The journalism industry today looks strikingly different to the journalism industry of 70-odd years ago, when Billy Wilder’s 1951 masterpiece, Ace in the Hole, rolled into town. But if you think its messages might be outdated, au contraire: like Sidney Lumet’s Network (another vivisectional and scathingly cynical satire of media spectacle), the film remains strikingly relevant and scorchingly hot to the touch, told with cyclonic force and style.
A sensationally smug Kirk Douglas stars as Chuck Tatum, a hotshot city reporter who arrives in a small town hoping to land a story that’ll catapult him back to the big time. He marches into the news desk of a humble rag in Albuquerque, dripping bravado, bragging to the publisher about how he’s been fired from 11 newspapers. It’s clear this guy has burned every bridge, but we assume he’s good at his job.
These early moments establish the script’s cracking wit and wordplay, the film’s writers (Wilder, Walter Newman and Lesser Samuels) imbuing the dialogue with a sharp and salty tang which lays the foundation for some ripping lines and monologues to come. Take Tatum’s summary of his knack for his trade: “I know newspapers backwards, forwards and sideways,” he crows. “I can write ‘em, edit ‘em, print ‘em, wrap ‘em and sell ‘em. I can handle big news and little news. And if there’s no news, I’ll go out and bite a dog.”
Tatum is looking for “that big story to get me out of here”, and finds it when he learns that a local store owner, Leo Minosa (played by Richard Benedict) is trapped inside an old mining cave, pinned down by rocks. Tatum talks his way into the cave, befriends Leo and emerges with his story – an “ace in the hole” and “as big as they come”.
The script – inspired by the attempted rescue of real-life cave explorer Floyd Collins – simultaneously conveys the protagonist’s temperament and character motivations, wrapping them together like a double helix, delivering punchiness and brevity. Tatum thinks he needs a week to make his story a real page-turner, but there’s a problem: Leo might be rescued in 12 hours. Tatum convinces the sheriff to change plans and drill down into the cave from above, stretching out the rescue to around a week. The sheriff obliges, granting him exclusive access to the mine in exchange for favourable coverage; one hand washes the other.
Tatum’s journalistic instincts are bang-on: the story becomes a national sensation and he’s once again the man of the hour. The gathering of huge crowds outside the cave – transforming it into a carnival-like event replete with stalls and a ferris wheel – highlights the lecherous effects of capitalism; the spectacle-hungry public are complicit in whatever happens next. This is one of many evergreen elements of Ace in the Hole; that complicity can now be found in the people who buy trashy tabloids or scroll through race-to-the-bottom content on social media.
Ace in the Hole is sometimes discussed in the context of film noir, but it’s more noir adjacent, with an unforgiving plot trajectory tumbling towards tragic endings for both Leo and Tatum. There’s also the very noirish relationship between Tatum and Leo’s wife Lorraine, superbly played by Jan Sterling with a dangerous and weary energy; like Tatum, she’s lost and longing for an exit. Aesthetically, the film is noirish too, its chalky monochrome compositions emphasising sharpness and starkness.
Wilder brilliantly illustrates how stories can take on a life of their own, spiralling in uncontrollable directions, media industry mechanisms and various political factors exacerbating – even creating – tragedy. It’s in Tatum’s best interests to prolong and sensationalise the story: as he puts it, “Bad news sells best, because good news is no news.” Isn’t it funny how cynical films about the media are the ones that tend to stand the test of time and optimistic, rose-coloured takes on the fourth estate never really caught on?
Ace in the Hole is available to rent on Prime Video and Apple TV+ in Australia, US and UK. For more recommendations of what to stream in Australia, click here
