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On a London back street, a frightened young man is shot to death
behind a dumpster. In a cheap cafe, a hard-eyed teenage girl waits, an expensive metal
briefcase resting on the floor at her feet. In the halls of Parliament, a rising
politician breaks down on camera after learning about the death of his political
researcher beneath the wheels of a train on the London Underground. The first half hour of
Paul Abbott's political thriller, State of Play, firmly hooks the viewer into
following the twists and turns of its plot through all six of its smart, unpredictable,
and fast-moving episodes.
John Simm plays Cal McCaffrey, an investigative journalist and an
ex-campaign manager for the MP whose relationship with the dead researcher has come under
scrutiny. Did Sonia Baker fall onto the tracks? Was it suicide? Murder? And why, on the
morning of both their deaths, did she receive a brief phone call from Kelvin Stagg, the
boy killed in what is presumed to have been a drug related shooting?
This is more than just another sordid domestic scandal, and McCaffrey
and several of his colleagues at The Herald, (including the youthful, driven
reporter Della Smith, played by Kelly MacDonald), set out in pursuit of the answers. It's
a world of high-profile politics and journalism where the normal rules of personal
interaction do not apply. Tape recorders are concealed in every pocket and absolutely
nobody can be trusted to either tell the truth or respect a confidence.
If there's a drawback to State of Play's combination of witty writing
and smart performances, it's that there are very few moments where the viewer is going to
feel comfortable about going into the kitchen for a coke and a sandwich. Unexpected
revelations lurk around each corner, and some of the performances are so good it's hard to
tear your eyes away. David Morrissey plays Stephen Collins, the adulterous MP, as the kind
of pudgily handsome man who lies plausibly then slides without embarrassment into the
truth only when it's plain the lies aren't working. Bill Nighy is The Herald's
flamboyant editor, a lean patrician who lapses back into his working class accent when it
suits him. Marc Warren's turn as the tacky PR wannabe Dominic Foy stands out not only
because Warren beautifully captures his sweaty desperation, but because Foy is almost the
only character in the film who's not a talented liar. Watching him getting effortlessly
batted around by the smooth young sharks circling him in search of the truth is almost
painful.
Like any well-made political thriller, State of Play is
believable enough to raise the question of where human consequences fit in when it comes
to affairs of state and the pursuit of the truth. Some of the characters see their quest
as a game where they can show off their skill and advance their careers. When they are
touched personally, suddenly they're no longer "playing." McCaffrey's abilities
as a reporter are undermined by his friendship with Collins and when Della Smith realizes
she's in personal danger she changes quickly from a hard-edged journalist to a frightened
and vulnerable girl. Occasional glimpses of the anguished, angry families of Kelvin Stagg
and Sonia Baker are reminders of just how deadly it can be to play "games" where
the stakes are too high.
- Pamela Troy
