doing what. It is one huge incoherent mess of a film that slows down a bit in the last third just enough to display stereotypical newspaper scenes like pushing a button and seeing the newspapers being printed, one after another. Boy, haven't seen *that* one before.

I would definitely recommend everyone pass on this one unless one wants the Coles Notes of how The Washington Post under Kay Graham put it's future at risk to tell the story, begun by the New York TImes, of the lies and cover-ups maintained by several governments with regards to the Vietnam War.

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