Review of The Fifth Estate (2013) by Will W — 26 Oct 2013

The Fifth Estate, whilst ostensibly about the rise and fall of Wikileaks and Julian Assange, is really a film about power, obssession and the nature of truth; and, at that, a film elevated by sterling performances.

While Benedict Cumberbatch may take top billing as the enigmatic Assange, the emotional arc takes place through the lens of his co-conspirator Daniel Berg, portrayed with earnest hope and bitter disillusionment by Daniel Bruhl. Initially pulled into Assange's hypnotic web of crusades against the man, Bruhl effortlessly captures the slow disintegration of Berg's hope and belief, as he watches the collapse of everything he believed about Assange. In identifying the audience with Berg's perspective, director Bill Condon lithely captures in a microcosm the sense of initial hope from those who believed in the alleged principles of Wikileaks, and then our crushing, funereal sense of cynicism as the ugliness under the shiny veneer of Julian Assange slowly but brutally became evident.

Cumberbatch is in a bit of a purple "he who can do no wrong" patch at the moment. From his note perfect essaying of the intractable Aussie, it's easy to see why. His transformation from inspiring, courageous and resourceful to grimy, manipulative tyrant is mesmerising. It's a difficult arc to pull off, but Cumberbatch makes it look effortless. There is a moment near the end that is astonishing, as Cumberbatch, with breathtaking economy of movement and expression, wordlessly conveys the fear and paranoia of a man built on secrets and lies, whose walls and security have just come crashing down around him.

The costume design here is clever. Taking Assange from greasy, lank and long-haired to sleek, suited and perfectly coiffured as he translates from inspirational to sleazy subtly catches the connection with power and vacuosity. The palette of the film recalls a washed out techno-noir (the green tinges owe quite a bit to The Matrix), emphasising that in this world of high principles and lofty rhetoric, the players guarding the truth are corrupt to a man. The politicians and the media are merely flipsides of the same coin; do the high-minded Guardian journalists give up an exclusive when they realise Assange can't be relied on to protect innocent people's identities? Do they hell. It isn't for nothing either, that in the final vignette, Assange sounds exactly like those he has previously exposed.

We are left with the hollow vacuum of 21st century society, a power orgy in which the estates of power and distribution are the gangsters, and data and stories are the tommy guns. Where the lives of everyday people are manipulated by the vain and the power-crazed. Where one man can get lost trying to fight for truth - but not the one on the Time magazine covers.