[7.9/10] It’s hard to think of a film more timely than *The Trial of the Chicago 7*. The film covers the legal definition of the incitement of a riot, internecine conflicts within movements and communities that pit pragmatism against principle, the threat of police violence especially against people of color, governmental bodies in a time of transition, and the ability of our institutions both legal and cultural to respond to the crises of the moment.

It’s also a piece of slick Hollywood entertainment. Whatever the thorny issues at play in the trial of the eight (eventually, as the title promises, seven) demonstrators at the 1968 Democratic National Convention, this film packages them neatly and digestibly for a popular audience.

That’s not a knock, by the way. If you’ve seen other Awards-friendly historical dramas, particularly ones set in and around a courtroom, then *The Trial of the Chicago 7* will look pretty familiar. It dutifully sets up the societal tumult of the 1960s, dramatizes the conflicts of the time through historical figures made larger than life and impossibly articulate, and finagles plenty of opportunities for camera-ready drama. There’s nothing the movie does that’s especially new.

But what it does, it does well. It’s well-acted, well-written, and all-around well-made. What’s more, it’s funny. Maybe that’s why I’m more willing to cut it a little slack over similarly traditional Oscar movies. As much as *The Trial of the Chicago 7* hits the usual beats of adapting a historical event and Making an Important Statement:tm:, it’s not afraid to throw in some levity to help the medicine go down and take itself a little less seriously than it might. That means smart remarks, real life disruptive but humorous antics, and the occasional moment of self-aware absurdity about the whole thing.

That comes with the style of writer-director Aaron Sorkin, of *The West Wing* and *The Social Network* fame. The movie carries the strengths and weaknesses and tics of his signature style. The characters all speak in a showy but sharp patter, with lots of back-and-forth, multi-player conversations that allow the writer to pack in plenty of clever jibes, pointed recriminations, and faux-profound statements that sound just good enough to pass muster.

That’s the thing about Sorkin. He’s a deeply cheesy (and sometimes trite) storyteller, but he’s so good at the form, particularly on a scene-to-scene basis, that he makes you forget or ignore that. It’s a hell of a trick, one *The Trial of the Chicago Seven* uses to full advantage. Sorkin and company assemble a who’s who of talented actors, load them up with witty repartee, and let the film roll merrily along on the strength of those two elements alone.

But the movie also reflects his usual blind spots and favorite tropes as well. For one thing, there’s few female characters in the piece; they have drastically less to do than their male counterparts, and the moments they do get hinge on their sexuality in some way shape or form. It is also, true to Sorkin’s predilections, a movie centered on how taking a moral stand is both the right and effective thing to do, with that stand almost always taking the form of delivering some bit of stirring oratory, occasionally paired with a dramatic gesture.

Again, I’m not knocking the latter part of that. It’s a simplistic view of politics and life, but also crowd-pleasing and easy for audiences to process in a story for cinema. At times, you can see the strings, feeling how history’s bent to serve the needs of the good guys scrapping with one another but coming to appreciate each other’s passions or talent, or the opposing prosecutor turning out to be a man of principle as well just doing his job, or how the racial dimension of all of this is firmly present and yet made to fit familiar narratives. But all of this does the job Sorkin intends to do in crafting an accessible, if didactic, piece of prestige filmmaking.

The resulting film contends, in talk-y splendor, that those protestors were railroaded by a Nixon-appointed Attorney General with a personal axe to grind and a power-tripping judge riddled with bias. It maintains that they were standing up for a just cause and were unfairly antagonized by law enforcement and authority figures writ large. While the main figures dicker about tactics and respectability, the film suggests that their efforts to end the Vietnam War, to effect change and justice and equality in this country, were noble, regardless of polite society’s view of them as little more than an unruly threat culminating in a riot in a Chicago park.

The smartest move Sorkin makes in dramatizing that riot is a structural one. He dances around the key events of the film until it’s time for them to be dramatically experienced in the third act. He jumps between the incipient lead-up and the aftermath of those riots, creating a sense of anticipation for the unseen center of gravity between them. In plenty of scenes, editor Alam Baumgarten cuts between trial testimony and stand-up comedy and flashbacks that help put these events into context and guide the audience through the emotions and intensity of a given sequence.

It’s slick filmmaking and screenwriting, adopting a non-linear approach and frame story that let’s Sorkin parcel out the important details of these events when he needs them dramatically. There’s times when this feels like his version of *12 Angry Men*, but the stylistic flourishes and cross-cutting story structure give it some additional flair beyond Sorkin’s usual bubbly banter.

That banter is more in favor of revealing character than giving his characters arcs, or otherwise put in service of major players announcing the point rather than letting it arrive organically. But whether through stylistic embellishment or ping-ponging chatter, *The Trial of the Chicago 7* holds your attention throughout, provides plenty of actors their Oscar reels, and imparts its message of mutual understanding, righteous causes, and injustice allowed to reign.

The timing of it is fortuitous, but the slick presentation is deliberate. It’s the latter that’s likely to land the film plenty of awards attention, but the latter that’s going to give the film value once this moment of extreme salience has passed. I don’t know how close Sorkin’s film hews to history; I suspect not terribly closely. I don’t know how faithful or deep his morals are here; I suspect not very. But I do know how, taken solely as a piece of filmmaking, *The Trial of the Chicago 7* hits its marks better than the usual Awards season historical drama, and that’s worth recognizing too.