Broadway has suddenly exploded with passion, intelligence and integrity. It’s been 20 years since Good Night, and Good Luck, George Clooney’s sensational procedural on political corruption in Washington D.C. during the right-wing assault on the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution during the plague of McCarthyism and the threats to the admirable journalists who tried to cover it truthfully. Clooney was showered with praise from fans and critics alike and Oscar-nominated for directing the hit film, which starred David Straithairn as veteran broadcast journalist and icon Edward R. Murrow. Well, it’s back. This time, in the form of a gallant stage transfer. Crowds paying astronomical prices for rare, hard-to-get tickets are packing Broadway’s Winter Garden Theatre to see the new stage adaptation of Good Night, and Good Luck, co-written by Clooney and his writing partner Grant Heslov, and, as an extra box-office whammy, starring Clooney himself in the marathon role of the legendary Murrow. Clooney isn’t as polished as Straithairn, and he lacks the same range as an actor, but in spite of his lack of experience onstage, he does just fine, and his subtlety shows a remarkable improvement over his work in films. Timely and timeless, the play has the same astonishing impact as the film. As the chaos in today’s toxic political hell forces the world to shake with fear while brave journalists risk constant unemployment trying to sort out the confusion of a polarized country for an eager public clamoring for clarity and logic, saying the time for Good Night, and Good Luck is more relevant than ever is like saying snow falls in the month of January.
The play opens on a night in 1958 when Murrow is being toasted for his accomplishments as a crusading broadcaster dedicated to the belief that television should live up to its potential as a reliable source for education and information instead of merely settling for entertainment value inherent in game shows, escapist sit-coms and action thrillers. To illustrate, the scene shifts to some of the controversial past topics he and his tireless producer Fred Friendly (an unflagging Glenn Fleshler) and nervous director Don Hewitt (Will Dagger) pursued on their weekly CBS (PARA) newsmagazine show See It Now, focusing on such juicy subjects as the plight of an Air Force executive wrongly accused of being a “pinko” Commie, the tortured family of another victim, and the relentless career destruction of beloved friend, colleague and Murrow protege Doc Hollenbeck (wonderfully, sympathetically played by the often underestimated Clark Gregg)—driven to his death by Wisconsin’s despicable, publicity-seeking junior senator, the aforementioned Joe McCarthy, who needs no help from an edgy script to make himself the film’s most hateful character. The actors excel through their acting skills, but McCarthy steals every scene by playing himself—in scenes culled from reality, archival footage and TV news coverage. The camera doesn’t lie.
Up to a point, Murrow and his colleagues were supported, artistically and financially, by CBS president William F. Paley (a bland Paul Gross), but when McCarthy accepted an invitation to appear in person on the show in self-defense, falsely accusing Murrow of being on the Communist payroll himself in the 1930s, CBS lost Alcoa as a valuable sponsor, the tables turned, and so did Paley. Murrow’s fact-checkers uncover a barrel of lies, which the liberal press still does today, but Paley made the fear of lost ratings a bigger priority than loyalty to the reputation of a treasured newscaster. Shocking the television industry to the core, Murrow’s boss canceled See It Now and reduced his crusading star’s network airplay from a weekly prime-time slot on Tuesday nights to a handful of one-hour episodes on Sunday afternoon. Murrow lost one of the most exalted positions in TV news and, in the end, found himself demoted to the kind of demeaning “leftover” jobs he personally detested, such as interviewing Liberace on Person to Person.
He died shortly after, not exactly disgraced but hugely diminished. The play catalogs the facts soberly, exactly as they happened, including the even sadder self-destruction of Senator McCarthy. This is a lot of content for a 90-minute play with no disruptive intermission, and for the most part, it hits the target with laser force and accuracy. The effect is a documentary-like cautionary tale that shows what happens when a Democracy dozes and how it could happen again if a new, different and more concentrated demagogue creeps in and takes over. Too late. A new political force has already arrived on Pennsylvania Avenue and although Clooney’s play never mentions him by name, the message is cloudlessly clear: Wake up and fight back, or we’ll be heading for Doomsday.
The problems inherent in translating that message to a different medium are glaring. What does not disappoint is the colossal set by the brilliant designer Scott Pask that recreates the now-defunct old CBS broadcast center in Grand Central Station, replete with offices, bullpens, control rooms, editing labs and hot hanging halogen studio lights that illuminate the action below. If all else fails, the production makes you feel you are really in the middle of the turbulence necessary to get 30 minutes of the news on the air. But in the center of it all, there is too much of the star blown up in black and white closeups on big TV screens and not much of his face, delivering the dramatic monologues with his face obscured and his delivery too subtle to register beyond the first two rows. With his boyish charm and low-key charm, I never doubted George Clooney would make the cut from supporting TV roles to movie stardom. He couldn’t act, but constant employment led to so many bigger assignments that he was granted the infrequent privilege of learning on the job. With the benefit of star status it is now fit and proper for him to crave the respect and recognition that accompany solid acceptance on the Broadway proscenium. His new position is, therefore, justified. With new wrinkles and dyed black hair, an iconic movie star chain smokes his way through the parallels between film and live theatre on firm footing. David Cromer directs with admirable self-assurance, but there’s too much going on and nothing intimate to see. Subplots disappear like smoke rings before they’re fully formed. An excellent cast has no time to establish more than a hit of characterization. Clooney’s monologues are viewed in big-screen blowups instead of staged as center-stage showstoppers. This, I suspect, is not what his fans are paying just short of $1,000 per ticket to see.
Still, Good Night, and Good Luck (Edward R. Murrow’s old sign-offs on TV shows) and George Clooney’s new welcome to Broadway stardom are must-sees of the current season.
Good Night, and Good Luck | 1hr 40mins. No intermission. | Winter Garden Theatre | Last Show: Sun, June 8, 2025 | 1634 Broadway | 212-239-6200 | Buy Tickets Here
