A decent woman and her husband are driven to suicide by the jackals of the press. There is no satisfaction in the end, for the press is relentless in its exploitation of human suffering, wallowing in hypocritical sanctimony and drunk with power, due to its stranglehold on information and its corruption of the political process. The only satisfaction given us in "Five Star Final" is a rhetorical one and, mercifully, the survival of a few brave souls willing to pick up the debris of lives destroyed by the Gazette, the tabloid journal of the film.
Edward G. Robinson plays a ruthless, yet conscience-ridden editor, who too late realizes that crusading journalism - investigative reporting we call it these days - is often just a pretext for pandering to the vulgar public's taste for road kill. I like Robinson in this kind of role better than Robinson the gangster type. He has a brow that is far more affecting when tightly knit in anguish than in fierceness. And his last scene is a tour de force of cathartic fury, which director Mervin LeRoy frames effectively, so that the audience shares in the emotional release.
Also not to be missed is Boris Karloff's sleazy, resourceful hatchet man, who insinuates himself into private lives like a pickpocket. There are other fine performances, notably that of H. B. Warner, who is touching as a tormented victim of publicity. Another standout is Anthony Bushell, as the fiancé of Warner's daughter. He could have played the usual pretty-boy lug, but instead brings sensitivity to an otherwise stock character.
Viewers might be put off by some of the acting technique of this early (1931) talkie. Gestures tend to melodramatic here, due to most of the cast's coming from silents, in which pantomime is important, or the stage, where one must project into back rows. But it's easy to overlook this minor irritant.
Everyone saw the news media's apotheosis of itself in "All the President's Men". For a balanced view of the media, they should see more films like "Five Star Final," a gem whose neglect no doubt delights the jackals of the press.
Edward G. Robinson plays a ruthless, yet conscience-ridden editor, who too late realizes that crusading journalism - investigative reporting we call it these days - is often just a pretext for pandering to the vulgar public's taste for road kill. I like Robinson in this kind of role better than Robinson the gangster type. He has a brow that is far more affecting when tightly knit in anguish than in fierceness. And his last scene is a tour de force of cathartic fury, which director Mervin LeRoy frames effectively, so that the audience shares in the emotional release.
Also not to be missed is Boris Karloff's sleazy, resourceful hatchet man, who insinuates himself into private lives like a pickpocket. There are other fine performances, notably that of H. B. Warner, who is touching as a tormented victim of publicity. Another standout is Anthony Bushell, as the fiancé of Warner's daughter. He could have played the usual pretty-boy lug, but instead brings sensitivity to an otherwise stock character.
Viewers might be put off by some of the acting technique of this early (1931) talkie. Gestures tend to melodramatic here, due to most of the cast's coming from silents, in which pantomime is important, or the stage, where one must project into back rows. But it's easy to overlook this minor irritant.
Everyone saw the news media's apotheosis of itself in "All the President's Men". For a balanced view of the media, they should see more films like "Five Star Final," a gem whose neglect no doubt delights the jackals of the press.