Set during the fateful 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich, September 5 details the harrowing hours inside ABC Sports newsroom as broadcasters report live on militant Palestinian group Black September’s abduction of the Israeli Olympic team. Originally intended to be told from multiple perspectives, the film’s narrative narrowed to the newsroom when writer/director Tim Fehlbaum interviewed accomplished sports media executive Geoffrey Mason about that critical day.
Based on the true story, Paramount Pictures’ September 5 details what happened behind the scenes as ambitious young producer Geoff (John Magaro) helmed the live coverage with the support of TV executive Roone Arledge (Peter Sarsgaard), German interpreter Marianne (Leonie Benesch), and mentor Marvin Bader (Ben Chaplin). As vice president of operations for ABC during the network’s Olympic broadcast heyday, Bader oversaw production operations, ultimately working on 10 Olympic games between 1968 and 1992. Following Bader’s passing in 2012, Disney CEO Bob Iger recalled, “Marvin Bader was a truly unique, unforgettable person.” As the moral compass of Fehlbaum’s film, Bader is played by the equally unforgettable Ben Chaplin.
Chaplin made his big screen debut in James Ivory’s 1993 drama, The Remains of the Day, and became a leading man with the 1996 comedy The Truth About Cats & Dogs. The English actor went on to develop a versatile career through compelling performances in period pieces like Washington Square and in the thrillers Birthday Girl and Murder by Numbers. His screen work has led to collaborations with the likes of Terrence Malick (The Thin Red Line, The New World) and Francis Ford Coppola (Twixt). Boxoffice Pro caught up with Chaplin at the Denver Film Festival—where he was honored with the festival’s Excellence in Acting award—to discuss September 5 and cinema’s power to retell the past in order to inform the present.
Marvin Bader grounds the film in reason. As head of operations, do you think he had the ability to see the bigger picture, whereas his colleagues may have been a little more laser focused?
He was a troubleshooter, an organizer, and a kind of groundbreaking logistics man in live events. Apparently he was flawless at it. Don Ohlmeyer, a long-time producer-director at ABC Sports, said something like, “There was no one to blame after a Marvin Bader event, only people to thank.” I didn’t speak to Tim Fehlbaum about this during shooting, but I have spoken to him about it since. I asked, “Did you deliberately write Marvin like that?” Tim said, “Well he just seemed like the right guy. He wasn’t involved in the actual technical broadcast aspect, as Geoff Mason was.”
I think because of his job as a troubleshooter, it stands to reason that he would be the one to say, “Hang on a minute.” Everything I hear about him as a person seems to be that he was incredibly warm, empathetic, kind, and loved by the people who work for him. I think that Tim and [co-writer] Moritz [Binder] wrote everything I managed to find out about him. They wrote a very good, good portrayal of him. Any quotes about him that I read, Bob Iger being an important one, were consistent in saying that he was just a really good egg, although irascible and grumpy at times.
What was your research process like? There was a whole world to understand in the confines of this 1972 Olympic news studio. That specific period of time in media coverage feels very authentic.
I came on board the film much later than John [Magaro] and Peter [Sarsgaard]. They were both attached. I got the script, and I really liked it and loved the cast. Then I Zoomed with Tim, who was so persuasive and convincing. It is so well-researched and passionate. It was an absolute no-brainer; I was very grateful to be asked to be in it. My on-ramp was quite short, so I read everything I could find about Marvin Bader, basically. As a sort of fortunate sidebar, one of my girlfriend’s first-ever bosses is now married to a guy called Al Berman, a legend in news who was Dan Rather’s producer on the ground for years. He created the live reveal; he’s responsible for that. He did season after season of Survivor. He also produced the Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan. He was a perfect marriage of news and sports.
I had a chat with him, and it wasn’t very long, but it was such a great “in.” He is still so passionate about what he does. It very much chimed with what I read about Marvin Bader. Bader said, which I find equally sad and equally beautiful, “I had the best job in the world. There was no better job. I’m sorry I retired.” [Laughs,] which I find very touching. Al, who isn’t retired, spoke exactly the same way. I just thought, I kind of know who this is, but it was such a good script that a lot of that work is done for you. Equally, Tim was obsessed with the studio and rebuilding it. It didn’t just look good, it functioned. It was incredible. There was no acting required in terms of being in the studio. The production designer, Julian [Wagner], was superb. The DP Markus [Förderer] too; really top-notch people made this world easy for us to inhabit. I mean, there was no choice but to inhabit it—you were in it. I just happen to be old enough to practically remember it [laughs.]
What is the experience like for you as an actor, shooting on a more immersive set?
It makes it easier. It’s definitely a little more taxing, too. Every actor has a different way of doing it, but you have to conserve energy in a very small space. You find yourself being very still and almost finding a peaceful place within yourself between takes. We shot solidly; we were always shooting. There were always two cameras. It was intense and it was claustrophobic, but I was with a great cast of really talented, really professional but also fun people. That gets you through the day, if you like, but in terms of the intensity of it—you just have to make sure you have a reserve of energy. It’s not a marathon, it’s like 100 sprints a day.
