Original subtitles

This story is about Howard Beale, the news anchorman on UBS TV.

in his time, Howard Beale had been a mandarin of television,

the grand old man of news, with a HUT rating of 16 and a 28 audience share.

In 1969, however, his fortunes began to decline.

He fell to a 22 share. The following year his wife died

and he was left a childless widower with an eight rating and a 12 share.

He became morose and isolated, began to drink heavily,

and on September 22nd 1975 he was fired, effective in two weeks.

The news was broken to him by Max Schumacher,

who was the president of the news division at UBS.

The two old friends got properly pissed.

l was at CBS with Ed Murrow in 1951.

Must have been 1950 then. I was NBC, uh, associate producer.

Morning news. I was just a kid, 26 years old.

Anyway...

anyway, they were building the lower level of the George Washington Bridge.

We were doing a remote from there...

and nobody told me!

A minute after 7am I get a call.

"Where the hell are you? You're supposed to be at the George Washington Bridge."

I jump outta bed, throw my raincoat over my pyjamas. I run downstairs.

I run out in the street, hail a cab,

and I say to the cabbie "Take me to the middle of the George Washington Bridge."

And the cabbie turns around and he says...

he says "Don't do it, buddy!"

"You're a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you!"

Didn't I ever tell you that one before?

I'm gonna kill myself.

Oh, shit, Howard.

I'm gonna blow my brains out right on the air,

right in the middle of the seven o'clock news.

You'll get a hell of a rating, I'II guarantee you that. 50 share, easy.

- You think so? - Sure.

We could make a series out of it. Suicide of the Week.

Hell, why limit ourselves? Execution of the Week.

Terrorist of the Week!

I love it.

Suicides,

assassinations,

mad bombers,

Mafia hit men,

automobile smash-ups...

The Death Hour.

Great Sunday night show for the whole family.

We'll wipe that fuckin' Disney right off the air.

- Let's do the Lennon deportation in three. - It strong enough to bump?

In one, then. I'll do a lead on Sarah Jane Moore to May Berry in San Francisco.

- Film I saw was the chief of detectives. - I think we've got about, uh...

ten seconds on the shooting itself.

The whole thing is 1.25.

- Where does that come out? - About 4.50.

- Are we using Squeaky Fromme? - Let's do that in two.

Squeaky. Ford at the airport. Bounce.

You using a map going into San Francisco?

Um, I'd prefer news pics.

All right. What have we got left?

Gun control, Patty Hearst affidavit, guerillas in Chad, OPEC, Indiana.

- Hello, Howard. - Hi. Hi, Dave.

- Don't forget, we're not using 16. - Mm-hm.

All right.

The first attempt on President Ford's life was 18 days ago,

and again yesterday in San Francisco. In spite of the two attempts,

Mr Ford says he will not become a prisoner of the Oval Office,

a hostage of would-be assassins.

The American people are good people.

Democrats, independents, Republicans and others.

Under no circumstances will I,

and I hope no others,

capitulate to those that want to undercut

what's all good in America.

Two, cue Howard.

I would like, at this point, to announce that I will be retiring from this programme

in two weeks' time because of poor ratings.

Since this show was the only thing I had going for me in my life,

- l have decided to kill myself. - So, what'd she say?

I'm going to blow my brains out, right on this programme, a week from today.

- Ten seconds to commercial. - So tune in next Tuesday.

That should give the public-relations people a week to promote the show.

We ought to get a hell of a rating out of that. A 50 share, easy.

- Listen, uh, did you hear that? - What was that about?

Howard just said he was going to blow his brains out next Tuesday.

- What? - Didn't you hear?

What's wrong now?

Howard just said he was going to kill himself next Tuesday.

What do you mean, Howard said he's gonna kill himself next Tuesday?

He was supposed to do a tag on...

He said "Tune in next Tuesday. I'm gonna shoot myself."

- What the hell's going on? - He just said he'd blow his brains out.

- What the fuck's going on? - They said "What the fuck is going on?"

- I can't hear you. - Turn the studio mike on.

- We're back on in 11 seconds. - Ten seconds.

- What are you doing? Have you flipped? - I think we'd better get him off.

- Get him off! - What's the matter?

Turn the sound off, you stupid son of a bitch. He's goin' out live.

- We're in a lot of fucking trouble here. - This is the dumbest thing I've ever seen.

Lou, can't we clear out that downstairs lobby?

- How am I going to clear 'em out? - Every TV station in the city.

- Anything Iitigable? - Not so far.

- Frank Hackett just walked in. - Nelson in there?

He's with Wheeler. 900 fucking phone calls about the foul language.

- Shit! - What page are you puttin' it on?

- Hackett just walked in. - ABC want the tape.

Tell 'em to go fuck 'emselves, and that goes for you too, Marty.

- You're off the air as of now. - He wants to talk to you.

- Who's replacing Beale? - We're flying Snowden up.

All right, everybody. Let's see how the other networks handle this.

- Ten o'clock news opened with it. - Good evening.

- Howard Beale, one of television's… - They'll all make it their lead.

Howard Beale interrupted his programme to announce he was going to kill himself.

An unusual thing happened at one of our sister networks, UBS, this evening.

How are we handling it?

Halloway's going to make a statement after the show

that Howard's been under great personal stress, etc.

I'll call you back. All right, we've got a stockholders' meeting tomorrow

at which we're gonna announce the restructuring plan.

I don't want this grotesque incident to interfere with it.

I'll suggest Mr Ruddy open with a short statement washing this whole thing off.

Max, you'd better have answers for those nuts at the stockholders' meeting.

Mr Beale has been under great professional and personal strain.

I've got some goddamn surprises for you too.

I've had it up to here with your cruddy division and its annual $33 million deficit!

You keep your hands off my news division, Frank.

We're responsible to corporate level, not you.

- We'll goddamn well see about that. - All right, take it easy.

How do we get Beale out?

I understand there are at least a hundred reporters in the lobby.

We got a limo at the freight exit.

Howard, you're gonna stay with me at my place. There's bound to be press at yours.

I want Snowden here by noon.

Have Lester cover the CIA hearings, and give the White House to Doris.

You're late for your screening, Max.

Right. OK.

If John Wheeler calls, switch him to projection room seven.

- Sorry, Bill. This Beale business... - It's all right.

- Diana asked if she could sit in on this. - Fine. How's it goin'?

You'll like this better than the stuff I showed you last time.

Max Schumacher.

Oh, goddammit! When, Louise?

Laureen…

Well, did he say anything?

All right. Thank you.

The Communist Party believes that the most pressing political necessity today

is the consolidation of the revolutionary

radical and democratic movements into united fronts.

Harry, Howard Beale left my house about 20 minutes ago. Has he come in yet?

Well, let me know when he arrives, huh?

- That's Laureen Hobbs, isn't it? - Yeah.

This is from a David Susskind thing a while back. I think we can use some of it.

What we're going to see now is something really sensational.

The Flagstaff Independent Bank of Arizona was ripped off last week

by a terrorist group called the Ecumenical Liberation Army.

They took movies of the rip-off while they were ripping it off. Wait till you see it.

That's not the one that kidnapped Patty Hearst?

That's the Symbionese Liberation Army. This is the Ecumenical Liberation Army.

They kidnapped Mary Ann Gifford three weeks ago.

There's a lot of liberation armies in the underground

and a lot of kidnapped heiresses. This is Mary Ann Gifford.

That's the Great Ahmed Khan. He's their leader.

They actually shot this film while they were ripping off the bank?

Wait till you see it. I don't know whether to edit or leave it raw like this.

This is terrific stuff. Where did you get it?

I got everything through Laureen Hobbs. She's my contact for all this stuff.

- Yeah? - I've got Howard on the other line.

Put him on.

Howard, I've got Max on four. Would you pick up?

Listen, Max, I'd like another shot.

- Oh, come on, Howard. - I don't mean the whole show.

I'd just like to come on, make some brief farewell statement

and then turn the show over to Jack Snowden.

l have 11 years at this network, Max. l have some standing in the industry.

I just don't want to go out like a clown. It'll be simple, dignified.

You and Harry can check the copy.

I think it'll take the strain off the show, Max.

- Well, what do you think? - Well, OK, and no booze today, Howard.

No booze.

George, can you come into my office for a minute?

Right.

- Barbara, is Tommy around? - I think so.

I'd like to see the two of you for a moment.

This is Bill Herron from our West Coast Special Programmes Department.

George Bosch, Barbara Schlesinger, Tommy Pellegrino.

I saw footage of a special Bill's doing on the revolutionary underground.

Most of it's tedious - Laureen Hobbs and two fatigue jackets muttering Marxism.

But he's got about eight minutes of a bank robbery that is absolutely sensational.

Authentic stuff - actually shot while the robbery was going on!

You remember the Mary Ann Gifford kidnapping?

