In a climate where the leader of the free world habitually presents lies as facts on an almost daily basis, attacks any criticism as “fake news,” demonstrates open hostility to the media, while currying favor with fringe organizations that push his agenda, fighting for the values of truth in reporting seems like a Sisyphean struggle. While the battle for the necessity of clear-eyed journalism has never seemed more fraught, Agnieszka Holland’s no-nonsense “Mr. Jones” is a timely reminder that this push-and-pull between reporters and political power is as old as the printing press. Inspired by the true story of Welsh journalist Gareth Jones, this decidedly old-fashioned but undeniably effective drama is a quietly engrossing tale of a man perilously pursuing his moral duty even as political and media forces conspire to silence him.
The film opens in 1933, with 27-year-old Jones (James Norton) serving as Foreign Advisor to Prime Minister David Lloyd George (Kenneth Cranham), and desperately trying to warn his cabinet about the very real danger of another war with Germany. Despite the fact that Jones managed to finagle interviews with both Goebbels and Hitler, who divulged to him their thinking behind their political ambitions, the old guard is more amused than alarmed, believing Germany would never dare another war. Under the guise of budget cuts, Jones is swiftly removed from his position but fueled by ambition and concern, he organizes a visa to Russia with the somewhat crackpot goal of interviewing Stalin to find out if he’s adequately prepared to defend his country’s eastern front from a potential attack by Germany. Moreover, Jones is curious about Moscow’s ostentatious displays of wealth, despite the fact that the communist country’s ruble has sunk in value and whispers of an unspeakable tragedy that has yet to catch the world’s attention.
Arriving in Russia, Jones’ wide-eyed blend of naivety and stubbornness gets a rude awakening when he meets Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times journalist Walter Duranty (Peter Sarsgaard). In the pocket of the Stalin regime, Duranty lives a life of spoiled, Jazz Age excess, writing and editing pro-Russia pieces by day, and enjoying hedonistic, drug and sex-fueled parties by night. Unable to get the help he needs from Duranty, Jones turns to Ada Brooks (Vanessa Kirby), a writer in his stable, who knows more about the rumors than she’s initially willing to divulge. She’s a firm believer in Russia’s Great Experiment, but eventually, her resolve weakens enough to guide Jones toward the Ukrainian countryside where he’s quickly greeted with the monstrous realities of the Holodomor.
Out of the gate, “Mr. Jones” feels exhumed from another era, like a lost film from the late-‘80s and early-‘90s, where this kind of determined, staid, and talky picture would’ve been familiar among the mid-budget offerings studios routinely made at the time. In 2020, Holland’s picture initially seems a bit of a novelty, but it quickly becomes evident how the filmmaker’s well-honed craft and the strong efforts of her technical and design team elevate the straight-forward script by first-time Andrea Chalupa. Working with cinematographer Tomasz Naumiuk (“High Life”) and production designer Grzegorz Piatkowski, the early stages of the film soak up the richness and opulence of London and Moscow upper-crust circles, all amber lighting, oak-lined rooms, and cigar smoke ambiance. These carefully arranged vignettes of affluence later work to strike a nauseating chord in the film’s third act, as Jones returns home, reeling from the unimaginable discoveries he’s made among the agricultural peasants suffering under Stalin’s thumb.
It’s the middle of “Mr. Jones” that truly displays Holland’s sturdy command of the material, and the ability of her collaborators to rise to the challenge. The picture shifts from procedural to something akin to an atmospheric horror film, as Jones traverses across an unforgiving, barren, bleak landscape, visiting one desolate and desperate small village after another, where hunger has driven an untold number to madness and death. The film slows here, and takes the audience on a journey of emotional and physical survival, providing an understanding of this little talked about famine that’s experiential. A strong factor in the success of this crucial second act is due to Norton, who gives a committed performance that portrays Jones’ dedication to a cause as both admirable and reckless.
“Mr. Jones” might’ve been better served to swing toward the unconventional more often than it does. One particular gimmick that never sits comfortably is a framing device that finds George Orwell (Joseph Mawle) reading aloud portions of “Animal Farm,” a novel that the film suggests is partially inspired by Jones’ reportage. The clunky tactic adds little to the picture and is largely unnecessary. It’s also regrettable that twenty minutes of scenes, some of which consisted of more moments of Jones’ return to Wales in the film’s latter stages, were cut following the Berlin Film Festival premiere, as they would’ve allowed the rushed climax a little more breathing room. Nonetheless, it’s a compliment that we want to spend more time with Jones even as the film draws to a close.
The obligation of the press to bear witness in plain, unadorned facts has never felt more crucial. How that happens in an industry driven by clicks and advertising, and where business models are eroding and changing seemingly by the day, is not an issue that “Mr. Jones” solves. However, Holland’s focused effort doesn’t let us forget the respect we owe to the writers behind the headlines and stories we idly click through that often come to us through great personal and spiritual risk. [B]
“Mr. Jones” arrives on Digital on June 19.