When I was younger, I was like a puppy on Ritalin or something, but now I’m definitely still and quieter between takes. I mean Peter, John, and I were having a giggle as well. The more intense a story is, in a way, the more you have to let out steam together in between. Otherwise you probably go a little bit mad, though we went a bit mad anyway. One-location movies always get a little bit mad; the days start bleeding into one. I think in this case, that just helped the movie. It has an almost submarine movie feel about it.
It feels like a documentary crew trapped in that space covering the ABC News team.
That’s how they shot it. You really weren’t aware of the cameras. I mean, you were incredibly aware of them when they were right in your face, but you got so used to rolling all the time with two cameras popping up. A lot of the time you didn’t know whether it was on you or not. It was kind of seamless in that way. The style of shooting was very much vérité, guerrilla filmmaking. I love that. As an actor, you’d have to be mad not to like that. I don’t remember having a mark to hit, you know? You get so used to marks, you don’t notice them much, but when you don’t have them, you almost don’t know what to do with the freedom.
Although this is a period film, there are a lot of strong parallels to our world today; anyone can essentially go live now and broadcast an event on a global scale.
It was a Rubicon moment, wasn’t it? A Pandora’s box moment, really, which I think is why the film is pertinent, particularly salient, and relevant. I knew it was a good script, and with the cast, the director, and the team that we had, I thought it definitely had a very good chance of being a good movie. What I didn’t expect when I saw it, was how relevant I found it. You tend to think of things in terms of character when you’re first considering doing something; I do anyway. Can I play it? What would I bring into it? It was a very precise, very disciplined script. The film is also that, but I was a little blown away by how relevant it is today. What do we do now? We’ve had the technology to be “live” for 50 years now. What have we learned? There’s a delay in all live television; however, everybody can broadcast from the phones in their pockets. I don’t quite know what we do. I think it’s possibly the most important question of our time.
It blurs the lines, doesn’t it? In an age of information, it’s hard to hold that information accountable with the same kind of responsibility for accuracy and verified truth.
Exactly—“Here are my facts. How are yours doing?” It’s like the Kellyanne Conway quote, “alternative facts.” I’ve been shivering since I heard that. It feels like we’re in [George Orwell’s] 1984, but we’ve been in it for a while. I don’t know what the answer is, but I think it’s an urgent question.
The film also poses questions surrounding storytelling and history—who is telling the story and whose story is being told? As a storyteller, what were some of the things that you were perhaps wrestling with throughout this project, or are wrestling with now, looking back on it?
I think America led the way on this, compared to England, although we caught up rapidly, where the news readers frame [stories] in a certain way in order to get you to watch it. I mean, it’s been that way since the Forum, but there is a sort of manipulative framing of things. Though if someone points a camera at something, it’s already an angle, isn’t it? I try to read responsibly sourced journalism. It’s not always accurate, but I think at least if you’re reading from an outlet that actually does abide by journalistic ethics, surely it’s got a better chance.
The technology is brand new, just as when the [technology of the] film was contemporaneous. They hadn’t developed the skills or the knowledge of how to mitigate for unseen or unintended consequences. I think we’re exactly at that point, but probably to the power of three right now. I suppose if there’s something good that can come from it, it’s to show that we have to question it. Don’t take what you read for granted as fact or verbatim.
We have art to help raise those questions too.
Well, culture feels like a safer place to live right now, doesn’t it? I’ve been spending more time with it: sport and culture, those are my two safe rooms.
Given the confined, intimate, and very tense nature of this story, how does it feel to know that audiences will be transported and asked to consider these questions in the singular experience of a theater?
I get a feeling of pride that I could do something that raises important questions and also makes people feel something, whether that feeling is comfortable or uncomfortable. Just like art, any reaction is a good reaction. I think discomfort is a very important emotion when watching films, theater, and art. We all want to feel comfortable sometimes, and that’s why we watch certain things, but I think you tend to get a little bit more across when people are taken slightly off-center.
Growing up, what films challenged you or provoked a question?
My dad used to let me watch anything as long as I was quiet, which wasn’t easy for me, but I was like a church mouse. As a result of that, films became almost like a mainline into my brain, because I was forced to be very attentive and quiet. I’ve always had a very intense relationship with them from a very early age. The original All Quiet on the Western Front: I remember the first time I saw that.
I’m only saying this because it’s true, not because I ended up working with Terrence Malick a few times, but Badlands as well. I saw it once when I was about 12. Of course we didn’t have VCRs or anything, but I was obsessed with it. I don’t know why. I still am, to a certain degree. I don’t think a film like that had been made before. I think I understand it much better now, but I’m curious as to why a 12-year-old liked it so much. [Malick] was empathizing with this terrible event, but telling it without any judgment on these people. That’s just the genius of Terry Malick. On The Thin Red Line, I remember asking Terry why he wanted to make a war film. And he said, “Well, if war is the worst man can do, what good can come from it?” I think maybe that’s what film can do.
That’s the power of art, isn’t it?
Yeah, I don’t think people realize how powerful it is.
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