It's that bunch of nuts. She's in the movie, shooting machine guns.

This is really terrific footage!

I think we can get a hell of a movie of the week out of it. Maybe even a series.

A series? What are we talking about?

We've got a bunch of hobgoblin radicals called the Ecumenical Liberation Army

who go around taking home movies of themselves robbing banks.

Maybe they'll take movies of themselves kidnapping heiresses,

hijacking 747s, bombing bridges, assassinating ambassadors.

We'd open each week's segment with that authentic footage,

hire a couple of writers to write a story behind that footage, and we got a series.

A series about a bunch of bank-robbing guerillas?

What are we gonna call it? The Mao Tse-tung Hour?

Why not? They've got Strike Force, Task Force, SWAT.

Why not Che Guevara and his own little mod squad?

Look, I sent you all a concept-analysis report yesterday. Did any of you read it?

Well, in a nutshell it said the American people are turning sullen.

They've been clobbered by Vietnam, Watergate, inflation, the Depression.

They've turned off, shot up, fucked themselves limp. Nothing helps.

So this concept-analysis report concludes

the American people want somebody to articulate their rage for them.

I've been telling you since I took this job six months ago that I want angry shows.

I don't want conventional programming.

I want counterculture. I want anti-Establishment.

I don't wanna play butch boss with you people,

but when I took over, this department had the worst programming record in history.

This network hasn't one show in the top 20. This network is an industry joke.

We'd better start putting together one winner for next September.

I want a show developed based on the activities of a terrorist group.

Joseph Stalin and his Merry Band of Bolsheviks.

I want ideas from you people. That is what you're paid for.

And by the way, the next time I send an audience research report around,

you all better read it or I'll sack the fucking lot of you. Is that clear?

I'll be on the coast in four weeks. Will you set up a meeting with Laureen Hobbs?

Sure.

But the business of management is management.

And at the time CCA took control the UBS TV network was foundering,

with less than seven per cent of national television revenues -

most network programmes being sold at station rates.

I am therefore pleased to announce I am submitting to the board a plan

for the coordination of the main profit centres,

with the specific intention of making each division more responsive to management.

Point one - the division producing the lowest rate of return

has been the news division,

with its $98-million budget and its average annual deficit of 32 million.

Historically news divisions are expected to lose money,

but to our minds this philosophy is a wanton fiscal affront to be resisted.

The new plan calls for local news to be transferred to owned stations divisions.

News radio would be transferred to the UBS radio division,

and in effect the news division would be reduced from an independent division

to a department accountable to network.

- What was all that about, Ed? - This is not the time, Max.

Why wasn't I told about this?

Why was I led up onto that podium and humiliated in front of the stockholders?

Goddammit, I spoke to John Wheeler this morning

and he assured me the news division was safe.

If you want me to resign it's a hell of a way to do it.

We'll talk about this tomorrow at our regular morning meeting.

- Eleven. Ten. Nine. - Roll VTA.

Eight. Seven. Six.

In five. Four. Three. Two.

- One. - One. Cue VTA.

And...

Cue announcer.

The UBS "Evening News"…

with Howard Beale.

Ready, two. Two, cue Howard.

Good evening.

Today is Wednesday, September 24, and this is my last broadcast.

Yesterday I announced that I was going to commit public suicide.

Admittedly, an act of madness.

I'll tell you what happened. I just ran out of bullshit.

- All right, cut him off. - Leave him on.

- Am I still on the air? - If this is how he wants to go out,

- this is how he goes out. - I don't know any other way to say it.

Mr Schumacher's here. You want to talk to him?

Bullshit is all the reasons we give for living.

If we can't think up reasons of our own, we have the God bullshit.

- Holy Mary, mother of God! - Tom, what is it?

…through all this pointless pain, humiliation and decay,

so there better be someone somewhere who does know - that's the God bullshit.

He's saying life is bullshit, and it is! Why are you screaming?

Man is a noble creature that can order his own world. Who needs God?

If there 's anybody that can look around this demented slaughterhouse of a world

- and say man is a noble creature… - I'm not taking calls.

- believe me, that man is full of bullshit. - What's so goddamn funny?

I can't help it, Harry. It's funny.

- Max, this is going out live to 67 affiliates. - I don't have any kids.

Leave him on.

And I was married for 33 years of shrill, shrieking fraud.

- Mr Hackett's trying to get through. - Tell Mr Hackett to go fuck himself.

So I don't have any bullshit left.

I just ran out of it, you see.

Mr Ruddy, could we have one statement from you?

I'm sorry, I don't have all the information yet.

Mr Ruddy, please? If we could just have one statement about Mr Beale.

Max?

I'll wanna see Mr Beale after this.

The way I hear it, Max, you were primarily responsible for this stupid prank.

- Is that the fact, Max? - That's the fact.

It was unconscionable.

- Doesn't seem to be any more to say. - l have something to say, Ed.

I want to know why the debasement of the news division

announced at the stockholders' meeting this afternoon was kept secret from me.

You and I go back 20 years, Ed.

I took this job with your personal assurance

that you'd back my autonomy against any encroachment.

But ever since CCA acquired control of UBS Systems ten months ago

Hackett's been taking over everything.

Who the hell is running this network? You or some conglomerate called CCA?

You're president of the Systems group,

and Hackett's nothing but a hatchet man for CCA.

Nelson here, president of the network,

and he hasn't a thing to say about anything any more.

I told you at the stockholders' meeting, Max,

that we would discuss all that at our regular meeting tomorrow morning.

If you'd been patient, I would've explained that I too thought Hackett precipitate,

and that the news division would not be reorganised

until everyone, specifically you, Max,

had been consulted and satisfied.

Instead you engaged this network in a shocking and disgraceful episode.

Your position is no longer tenable, regardless of restructuring.

I will expect your resignation tomorrow.

We will coordinate our statements to the least detriment of everyone.

Bob McDonough will take over the news division until we can sort all this out.

I'd like to see Mr Beale now.

They're looking for him, Ed. They don't know where he is.

Well, every day, five days a week, for 15 years, I've been sitting behind that desk.

The dispassionate pundit reporting with seemly detachment

the daily parade of lunacies that constitute the news.

And just once I wanted to say what I really felt.

Knock it off, Arthur.

It was, after all, my last…

- Are the overnight ratings in? - They're on your desk.

- Have you still got yesterday's? - Shall I bring them in?

Yeah.

These are the four outlines submitted by Universal for an hour series.

You needn't bother to read them. I'll tell you.

The first one is set in a large Eastern law school, presumably Harvard.

The series is irresistibly entitled The New Lawyers.

The characters are a crusty but benign ex-Supreme Court justice,

presumably Oliver Wendell Holmes, by way of Dr Zorba.

There is a beautiful girl graduate student

and a local DA who is brilliant and sometimes cuts corners.

Next one.

- The second one's called Amazon Squad. - Lady cops.

Characters include a crusty but benign police lieutenant

who always gets heat from the commissioner,

a hard-drinking detective who thinks women belong in the kitchen,

and a beautiful girl cop who's fighting the feminist battle.

We're up to our ears in lady cops.

The next is another investigative reporter show.

A crusty but benign managing editor...

You know, Barbara,

the Arabs have decided to jack up the price of oil another 20 percent.

The CIA has been caught opening Senator Humphrey's mail.

There's a civil war in Angola, another one in Beirut,

New York City's still facing default. They finally caught up with Patricia Hearst.

And the whole front page of the Daily News is Howard Beale.

There's also a two-column story on page one of the Times.

Helen, call Mr Hackett's office. See if he can give me a few minutes this morning.

KTNS Kansas City refuses to carry our network news show any more

- unless Beale is taken off the air. - Did you see the overnights on the news?

It has an eight in New York, a nine in LA and a 27 share in both cities.

Last night Beale went on and yelled "bullshit" for two minutes,

and I tell you tonight's show will get a 30 share at least. We lucked into something.

Are you suggesting we put that lunatic back on the air, yelling "bullshit"?

Yes, I think we should put Beale back on tonight and keep him on.

Did you see the News this morning? Did you see the Times?

We've got press coverage on this you couldn't buy for a million dollars.

That show jumped five rating points in one night. Tonight will be at least 15.

We just increased our audience by 20 or 30 million people in one night!

You're not gonna get something like this again. You can't just piss it away.

Howard Beale said what every American feels - that he's tired of all the bullshit.

He's articulating the popular rage. I want that show, Frank.

I can turn it into the biggest smash on TV.

What? It's a news show. It's not your department.

I see Howard Beale as a latter-day prophet,

a messianic figure, inveighing against the hypocrisies of our times.

A strip Savonarola Monday through Friday that could just go through the roof!

And I'm talking about a six-dollar cost-per-thousand show.

I'm talking about $100-130,000 minutes.

You wanna figure out the revenues of a strip show for 100,000 bucks a minute?

One show like that could pull this network right outta the hole.

