The Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020): Sorkin’s Courtroom Firestorm of Protest and Power

“The whole world is watching.” In 1968, those words ignited a nation. In 2020, they still burn.

Aaron Sorkin’s taut, electrifying drama pulls us back to one of America’s most infamous legal battles, where idealism clashed head-on with authority amid the chaos of a pivotal election year. Blending razor-sharp dialogue with unflinching historical insight, the film captures the raw fury of dissent in a way that resonates across generations.

  • The explosive backdrop of the 1968 Democratic National Convention protests and the sham trial that followed, exposing fractures in justice.
  • Sorkin’s masterful screenplay, packed with walk-and-talk energy and moral complexity, elevating real events into cinematic legend.
  • Standout performances that humanise radicals and reformers, underscoring the film’s enduring call to question power.

The Streets Ignite: Chicago, 1968

The film opens amid the humid haze of a Chicago summer turned volcanic. The Democratic National Convention looms, but the real action pulses outside the convention halls. Thousands converge: young activists from the National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam, known as MOBE; the Youth International Party, or Yippies, with their theatrical flair; Students for a Democratic Society; and the Black Panthers, each bringing their unique fire to the anti-war cause. Hubert Humphrey accepts the nomination inside, but outside, police batons crack against skulls as tear gas clouds the air. Sorkin reconstructs these clashes with visceral precision, drawing from newsreels and eyewitness accounts to show how peaceful assembly morphed into mayhem.

At the heart stand seven defendants—soon eight when Bobby Seale joins the fray. There’s Abbie Hoffman, the Yippie provocateur with a knack for street theatre; Jerry Rubin, his comrade in counterculture chaos; Tom Hayden, the disciplined SDS leader penning the Port Huron Statement; Rennie Davis, the organiser extraordinaire; David Dellinger, the pacifist elder; Lee Weiner and John Froines, the lesser-known chemists accused by association; and Seale, the Black Panther co-founder, gagged and bound in court. Federal charges of conspiracy and inciting riot fly, but the real trial targets their audacity to challenge the establishment. Sorkin threads their backstories through flashbacks, revealing motivations forged in Vietnam’s shadow and civil rights’ blaze.

The protests themselves form a microcosm of 1960s unrest. Mayor Richard J. Daley deploys 12,000 police and National Guard troops against 10,000 demonstrators. What begins as marches devolves into what the Walker Report later deems a “police riot.” Films shows delegates bloodied, nuns clubbed, and chants rising: “The whole world is watching.” This phrase, shouted by a protester as cameras roll, becomes the trial’s haunting refrain, symbolising media’s role in exposing state violence.

Sorkin avoids simple heroes and villains. The defendants bicker among themselves—Hayden’s pragmatism chafes against Hoffman’s showmanship—mirroring fractures in the left. Meanwhile, Richard Nixon watches from afar, campaigning on “law and order.” The convention’s chaos hands him the election, but the trial aims to crush the spirit that fuelled it. Through montages of carnage, Sorkin builds tension, priming us for the courtroom where words become weapons.

Judicial Farce: The Circus Begins

Enter Judge Julius Hoffman, a figure so eccentric he borders on caricature, yet rooted in reality. Played with frosty bombast, he presides over a proceeding that defies legal norms. Prosecutor Tom Foran thunders accusations, but the defence, led by William Kunstler and Leonard Weinglass, fights a losing battle from day one. Bobby Seale’s outbursts lead to his binding and gagging—four chains shackling him to his chair—a spectacle broadcast nationwide, galvanising Black America.

The trial unfolds in marathon sessions, with 200 witnesses parading through. Yippies nominate a pig for president; Hoffman wears judicial robes under his suit. Objections fly like confetti; contempt citations pile up. Sorkin captures the tedium turning absurd: defendants disrupt with chants, flags appear magically in court, and the judge confuses names relentlessly. Yet beneath the levity lurks peril—five years’ sentences loom for convictions certain before jury selection.

Key moments sear into memory. Hayden reads names of Vietnam dead, humanising statistics; Dellinger punches an FBI informant testifying against him. The film dissects strategies: Kunstler urges restraint, but radicals revel in exposure. Richard Schultz, the reluctant prosecutor played with quiet integrity, emerges as the system’s conscience, questioning the case’s merits in private. These beats highlight Sorkin’s thesis: trials test democracy as much as guilt.

