P
Phantom
Guest
'Edward R. Murrow'
In "The Edward R. Murrow Collection," an earnest recap of an earnest career, Murrow first becomes a household name by chronicling London air raids as if they were stanzas in an epic poem. (Antiaircraft fire in the night sky looks like white rice spilling on black velvet, he intoned over the radio.)
When his favored medium faltered, Murrow was dragged into the new world of television, and the camera loved him more than he loved it. This four-disc set depicts the newsman's struggle to come to terms with reporting via what was then called "a 1,000-pound pencil." As he ages, Murrow comes off as a journalistic warhorse who does a lot of kicking when confined to a stable, and the CBS founder William S. Paley turns from protector to nemesis. (You're supposed to side with Murrow, but I somehow didn't.)
The discs also show Murrow pioneering chatty celebrity-at-home segments and preachy tales of migrant laborers. Among many solemn paeans, you'll see Diane Sawyer in 1980's sherbet frocks and David Brinkley looking older than his years, no matter the decade. Leave it to Murrow's ambitious protégé, Eric Sevareid, to interrupt this media seminar with some real news. Murrow, he confides, had a few human failings: vanity, sanctimony, smoking.
In "The Edward R. Murrow Collection," an earnest recap of an earnest career, Murrow first becomes a household name by chronicling London air raids as if they were stanzas in an epic poem. (Antiaircraft fire in the night sky looks like white rice spilling on black velvet, he intoned over the radio.)
When his favored medium faltered, Murrow was dragged into the new world of television, and the camera loved him more than he loved it. This four-disc set depicts the newsman's struggle to come to terms with reporting via what was then called "a 1,000-pound pencil." As he ages, Murrow comes off as a journalistic warhorse who does a lot of kicking when confined to a stable, and the CBS founder William S. Paley turns from protector to nemesis. (You're supposed to side with Murrow, but I somehow didn't.)
The discs also show Murrow pioneering chatty celebrity-at-home segments and preachy tales of migrant laborers. Among many solemn paeans, you'll see Diane Sawyer in 1980's sherbet frocks and David Brinkley looking older than his years, no matter the decade. Leave it to Murrow's ambitious protégé, Eric Sevareid, to interrupt this media seminar with some real news. Murrow, he confides, had a few human failings: vanity, sanctimony, smoking.