It's being handed on a plate. Let's not blow it.

Yes?

Tell him I'll be a few minutes.

- Let me think it over. - Let's not go to committee on this.

It's 10.20. We want Beale in that studio by 6.30. We don't wanna lose momentum.

For God's sakes, we're talking about putting a manifestly irresponsible man

on national television.

I'd like to talk to Legal Affairs, and Herb Thackeray,

and certainly Joe Donnelly in Standards and Practices.

And you know I'm gonna be eyeball to eyeball with Mr Ruddy on this.

If I'm wrestling Ruddy, I wanna make sure of some of my ground.

I'm the one whose ass is going on the line.

I'll get back to you, Diana.

I don't believe the top brass of a TV network are sitting around their salads...

Top brass of a bankrupt TV network with projected losses of $150 million this year.

I don't care how bankrupt.

You can't be seriously proposing, and the rest of us seriously considering,

putting on a pornographic network news show. The FCC'd kill us.

Sit down, Nelson. The FCC can't do anything except rap our knuckles.

I don't want to think about litigations. We could be up to our ears in lawsuits.

- The affiliates won't carry it. - They'll kiss your ass for a hit show.

- The popular reaction... - That's what we have to find out.

- The New York Times… - It doesn't advertise on our network.

All I know is this violates every canon of respectable broadcasting.

We're a whorehouse network and we have to take whatever we can get.

I don't want any part of it. I don't fancy myself the president of a whorehouse.

That's very commendable of you, Nelson. Now sit down.

Your indignation has been duly recorded. You can always resign tomorrow.

Now, look. What, in substance, are we proposing?

Merely to add editorial comment to our network news show.

Brinkley, Sevareid, Reasoner all have their comments.

Now Howard Beale'll have his. I think we ought to give it a shot.

Let's see what happens tonight. Telephone, please.

I don't wanna have to tell Max Schumacher about this.

Max doesn't work here any more. Mr Ruddy fired him last night.

Bob McDonough's running the news division now.

Bob McDonough in News, please.

Oh, I don't know.

I may teach. I may write a book.

Whatever the hell one does when one approaches the autumn of one's years.

My God, is that me?

Was I ever that young?

No. Howard just brought in a picture of Ed Murrow

and the whole CBS gang when we were there.

You wouldn't believe it. Walter Cronkite, Harry Reasoner, Hollenbeck, Bob Trout.

- Is that you, Howard? - Mm-hm.

Yeah.

- OK, Dick, we'll be in touch. - You remember this kid?

You once sent him out to interview Cleveland Amory on vivisection.

That's him.

What's so funny?

So I jump out of bed in my pyjamas, I grab my raincoat, I run downstairs,

I run out in the street and I hail a cab. And I jumped in and I yelled at the driver

"Take me to the middle of the George Washington Bridge."

And the driver turns around and he says "Don't do it, buddy! Don't do it!"

"You're young. You got your whole life ahead of ya!"

Wait a minute! Wait a minute!

If you think that's funny... if you think that's funny, wait till you hear this.

I've just come from Hackett's office. He wants Howard on the air tonight.

- You're kidding! - Ratings went up five points last night.

He wants Howard to go back on and do his angry man thing.

What are you talkin' about?

I'm telling you. They want Howard to go back on and yell "bullshit".

They want Howard to go on spontaneously letting out his anger.

A latter-day prophet, denouncing hypocrisies.

Hey, that sounds pretty good.

Who's this "they"?

Hackett. Chaney was there. The Legal Affairs guy.

- Oh, and that girl from Programming. - Diana? What's she got to do with this?

- You're kidding, aren't you? - I'm not kidding. I told 'em.

I said "We're running a news department, not a circus."

"And Howard Beale's not a bearded lady."

"If you think I accept this bastardisation of the news,

you can have my resignation along with Max Schumacher's."

"I speak for Howard and everybody..."

Hey, hold it, McDonough. That's my job you're turning down.

I'd go nuts without some kind of work.

And what's wrong with being an angry prophet, denouncing hypocrisies?

What do you think, Max?

Do you wanna be an angry prophet, denouncing hypocrisies?

Yeah, I think I'd like to be an angry prophet, denouncing hypocrisies.

Then grab it. Grab it!

- Afternoon, Mr Ruddy. - Afternoon.

Good afternoon, Mr Ruddy.

- He's waiting for you, Mr Ruddy. - Thank you.

Nelson Chaney tells me Beale may actually go on the air this evening.

As far as I know, Howard's going to do it.

- Are you gonna sit still for this, Ed? - Yes.

I think Hackett's overstepped himself.

There's corporate manoeuvring going on. Hackett is clearly forcing a confrontation.

That would account for his behaviour at the meeting. However...

I think he's making a serious mistake with this Beale business.

I suspect CCA will be upset at Hackett's presumptuousness.

Certainly, Mr Jensen will.

So I'm going to let Hackett have his head for a while.

He just might lose it over this Beale business.

I'd like you to reconsider your resignation, Max.

I assume that Hackett wouldn't take such steps without support on the CCA board.

I'll have to go directly to Mr Jensen.

When that happens, I'm going to need every friend I've got.

I don't want Hackett's people in all the divisional positions,

so I'd like you to stay on, Max.

Of course, Ed.

Thank you, Max.

This has been the UBS "Evening News" with Howard Beale.

The initial response to the new Howard Beale show was not auspicatory.

The press was, without exception, hostile, and industry reaction negative.

The ratings for the Thursday and Friday shows were both 14,

but Monday's rating dropped a point, suggesting the novelty was wearing off.

Did you know a number of psychics work as licensed brokers on Wall Street?

Some counsel their clients using tarot cards.

They're pretty successful, even in a bear market and selling short.

I met one of them last week and thought of doing a show around her.

The Wayward Witch of Wall Street, something like that.

But if her tips are good, she could wreck the market.

So I called her this morning and asked her how she was on predicting the future.

She said she was occasionally prescient.

"For example" she said "I just had a fleeting vision of you sitting in an office

with a craggy middle-aged man with whom you are

or will be emotionally involved."

And here I am.

- She does all this with tarot cards? - No, she operates on parapsychology.

She has trancelike episodes and feels things in her energy field.

I think this lady could be very useful to you, Max.

- In what way? - Well, you put on a news show.

Here's somebody who could predict tomorrow's news for you.

Her name, aptly enough, is Sybil. Sybil the Soothsayer.

You could give her two minutes at the end of a Howard Beale show, say on Fridays,

which is suggestively occult, and she could oraculate.

Then next week everyone tunes in to see how good her predictions were.

Maybe she could do the weather.

Your news show is gonna need help if it's going to hold.

Beale doesn't do the angry-man thing well at all. He's too kvetchy.

We want a prophet, not a curmudgeon. He should do more apocalyptic doom.

I think you should take on a couple of writers to write some jeremiads for him.

I see you don't fancy my suggestions.

- Hell, you're not serious, are you? - Oh, I'm serious.

The fact is, I could make your Beale show the highest-rated news show in television

- if you'd let me have a crack at it. - What do you mean, have a crack at it?

I'd like to programme it for you, develop it.

I wouldn't interfere with the actual news itself, but TV is showbiz, Max.

And even the news has to have a little Showmanship.

My God, you are serious.

I watched your six o'clock news today. It's straight tabloid.

You had a minute and a half of a lady riding naked in Central Park.

And you had less than a minute of hard international news.

It was all sex, scandal, brutal crime, sports,

children with incurable diseases, and lost puppies.

So I won't listen to any protestations of high standards of journalism.

You're right down in the street, soliciting audiences like the rest of us.

If you're gonna hustle, at least do it right.

I'll bring this up tomorrow, but I don't like network hassles.

l was hoping you and I could work this out between us. That's why I'm here.

I was hoping you were looking for an emotional involvement

with a craggy middle-aged man.

Oh, I wouldn't rule that out entirely.

All right, Diana,

you bring up all your ideas at the meeting tomorrow, because if you don't, I will.

I think Howard's making a goddamn fool of himself,

and so does everybody that Howard and I know in this industry.

It was a fluke. It didn't work.

So tomorrow Howard goes back to the old format,

and all of this gutter depravity comes to an end.

OK.

I don't get it, Diana. You hung around until 7.30

and then came all the way down here just to pitch a couple of loony showbiz ideas

when you knew goddamn well I'd laugh you right out of the office.

I don't get it.

What's your scam in this?

Max, my little visit here tonight

was a gesture made out of your stature in the industry,

and because I've admired you since I was a kid majoring in speech

at the University of Missouri. But sooner or later, with or without you,

I will take over your network news show, and I figured I might as well start tonight.

I, uh, think I once gave a lecture

- at the University of Missouri. - I was in the audience.

I had a terrible schoolgirl crush on you for a couple of months.

If we could get back for a moment to that gypsy

who predicted all that about emotional involvements and middle-aged men...

