True Story is based on the book True Story, which is itself based on a true story, so there is a lot of truth knocking about, I guess you could say, but absolutely none of it is at all interesting. It sounds as if it will be fascinating, as it’s about the disgraced New York Times reporter Mike Finkel’s relationship with Christian Longo, a man accused of murdering his wife and three children, but it goes absolutely nowhere. At one stage someone says to Finkel about Longo, ‘He doesn’t deserve to have his story told,’ to which Finkel replies, ‘Everyone deserves to have their story told,’ to which I would have said, had I been asked, ‘None of you deserves to have your story told. Now, all of you, go away and behave.’
This is a first film directed by Rupert Goold, the highly acclaimed British theatre director, but it shows surprisingly scant visual flair, as it relies too heavily on redundant flashbacks that add nothing to the story, and redundant scenes — why, as one character was typing at his laptop, was another shown playing the piano? It kicks off with a teddy falling in slo-mo to signify children have been slain (if it’s not a teddy, it is usually a doll). But rather than capturing a falling teddy — or a doll, had it been a doll — someone on this film might have better asked, ‘What’s in this for the audience? Why are we making this? Why, why, why?’
It opens while Finkel (Jonah Hill) is still at the New York Times. He is one of their star magazine writers. ‘You’ve had nine covers in three years,’ says his girlfriend Jill (Felicity Jones) admiringly, although my first thought was, ‘They hardly overwork them there.
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