What are you doing for dinner tonight?

I can't make it tonight, love. Call me tomorrow.

- Do you have a favourite restaurant? - I eat anything.

I get a feeling I'm being made.

You are.

Well, I've got to warn you, I don't do anything on my first date.

We'll see.

Schmuck. What are you getting into?

I was married for four years and pretended to be happy,

and had six years of analysis and pretended to be sane.

My husband ran off with his boyfriend and I had an affair with my analyst.

He told me I was the worst lay he had ever had.

I can't tell you how many men have told me what a lousy lay I am.

I apparently have a masculine temperament.

l arouse quickly, consummate prematurely,

and I can't wait to get my clothes back on and get out of that bedroom.

I seem to be inept at everything except my work.

I'm good at my work, so I confine myself to that.

All I want out of life is a 30 share and a 20 rating.

You're married, surely.

25 years. I have a married daughter in Seattle who's six months' pregnant,

and a younger girl who's starting at Northwestern in January.

Well, Max, here we are.

Middle-aged man, reaffirming his middle-aged manhood,

and a terrified young woman with a father complex.

What sort of script do you think we can make out of this?

Corridor gossip says that you're Frank Hackett's backstage girl.

I'm not.

Frank's a corporation man, body and soul. He has no loves, lusts or allegiances

that are not directed toward becoming a CCA board member.

So why should he bother with me? I'm not even a stockholder.

What about your loves, lusts and allegiances?

Is your wife in town?

Yes.

Well, then, we'd better go to my place.

I can't hear you. You'll have to talk a little louder.

Yes.

I hear you.

Yes.

Yes.

Why me?

I said why me?

OK.

Howard in his office?

Oh, Harry, I'm killing this whole screwball angry-prophet thing.

- Tonight we go back to straight news. - OK.

Fifteen seconds. Fourteen. Thirteen.

Yeah?

Max, I'm tellin' you he's fine. He's been sharp all day. He's been funny as hell.

Had everybody crackin' up at the rundown meeting. I told him. I told him.

Up. Cue VTA.

Ready, two.

- Cue announcer. - The UBS "Evening News".

- With Howard Beale. - Take two. Cue Howard.

Last night I was awakened from a fitful sleep

shortly after two o'clock in the morning

by a shrill, sibilant, faceless voice.

I couldn't make it out at first, in the dark bedroom.

I said "I'm sorry, you will have to talk a little louder."

- What do you want me to do? - Nothing.

And the voice said "I want you to tell the people the truth."

"Not easy, because they don't wanna know the truth."

And I said "You're kidding? What the hell should I know about the truth?"

But the voice said to me "Don't worry about the truth."

"I will put the words in your mouth."And I said "What is this? The burning bush?"

"I'm not Moses." And the voice said "I'm not God. What has that got to do with it?"

The voice said "We're not talking about eternal or absolute or ultimate truth."

"We're talking about impermanent, transient, human truth."

"I don't expect you to be capable of truth,

but at least you're capable of self-preservation."

And I said "Why me?" And the voice said "Because you're on television, dummy!"

Beautiful.

"You have 40 million Americans listening. After this you could have 50 million."

"I'm not asking you to wear sackcloth and ashes, preaching the Armageddon."

"You're on TV, man!"

So I thought about it for a moment.

And then I said "OK."

Close the door, Harry.

Howard, I'm taking you off the air.

I think you're having a breakdown, require treatment.

This is not a psychotic episode.

This is a cleansing moment of clarity.

I'm imbued, Max. I'm imbued with some special spirit.

It's not a religious feeling. It's a shocking eruption of great electrical energy.

I feel vivid and flashing,

as if suddenly I'd been plugged into some great electromagnetic field.

I feel connected to all living things.

To flowers,

birds,

all the animals of the world.

And even to some great, unseen, living force.

What I think the Hindus call prana.

But it's not a breakdown.

I've never felt more orderly in my life. It is a shattering and beautiful sensation.

It is the exalted flow of the space-time continuum,

save that it is spaceless and timeless and...

of such loveliness.

I feel on the verge of some great, ultimate truth.

And you will not take me off the air for now or for any other spaceless time!

Oh, boy.

- Is he OK? - He's just fainted.

I'd better get him back to my house again tonight.

Help me get him up.

It's crazy.

The whole place has gone crazy. They just seem to hassle me.

Wake up, Max, because Howard's gone.

I'll make you some coffee.

What do you mean, you don't know where he is? He's a hit!

Over 2,000 phone calls. Go down to the mailroom - over 14,000 telegrams.

- The response is sensational. Herb? - Max...

Herb's phone hasn't stopped. Every damn affiliate from Albuquerque to Sandusky.

- The response is sensational. Yes?

All right! For you, Herb. Get back to your office.

Moldanian called me. Joe Donnelly called me. We got a goddamn hit!

Show him the Times! We even got an editorial in the goddamn New York Times!

- I don't know where he is. - That son of a bitch has caught on.

- Don't say you don't know where he is. - He could be jumping off a roof!

The man is insane. He's not responsible for himself.

He needs care and treatment. And all you graverobbers think about is that he's a hit.

You know, Max, it's just possible that he isn't insane.

That he is, in fact, imbued with some special spirit.

My God, I'm supposed to be the romantic! You're the hard-bitten realist.

All right. Howard Beale obviously fills a void.

The audience obviously wants a prophet, even a manufactured one, even mad.

By tomorrow he'll have a 50 share, maybe even a 60.

Beale is processed instant God. He may go over bigger than Mary Tyler Moore.

I am not putting Howard back on the air!

It's not your show any more, Max, it's mine.

I gave her the show, Schumacher.

I'm putting the network news show under Programming.

Mr Ruddy has had a heart attack and is not taking calls.

In his absence, I'm making all network decisions,

including one I've been wanting to make a long time: You're fired.

I want you out of here by noon. I'll have you thrown out if you're still here.

Well, let's say "Fuck you, Hackett."

You want me out of here, you'll have to drag me out.

- The whole news division too. - You think they'll quit for you?

- Not in this recession. - When Ruddy's back he'll have your ass.

I got a hit, Schumacher, and Ruddy doesn't count any more.

He hoped I'd fail with this Beale show, but I didn't.

It's a big fat big-titted hit and I don't have to waffle around with Ruddy any more.

If he wants to take me up before the CCA, let him.

Think Ruddy is stupid enough to go to the board and say

"I'm taking our one hit show off the air"?

Come November 14, I'll be there at the annual CCA management review meeting

and I'll announce projected earnings for this network for the first time in five years.

Believe me, Mr Jensen's gonna be rocking back and forth in his little chair,

and he's gonna say "That's very good, Frank. Keep it up."

So don't have any illusions about who's running this network now.

I want you outta your office before noon or I'll have you thrown out.

You go along with this?

I told you I didn't want a network hassle on this.

I told you I'd much rather work the Beale show out just between the two of us.

Well, let's just say "Fuck you too, honey." Howard Beale may be my best friend.

I'll go to court. I'll put him in a hospital before I'll let you exploit him.

Get your psychiatrist. I'll get mine.

I'm gonna spread this reeking business in every newspaper,

on every network, group and affiliate in the country.

- I'm gonna make a lot of noise about this. - Great. We need all the press we can get.

Something going on between you and Schumacher?

Not any more.

- How do you do? - I must make my witness.

Sure thing, Mr Beale.

Oil ministers of the OPEC nations meeting in Vienna still haven't decided…

- Ready VTA.

Yeah? He came in about five minutes ago.

Make sure he gets here. Tell Snowden to let him go on.

Did you get that, Paul?

Five. Four.

- Three. Two. One. - VTA.

This has been the most divisive meeting the oil states have ever had.

The 13 nations of OPEC have still not been able to decide

by how much to increase the price of oil. Saudi Arabian…

How much time we got?

…for consultations with his government. He returned to the Vienna…

- This is Ed Fletcher, in Vienna. - Take two. Cue Howard.

I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad.

It's a depression. Everybody's out of work, or scared of losing their job.

The dollar buys a nickel's worth.

Banks are going bust. Shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter.

Punks are running wild, and nobody knows what to do. There's no end to it.

We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat.

We sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today

we had 15 homicides and 63 violent crimes, as if that's the way it should be.

We know things are bad. Worse than bad. They're crazy.

Everything is going crazy, so we don't go out any more.

We sit in the house, and the world we live in gets smaller.

All we say is "Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms."

"Let me have my toaster and my TV and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone."

Well, I'm not going to leave you alone. I want you to get mad!

I don't want you to protest or riot. I don't want you to write to your congressman.

I don't know what to do about the depression, the inflation and the crime.

All I know is that first you've got to get mad!

You've gotta say "I'm a human being, goddammit! My life has value!"

So... I want you to get up now.

I want all of you to get up out of your chairs.

I want you to get up right now and go to the window,

open it and stick your head out and yell

"I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this any more!"

- I want you to get up right now... - Stay with him.

- Stay with him. - Stay with him.

...and stick your head out and yell

"I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this any more!"

- How many stations does this go live to? - 67. It goes to Louisville and Atlanta...

Then we'll figure out what to do about

the depression, inflation and the oil crisis.

But first get up out of your chairs, open the window, stick your head out and yell

"I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this any more!"

- Who are you talking to? - CGG, Atlanta.

- Are they yelling in Atlanta? - Are they yelling in Atlanta?

But first you've gotta get mad! You've gotta say

"I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this any more!"

They're yellin' in Baton Rouge.

Get up. Get up...

Son of a bitch! We struck the mother lode!

Stick your head out of the window. Open it, stick your head out and keep yelling

"I'm as mad as hell. I'm not gonna take this any more! "

Just get up from your chairs right now…

- Where are you going? - I wanna see if anybody's yelling.

and stick your head out and yell and keep yelling…

I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take this any more!

I'm mad as hell! I'm not gonna take it any more!

I'm as mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it any more!

I'm as mad as hell! I'm not gonna take it any more!

I'm as mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it any more! I'm not gonna take it!

I'm mad as hell!

By October the Howard Beale show had settled in on a 42 share,

more than equalling all the other network news shows combined.

In the Nielsen ratings it was listed as the fourth-highest-rated show of the month,

surpassed only by "The Six Million Dollar Man", "All in the Family" and "Phyllis" -

a phenomenal state of affairs for a news show.

And on October 15 Diana Christensen flew to Los Angeles

for what the trade calls powwows and confabs with her programming execs

and to get production rolling for the coming season.

Christ. You brought half the William Morris West Coast office along with you.

Hi, I'm Diana Christensen. A racist Iackey of the imperialist ruling circles.

I'm Laureen Hobbs, a bad-ass Commie nigger.

Sounds like the basis of a firm friendship. We need more chairs.

- Anybody want coffee? - I'd love some.

Coffee? Coffee? Wanna come take some coffee orders?

Hiya.

This is my lawyer Sam Haywood and his associate Merrill Grant.

Mr Haywood.

Well, Ms Christensen, just what the hell's this all about?

Because, when a national television network comes to me and says

they wanna put the ongoing struggle of the oppressed masses on primetime TV,

- I have to regard this askance. - What Mr Haywood was saying

was that our client Ms Hobbs wants it upfront

that the political content of the show has to be entirely in her control.

She can have it. I don't give a damn about the political content.

- What kind of show do you have in mind? - A weekly dramatic series

based on the Ecumenical Liberation Army.

The first show has to be a two-hour special on Mary Ann Gifford.

Let me tell you what I want. More film like the bank rip-off the Ecumenical sent in.

The way I see the series is...

each week we open with an authentic act of political terrorism,

taken on the spot, in the moment.

Then we go to the drama behind the opening footage.

That's yourjob, Miss Hobbs.

You gotta get the Ecumenicals to bring in that film footage for us.

The network can't deal with them directly. They are, after all, wanted criminals.

The Ecumenical Liberation Army is an ultra-left sect creating political confusion

with wildcat violence and pseudo-insurrectionary acts,

which the Communist Party does not endorse.

The American masses are not yet ready for open revolt.

We would not want to produce a show

celebrating historically deviational terrorism.

I'm offering an hour a week into which you can stick any propaganda you want.

The Ecumenicals are an undisciplined ultra-left gang

whose leader is an eccentric to say the least.

He calls himself the Great Ahmed Khan and wears a hussar's shako.

Ms Hobbs, we're talking about 30 to 50 million people a shot.

Better than handing out mimeographed pamphlets on ghetto street corners.

Well, I'll have to take this matter to the central committee.

And I'd better check it out with the Great Ahmed Khan.

I'll be in LA until Saturday and I'd like to get it rolling.

OK?

Well, Ahmed...

you ain't gonna believe this, but I'm gonna make a TV star out of you.

Just like Archie Bunker.

You gonna be a household word.

What the fuck are you talkin' about?

- 30 seconds. - All right, ready VTA.

One, you have the audience to pan.

- Two, you have the window to pull. - 25.

Three, you're on the announcer.

20.

- Stand by VTA. - Fifteen. Fourteen.

- Thirteen. Twelve. - Ready, eight.

- Eleven. Ten. - Roll VTA.

Nine. Eight. Seven.

Six. Five.

- Ready, three. - Four. Three.

- Two. One. - Three, cue announcer.

Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it! How do you feel?

We're mad as hell and we're not gonna take it any more!

The network news hour, with Sybil the Soothsayer!

Jim Webbing and his It's-The-Emmes-Truth department.

Miss Mata Hari and her skeletons in the closet.

Plus, tonight, another segment of Vox Populi.

And starring the mad prophet of the airwaves, Howard Beale!

Edward George Ruddy died today!

Edward George Ruddy was chairman of the board

of the Union Broadcasting Systems

and he died at 11 o'clock this morning of a heart condition.

And woe is us, we're in a lot of trouble.

So...

a rich little man with white hair died.

What has that got to do with the price of rice, right? And why is that woe to us?

Because you people and 62 million other Americans are listening to me right now.

Because less than three per cent of you people read books.

Because less than 15 per cent of you read newspapers.

Because the only truth you know is what you get over this tube.

Right now, there is a whole and entire generation

that never knew anything that didn't come out of this tube.

This tube is the gospel! The ultimate revelation!

This tube can make or break presidents, popes, prime ministers.

It is the most awesome goddamn force in the whole godless world.

Woe is us if it falls into the hands of the wrong people.

That's why woe is us that Edward George Ruddy died.

Because this company is now in the hands of CCA,

the Communication Corporation of America.

There's a new chairman of the board, Frank Hackett,

sitting in Mr Ruddy's office.

And when the 12th largest company in the world controls

the most awesome goddamn propaganda force in the whole godless world,

who knows what shit will be peddled for truth on this network.

So you listen to me. Listen to me.

Television is not the truth. Television's a goddamned amusement park.

Television is a circus, a carnival,

a travelling troupe of acrobats, storytellers, dancers, singers, jugglers,

sideshow freaks, lion tamers and football players.

We're in the boredom killing business.

So if you want the truth, go to God.

Go to your gurus. Go to yourselves.

Because that's the only place you're ever going to find any real truth.

But, man, you're never gonna get any truth from us.

We'll tell you anything you wanna hear. We lie like hell.

We'll tell you that Kojak always gets the killer,

and that nobody ever gets cancer in Archie Bunker's house.

However much trouble the hero is in, don't worry. Look at your watch.

At the end of the hour he's going to win. We'll tell you any shit you want to hear.

We deal in illusions, man. None of it is true.

But you people sit there, day after day, night after night,

all ages, colours, creeds.

We're all you know. You're beginning to believe the illusions we're spinning.

You're beginning to think the tube is reality and your lives are unreal.

You do whatever the tube tells you.

You dress like the tube, eat like the tube,

raise your children like the tube, think like the tube.

This is mass madness, you maniacs.

In God's name, you people are the real thing! We are the illusion!

80 turn off your television sets. Turn them off now.

Turn them off right now! Turn them off and leave them off.

Turn them off right in the middle of the sentence I'm speaking now.

Turn them off.

UBS was running at a cash flow breakeven point,

after taking into account $110 million of negative cash flow from the network.

It was clear the fat on the network had to be flitched off.

Note an increase in projected initial programming revenues of $21 million

due to the phenomenal success of The Howard Beale Show.

I expect a positive cash flow for the entire complex of $45 million,

achievable in this fiscal year - a year, in short, ahead of schedule.

To go beyond that, this network may well be

the most significant profit centre of the communications complex.

And, based upon the projected rate of return on invested capital,

and if merger is accomplished, the communications complex may become

the towering and most-profitable centre in the entire CCA empire.

I await your questions and comments.

Mr Jensen.

Very good, Frank. Exemplary. Keep it up.

Buy you a cup of coffee?

Hell, yes.

Do you have to get back to the office?

Nothing that can't wait.

I, uh... I drop down to the news studios every now and then

and ask Howard Beale about you and he says you're doing fine. Are you?

No.

Are you keeping busy?

Oh, in a fashion. This is the third funeral I've been to in two weeks.

I have two other friends in the hospital whom I visit regularly

and I've been to a couple of christenings.

All my friends seem to be dying or having grandchildren.

You should be a grandfather about now.

You have a pregnant daughter in Seattle, don't you?

Any day now.

My wife's out there for the occasion.

I've thought many times of calling you.

I wish you had.

You know, I bumped into Sybil the Soothsayer in the elevator last week.

I said "You know, Sybil, about four months ago

you predicted I would get involved with a craggy middle-aged man."

"So far all that's happened has been one many-splendoured night."

"I don't call that 'getting involved'."

And she said "Don't worry, you will."

It was a many-splendoured night, wasn't it, Max?

Yes, it was.

Are we gonna get involved, Max?

Yes. I need to become involved very much.

How about you?

I've reached for the phone to call a hundred times, but...

I was sure you hated me for my part in taking your news show away.

I probably did. I don't know any more.

All I know is...

I can't get you out of my mind.

Look, Marty, I know what NBC offered him, so I'm saying go to 3.5.

And I want an option for a third run on all of them.

I'm in a hurry, and you and Charlie should be negotiating this.

So goodbye, good luck. I'll see you Monday.

Jimmy Caan's agent says nix.

- Can't win them all. - Where can I reach you?

You can't. I'll be gone all weekend.

NBC's offering 3.25 mil per package of five James Bond movies

and I think I'm gonna steal them for 3.5, for the third run.

I'll stick The Mao Tse-tung Hour in at eight,

because we're having a lot of trouble selling them Mao Tse-tung.

That Mao Tse-tung Hour's turning into one big pain in the ass.

We're having heavy legal problems with the federal government right now.

Two FBI guys turned up in Hackett's office last week and served us with a subpoena.

They heard about our Flagstaff bank rip-off film and they want it.

Hackett told the FBI to fuck off.

No, but we're getting around the FBI

by doing the show in collaboration with the news division.

We're standing on the First Amendment and the right to protect our sources.

Walter thinks we can knock out the misprision of felony charge.

But he says absolutely nix on going to series.

They'll hit us with conspiracy and inducement to commit a crime.

Christ, it's cold in here.

See, we're payin' the Ecumenical Liberation Army 10,000 bucks a week

to turn in authentic footage of their revolutionary activities

and that constitutes inducement to commit a crime.

And Walter says we'll all wind up in federal prison.

I said "Walter, let the government sue us."

"Let the federal government sue us. We'll take them to the Supreme Court."

We'll be front page. Mm.

And once... the New York Times

and the Washington Post and Time gets a whiff of us...

we'll be front page for months - more press than Watergate.

All I need is six weeks' federal litigation

and The Mao Tse-tung Hour can start carrying its own time slot.

What's really bugging me now is my daytime programming.

NBC's got a lock on daytime with their lousy game shows...

and I'd like to bust them.

I'm thinking of doing a homosexual soap opera.

The Dykes.

The heart-rending saga about a woman

hopelessly in love with her husband's mistress.

What do you think?

How long has it been going on?

A month.

I thought it was a transient thing and would blow over in a week.

I still pray to God it's just a menopausal infatuation.

But it is an infatuation, Louise.

There's no sense in my saying I won't see her again, because I will.

Do you want me to leave? Check into a hotel?

Do you love her?

I don't know how I feel.

I'm grateful I can feel anything.

I know I'm obsessed with her.

Then say it.

Don't keep telling me that you're obsessed, that you're infatuated.

Say that you're in love with her.

I'm in love with her.

Then get out! Go anywhere you want!

Go to a hotel, go live with her, but don't come back.

Because, after 25 years of building a home and raising a family

and all the senseless pain that we have inflicted on each other,

I'm damned if I'll stand here and have you tell me you're in love with somebody else.

Because this isn't a convention weekend with your secretary, is it, or...

or some broad that you picked up after three belts of booze?

This is your great winter romance, isn't it?

Your last roar of passion before you settle into your emeritus years.

Is that what's left for me? Is that my share?

She gets the winter passion and I get the dotage? What am I supposed to do?

Sit home, knitting and purling, while you slink back like some penitent drunk?

I'm your wife, dammit! If you can't work up a winter passion for me,

the least I require is respect and allegiance.

I hurt. Don't you understand that?

I hurt badly.

Oh, say something, for God's sake!

I've got nothing to say.

I won't give you up easily, Max.

I think perhaps it is better if you move out.

Does she love you, Max?

I'm not sure she's capable of any real feelings.

She's television generation. She learned life from Bugs Bunny.

The only reality she knows comes to her from over the TV set.

She's carefully devised a number of scenarios for all of us to play,

like the movie of the week.

My God, look at us, Louise.

Here we are, going through the obligatory middle of act two,

the "scorned wife throws peccant husband out" scene.

But don't worry, I'll come back to you in the end.

All her plot outlines have me leaving her and coming back to you,

because the audience won't buy a rejection of the happy American family.

She does have one script in which I kill myself.

An adapted-for-television version of Anna Karenina,

where she's Count Vronsky and I'm Anna.

You're in for some dreadful grief, Max.

I know.

"The Mao Tse-tung Hour" went on air March 14. It received a 47 share.

The network promptly committed to 15 shows, with an option for ten more.

There were the usual contractual difficulties.

"...equal to 20 per cent, except that such percentages shall be 30 per cent

for 90-minute or longer television programmes."

- Have we settled that sublicensing thing? - No.

We want a clear definition here.

"Gross proceeds should consist of all funds the sublicensee receives,

not merely the net amount remitted after payment to sublicensee or distributor."

We're not standing for overhead charges as a cost prior to distribution.

Don't fuck with my distribution costs! I'm making a lousy 215 per segment.

I already deficit 25 grand a week with Metro.

I pay William Morris ten per cent.

I give this turkey ten thou per segment, five to her.

Helen, don't start no shit about a piece again.

I pay Metro 20 per cent for all foreign and Canadian distribution, after recoupment.

The Communist Party's not gonna see a nickel until syndication.

The party's in for 7500 a week production expenses.

I'm not givin' this pseudo-insurrectionary sectarian a piece of my show,

and I ain't cuttin' him in on my distribution charges.

You fuckin' fascist! Did you see the film we made of the San Marino jail break-out,

showing the rising up of a prisoner-class infrastructure?

You can blow the prisoner-class infrastructure out your ass.

I'm not knocking down my goddamn distribution charges!

Man, give her the fuckin' overhead clause.

How did I get here? Who's gonna believe this?

Let's get back to page 22, subsidiary rights.

- Where are we now? - Page 22, middle, subsidiary rights.

"As used herein, 'subsidiary rights' means any and all rights..."

In the past two days, you've had the chance to meet Diana Christensen,

our vice president in charge of programming.

This afternoon you all saw some of the stuff she's set up for the new season.

You...

you all know that she is the woman behind the Howard Beale show.

Now, we...

we all know she's beautiful.

We all know she's brainy.

I was thinking, before we start digging in to our chateaubriands...

let's show her how we feel about her.

We've got the number-one show in television.

At next year's affiliates' meeting, I'll be here telling you we've got the top five.

Last year we were the number-four network.

Next year we're number one.

We're number one! We're number one!

We're number one! We're number one!

We're number one! We're number one!

It is exactly seven o'clock here in Los Angeles,

and right now, over a million homes using television in this city

are turning their dials to channel three, and that's our channel.

Howard Beale!

Stop it! Stop it!

You listen to me, and listen carefully,

because this is your goddamn life I'm talking about today.

When one company wants to take over another company

they buy a controlling share of the stock, but first they have to tell the government.

That's how CCA took over the company that owns this network.

But now somebody is buying up CCA.

Somebody called the Western World Funding Corporation.

They filed the notice this morning. Who is the Western World Funding Corporation?

It is a consortium of banks and insurance companies

who are not buying CCA for themselves but as agents for somebody else.

Who is the somebody else? They won't tell!

They won't tell you, or the Senate,

they won't tell the SEC, the FCC, they won't tell the Justice Department…

This is Mr Hackett. Do you have a New York call for me?

You wanna turn that down, please?

I will tell you who they're buying CCA for.

They're buying it for the Saudi-Arabian Investment Corporation.

They are buying it for the Arabs.

Clarence? Frank Hackett. How's New York? How's the good lady?

All right. Take it easy. I don't know what you're talking about.

When? Tonight's show?

Clarence, take it easy. The Howard Beale Show's just going on out here.

You guys get it three hours earlier in New York.

Clarence, take it easy. How the hell could I see it? It's just going on now.

When did Mr Jensen call?

We all know that the Arabs control $60 billion in this country.

They own a chunk of Fifth Avenue, 20 downtown pieces of Boston.

A part of the port of New Orleans. An industrial park in Salt Lake City.

They own big hunks of the Atlanta Hilton. The Arizona Land and Cattle Company.

The Security National Bank in California. Bank of the Commonwealth in Detroit.

They control Aramco, so that puts them into Exxon, Texaco and Mobil oil.

They're all over! New Jersey, Louisville, St Louis, Missouri.

And that's only what we know about. There's a lot more we don't know about,

because all those Arab petrol dollars

are washed through Switzerland, Canada and the biggest banks in this country.

For example, what we don't know about is this CCA deal.

And all the other CCA deals.

Right now the Arabs have screwed us out of enough American dollars

to come right back and, with our own money, buy General Motors, IBM, ITT,

AT&T, DuPont, US Steel and 20 other American companies.

Hell, they already own half of England!

So, listen to me. Listen to me, goddammit.

The Arabs are simply buying us.

There's only one thing that can stop them - you.

You!

So I want you to get up now.

I want you to get up out of your chairs.

I want you to get up right now and go to the phone.

I want you to get up from your chairs, go to the phone, get in your cars,

drive into the Western Union offices in town.

I want you to send a telegram to the White House.

Oh, my God.

By midnight tonight, I want a million telegrams in the White House.

I want them wading knee-deep in telegrams at the White House.

I want you to get up right now and write a telegram to President Ford saying

"I'm as mad as hell and I'm not gonna take this any more."

"I don't want the banks selling my country to the Arabs."

"I want the CCA deal stopped now."

"I want the CCA deal stopped now." Come on!

I want the CCA deal stopped now.

I want the CCA deal stopped now.

I want the CCA deal stopped now.

I want the CCA deal stopped now.

- Look, could we have the room? - Sure.

Well, I'd like to see a typescript and run through a couple more times.

But as for this whole CCA deal with the Saudis,

you'd know a lot more about that, Frank, than I would. Is it true?

The CCA has two billions in loans with the Saudis,

and they hold every pledge we've got.

We need that Saudi money bad.

Disaster. The show is a disaster.

Unmitigated disaster. The death knell.

I'm ruined. I'm dead. I'm finished.

Maybe we're overstating Beale's clout with the public.

An hour ago McElheny called me from New York. It was ten o'clock in the East.

Our people in the White House report they were already knee-deep in telegrams.

By tomorrow morning, they'll be suffocating in telegrams.

Can the government stop the deal?

They can hold it up. The SEC could hold this deal up for 20 years if they wanted to.

I'm finished. Any second that phone's gonna ring

and Clarence McEIheny is gonna tell me Jensen wants me in his office tomorrow

so he can personally chop my head off.

Four hours ago, I was the sun-god at CCA. Mr Jensen's hand-picked golden boy.

The heir apparent.

Now... I'm a man without a corporation.

Let's get back to Howard Beale.

You're not seriously gonna pull Beale off the air?

Mr Jensen's unhappy with Howard Beale and wants him discontinued.

But he isn't stupid enough to withdraw the number-one show out of pique.

Two billion dollars isn't pique!

It's the wrath of God. The wrath of God wants Beale fired!

Why? Every other network will grab him. He'll be back on air for ABC tomorrow.

- We'll lose 20 points... - I'II impale him.

- Roughly a 40-million loss... - I'll take out a contract on him.

- Don't discount federal action... - I'II hire pros.

No, I'll do it.

- I'll strangle him. - It's a violation of network autonomy...

Jeez!

- I don't think Jensen will fire anybody.

Hackett.

Yes, Clarence. I've already booked my flight.

Can you give me a little more time?

I've got the redeye flight. I won't be back in New York until six tomorrow morning.

That'll be just fine. I'll see you then.

Mr Jensen wants to meet Howard Beale personally.

He wants Mr Beale in his office at ten o'clock tomorrow morning.

The final revelation is at hand.

I have seen the shattering fulgurations of ultimate clarity.

The light is impending. I bear witness to the light.

Good morning, Mr Beale. They tell me you're a madman.

- Only desultorily. - How are you now?

I'm as mad as a hatter.

Who isn't? I'm going to take you into our conference room.

It seems more seemly a setting for what I have to say to you.

I started as a salesman, Mr Beale.

I sold sewing machines and automobile parts,

hair brushes and electronic equipment.

They say I can sell anything.

I'd like to try to sell something to you.

Valhalla, Mr Beale. Please, sit down.

You have meddled with the primal forces of nature, Mr Beale,

and I won't have it. Is that clear?

You think you've merely stopped a business deal. That is not the case.

The Arabs have taken billions out of this country and now they must put it back.

It is ebb and flow, tidal gravity.

It is ecological balance.

You are an old man who thinks in terms of nations and peoples.

There are no nations. There are no peoples.

There are no Russians. There are no Arabs.

There are no Third Worlds. There is no West.

There is only one holistic system of systems.

One vast and immane, interwoven, interacting,

multivariate, multinational dominion of dollars.

Petrol dollars, electro dollars, multi dollars.

Reichsmarks, rins, roubles,

pounds and Shekels.

It is the international system of currency

which determines the totality of life on this planet.

That is the natural order of things today.

That is the atomic...

and subatomic

and galactic structure of things today.

And you have meddled with the primal forces of nature.

And you will atone.

Am I getting through to you, Mr Beale?

You get up on your little 21-inch screen...

and howl about America and democracy.

There is no America. There is no democracy.

There is only IBM and ITT and AT&T...

and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide and Exxon.

Those are the nations of the world today.

What do you think the Russians talk about in their councils of state? Karl Marx?

They get out linear programming charts, statistical decision theories,

and compute price-cost probabilities of their transactions and investments like us.

We no longer live in a world of nations and ideologies, Mr Beale.

The world is a college of corporations...

inexorably determined by the immutable bylaws of business.

The world is a business, Mr Beale.

It has been since man crawled out of the slime.

And our children will live, Mr Beale,

to see that... perfect world...

in which there's no war or famine,

oppression or brutality.

One vast and ecumenical holding company,

for whom all men will work to serve a common profit.

In which all men will hold a share of stock,

all necessities provided,

all anxieties tranquillised,

all boredom amused.

And I have chosen you, Mr Beale, to preach this evangel.

Why me?

Because you're on television, dummy.

60 million people watch you every night of the week, Monday through Friday.

I have seen the face of God.

You just might be right, Mr Beale.

That evening Beale went on air to preach Jensen's corporate cosmology.

Last night I got up here and asked you to stand up and fight for your heritage,

and you did, and it was beautiful.

Six million telegrams were sent to the White House.

The Arab takeover of CCA has been stopped.

The people spoke, the people won. It was a radiant eruption of democracy.

But I think that was it, fellas.

That sort of thing is not likely to happen again,

because at the bottom of all our terrified souls

we know that democracy is a dying giant,

a sick, sick, dying, decayed political concept writhing in its final pain.

I don't mean that the United States is finished as a world power.

It is the richest, most powerful, most advanced country in the world.

I don't mean the communists are gonna take over. They're deader than we are.

What is finished is the idea that this great country is dedicated

to the freedom and flourishing of every individual in it.

It's the individual that's finished.

It's the single, solitary human being that's finished.

It's every single one of you out there that's finished.

Because this is no longer a nation of independent individuals.

It's a nation of some 200-odd million transistorised, deodorised,

whiter-than-white, steel-belted bodies, totally unnecessary as human beings

and as replaceable as piston rods.

Well, the time has come to say is dehumanisation such a bad word?

Whether it's good or bad, that's what is so.

The whole world is becoming humanoid - creatures that look human but aren't.

The whole world. We're the most advanced country so we'll get there first.

The whole world's people are becoming mass-produced,

programmed, numbered and...

It was a perfectly admissible argument that Beale advanced.

It was, however, also a very depressing one.

Nobody particularly cared to hear his life was utterly valueless.

By the end of the first week in June the show had dropped a point in the ratings

and its trend of shares dipped under 48 for the first time since last November.

You're his agent! I'm counting on you to talk some sense into the lunatic.

Nobody wants to hear about dying democracy and dehumanisation.

- Sorry I'm late. - We've got rumbles from the agencies.

Another couple of weeks of this, the sponsors will bail out.

This is a breach of contract. This isn't the Beale we signed.

Get him off this corporate-universe kick or so help me, I'll pull him off the air.

I told him, Lew. I've been telling him every day for a week.

I am sick of telling him. Now you tell him!

Jesus Christ.

You could help me out with Howard if you wanted to. He listens to you.

I'm tired of all this hysteria about Howard Beale.

Every time you see your family you come back in a morbid middle-aged mood.

I'm tired of finding you on the phone every time I turn around.

I'm tired of being an accessory in your life.

I'm tired of pretending to write this book

about my maverick days in the great early years of television.

Every goddamned executive fired from a network in the last 20 years

has written this dumb book about the great early years of television.

And nobody wants a dumb, damn book about the early days of television.

Terrific, Max. Maybe you can start a whole new career as an actor.

It's the truth.

After living with you for six months I'm turning into one of your scripts.

Well, this is not a script, Diana.

There's some real, actual life going on here.

I went to visit my wife today because she's in a state of depression.

So depressed that my daughter flew from Seattle to be with her.

And I feel lousy about that.

I feel lousy about the pain that I've caused my wife and my kids.

I feel guilty and conscious-stricken and all of those things that you think sentimental

but which my generation calls simple human decency.

And I miss my home,

because I'm beginning to get scared shitless.

All of a sudden it's closer to the end than to the beginning,

and death is suddenly a perceptible thing to me, with definable features.

You're dealing with a man that has primal doubts, Diana,

and you've got to cope with it.

I'm not some guy discussing male menopause on the Barbara Walters show.

I'm the man that you presumably love.

I'm part of your life.

I live here. I'm real.

You can't switch to another station.

Well...

what exactly is it you want me to do?

I just want you to love me.

I just want you to love me, primal doubts and all.

You understand that, don't you?

I don't know how to do that.

I'll be with you in a minute, Max.

By July "The Howard Beale Show" was down 11 points.

Hysteria swept through the network.

He's a plague. He's smallpox. He's typhoid. I don't wanna follow his show.

I've enough troubles without Beale as a lead-in.

You put me against Tony Orlando and Dawn.

NBC's got Little House on the Prairie. ABC's got that Bionic Woman.

You gotta do something about Howard Beale.

Get him off the air. Get him off. Do something! Do anything!

We're trying to find a replacement. I'm going to look at audition footage now.

And I opened the Sixth Seal

and, man, I tell you, I saw it.

It was heavy, baby.

I saw the earth quake,

and I saw the moon became like blood,

and every mountain and island was moved from its place.

No, no, dammit. If we wanted hellfire, we'd get Billy Graham.

We don't want faith healers, evangelists or Passion players.

What about that terrific new messiah ABC was supposed to have signed up?

That's him.

That's him?

Jesus. Turn him off!

I've got three more, but you've already seen the best ones.

I've got a guru from Spokane

and two more hellfires who see visions of the Virgin Mary.

We won't find a replacement. Let's stop kidding ourselves.

Fully-fledged messiahs don't come in bunches.

We either go with Howard Beale or we go without him.

My reports say we'll do better without him.

It would be a disaster to let this go on another week.

By then he'll be down 16 points and the trend irreversible, if it isn't already.

I think we should fire Howard.

Arthur Jensen has taken a strong personal interest

in The Howard Beale Show.

We're having dinner tonight. I'll have another crack at him. Let's meet at 10pm.

Diana, give me copies of all your audience research.

I may need them for Jensen. Is ten o'clock convenient for everyone?

I think the time's come to re-evaluate our relationship, Max.

So I see.

I don't like the way this script of ours is turning out.

It's turning into a seedy little drama.

Middle-aged man leaves wife and family for young heartless woman, goes to pot.

The Blue Angel with Marlene Dietrich and Emil Jannings.

- I don't like it. - So you're gonna cancel the show.

- Right. - Here, let me do that.

The simple fact is, Max, that you're a family man.

You like a home and kids. But I am incapable of any such commitment.

All you'll get from me is intermittent sex

and recriminate and ugly little scenes like the one we had last night.

I'm sorry for all those things I said to you last night.

You're not the worst fuck I've ever had. Believe me, I've had worse.

You don't...

you don't puff and snorkel and make deathlike rattles.

As a matter of fact, you're rather serene in the sack.

Why is it that a woman always thinks the most savage thing she can say to a man

is to impugn his cocksmanship?

Well, I'm sorry I impugned your cocksmanship.

I gave up comparing genitals back in the school yard.

You're being docile as hell about this.

Aw, hell, Diana, I knew it was over with us weeks ago.

Will you go back to your wife?

I'll give it a try but I don't think she'll jump at it. But don't worry about me.

I'II manage. I always have. I always will.

I'm more concerned about you. You're not the boozer type.

So I figure a year, maybe two, before you crack up

or jump out of your 14th-floor office window.

Stop selling, Max. I don't need you.

I don't want your pain. I don't want your menopausal decay and death.

- I don't need you. Now get out of here. - You need me.

You need me badly, because I'm your last contact with human reality.

I love you!

And that painful, decaying love is the only thing

between you and the shrieking nothingness you live the rest of the day.

Then don't leave me.

It's too late, Diana.

There's nothing left in you that I can live with.

You're one of Howard's humanoids.

If I stay with you, I'll be destroyed.

Like Howard Beale was destroyed.

Like Laureen Hobbs was destroyed.

Like everything you and the institution of television touch is destroyed.

You're television incarnate, Diana.

Indifferent to suffering,

insensitive to joy.

All of life is reduced to the common rubble of banality.

War, murder, death - all the same to you as bottles of beer.

And the daily business of life is a corrupt comedy.

You even shatter the sensations of time and space

into split seconds and instant replays.

You're madness, Diana.

Virulent madness.

And everything you touch dies with you.

But not me.

Not as long as I can feel pleasure...

and pain...

and love.

And it's a happy ending.

Wayward husband comes to his senses,

returns to his wife, with whom he's established a long and sustaining love.

Heartless young woman left alone in her arctic desolation.

Music up with a swell.

Final commercial.

And here are a few scenes from next week's show.

How did it go?

Mr Jensen was unhappy at the idea of taking Howard Beale off the air.

Mr Jensen thinks Howard Beale is bringing a very important message

to the American people.

So he wants Howard Beale on the air and he wants him kept on.

Mr Jensen feels we're too catastrophic in our thinking.

I argued that television was a volatile industry

in which success and failure were determined week by week.

Mr Jensen said he did not like volatile industries,

and suggested with a certain sinister silkiness...

that volatility in business usually reflected bad management.

He didn't care if it was the number-one show or the 50th.

He didn't really care if the Beale show lost money.

He wants Howard Beale on the air, and he wants him kept on.

I would describe his position on this as inflexible.

Where does that put us, Diana?

That puts us in the shithouse, that's where that puts us.

- Do you want me to go through this? - Yes.

The Beale show Q score is down to 33.

Most of this loss occurred in the child and teen and 18-34 categories,

which were our key core markets.

It's the AR department's judgement, and mine, that if we get rid of Beale

we should maintain a respectable share in the high 203, possibly 30,

with a comparable Q level.

The other segments of the show - Sybil, Jim Webbing, the Vox Populi -

have all developed their own audiences.

Our AR report showed that it is Howard Beale that is the destructive force here.

Minimally, we're talking about a ten-point differential in shares.

I think Joe ought to spell it out for us. Joe?

A 28 share is $80,000 minutes.

I think we can sell complete positions on the whole.

We're getting into the pre-Christmas gift sellers.

The agencies are coming back to me with $4 CPMs.

If that's any indication, we're talking $40-45 million loss in annual revenues.

- Wanna hear the flak from the affiliates? - We know all about it.

And you would describe Mr Jensen's position on Beale as inflexible?

lntractable and adamantine.

So what do we do about this Beale son of a bitch?

I suppose we'll have to kill him.

I don't suppose you have any ideas on that, Diana?

Well...

what would you fellas say to an assassination?

I think I can get the Mao Tse-tung people to kill Beale for us as one of their shows.

In fact, it'll make a hell of a kick-off show for the season.

We're facing heavy opposition on the other networks

and "The Mao Tse-tung Hour" could use a sensational opener.

It could be done right on camera, in the studio.

We ought to get a fantastic look-in audience

with the assassination of Howard Beale as our opening show.

Well, if Beale dies, what would our continuing obligation

to the Beale Corporation be?

I know our contract with Beale contains a buyout clause

triggered by his death or incapacity.

There must be a formula for computation of the purchase price.

Offhand, I think it was based on a multiple of 1975 earnings

with the base period in 1975.

I think it was 50% of salary plus 25% of the first year's profit

multiplied by the unexpired portion of the contract.

I don't think the show has any substantial syndication value, would you say?

Syndication profits are minimal.

We're talking about a capital crime here.

The network can't be implicated.

I hope you don't have any hidden tape machines in this office, Frank.

The issue is shall we kill Howard Beale or not?

I'd like to hear some more opinions on that.

I don't see we have any option. Let's kill the son of a bitch.

Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it. How do you feel?

We're mad as hell and we're not gonna take this any more!

The network news hour, with Sybil the Soothsayer.

Jim Webbing and his It's-The-Emmes-Truth department.

Miss Mata Hari and her skeletons in the closet.

Tonight, another segment of Vox Populi.

And starring the mad prophet of the airwaves, Howard Beale!

The network news anchorman on the UBS network news show,

known to millions as the mad prophet of the airwaves, was shot to death tonight

in a fusillade of automatic rifle fire just as he began this evening's broadcast.

We never compromise, so why should you? Canada Dry mixers.

…identified themselves as the group responsible.

The Great Ahmed Khan, a massive man, carrying an automatic weapon…

Some cereal. It's supposed to be good for you.

- Did you try it? - I'm not gonna try it. You try it.

Other countries got their arms open wide…

- Yeah. - He won't eat it. He hates everything.

The extraordinary incident occurred in full view of his millions of viewers.

The assassins were in a terrorist group called the Ecumenical Liberation Army,

two of whom were apprehended.

The leader of the group, known as the Great Ahmed Khan, escaped.

This was the story of Howard Beale,

the first known instance of a man who was killed because he had lousy ratings.