Over five months, the spectacle mesmerises. Media frenzy amplifies every stunt, turning defendants into folk heroes. Appeals to higher courts fail; the judge’s bias tilts scales. Convictions come, later overturned on appeal for due process violations. Sorkin compresses this sprawl into a lean narrative, focusing on emotional cores while nodding to historical breadth.

Walk, Talk, and Takedown: Sorkin’s Stylistic Mastery

True to form, Sorkin infuses his screenplay with kinetic dialogue. Scenes pulse with overlapping banter, characters striding corridors in signature “walk and talk” sequences. From jailhouse strategising to press scrums, rhythm mirrors urgency. This technique, honed on The West Wing, propels 130 minutes without drag, each exchange layering ideology and wit.

The script, decades in development since Sorkin first penned it post-A Few Good Men, draws from trial transcripts. Lines crackle: Hoffman’s quips deflate pomposity; Hayden’s earnestness grounds chaos. Sorkin balances levity—Rubin mooning the court—with gravity, like Seale’s invocation of the Fifth Amendment amid gags. No monologues preach; arguments evolve organically, inviting viewers to pick sides.

Visually, Steven Zallian’s editing and Phedon Papamichael’s cinematography support the pace. Cool blues of courtrooms contrast riot’s fiery oranges; tight shots on faces amplify tension. Sound design weaves protest chants into testimony, blurring lines between street and bench. Sorkin directs with restraint, letting words dominate—a rarity in spectacle-driven cinema.

Cultural context enriches: the trial embodies post-Watergate cynicism, prefiguring Trump-era divisions. Sorkin wrote amid 2020 protests, infusing prescience without preachiness. His research—transcripts, memoirs like Jason Epstein’s—ensures fidelity, yet dramatic liberties heighten stakes, like intensified Seale arc.

Portraits in Defiance: The Ensemble Shines

Sacha Baron Cohen vanishes into Abbie Hoffman, trading Borat grotesquerie for sly charisma. His Hoffman dances on subversion’s edge, masking vulnerability with humour. Eddie Redmayne’s Tom Hayden channels quiet intensity, eyes burning with reformist zeal. Jeremy Strong’s Jerry Rubin matches energy, while John Carroll Lynch’s Foran conveys conflicted duty.

Mark Rylance steals scenes as Judge Hoffman, eccentric yet tyrannical. Frank Langella’s Federal Attorney General John Mitchell looms offscreen, puppet-master incarnate. Yahya Abdul-Mateen II’s Bobby Seale commands fury, his silencing a gut-punch. Supporting turns—Michael Keaton’s wry Ramsey Clark, Kelvin Harrison Jr.’s pained Dellinger—elevate ensemble synergy.

Performances dissect archetypes: radicals as flawed idealists, officials as cogs in machine. Cohen’s Hoffman quips through pain; Redmayne’s Hayden wrestles compromise. Chemistry sparks in group dynamics, from jailhouse rifts to courtroom unity. Nods to method acting ground portrayals in authenticity.

Sorkin’s casting favours stage veterans, yielding nuanced delivery. Rehearsals fostered rapport, mirroring defendants’ bonds. Result: humanised history, where laughter pierces pathos, compelling empathy across divides.

Legacy of Thunder: Relevance Endures

Released amid Black Lives Matter marches, the film reignites 1968’s questions: When does protest cross into riot? Can justice withstand politics? Streaming on Netflix, it drew 38 million households first month, sparking discourse. Critics lauded script; Oscars followed for Sorkin.

Influences ripple: inspired docs like Chicago 10, stage plays. Collector’s appeal lies in posters, scripts—Sorkin’s original fetches premiums. Nostalgia for protest era grows; merchandise evokes Woodstock vibes amid modern malaise.

The real trial’s 1970 convictions reversed 1972; pardons came under Carter. Defendants scattered: Hayden to politics, Hoffman to suicide 1989. Film honours their fight, warning against eroding rights. In collector circles, it joins pantheon of trial dramas like Inherit the Wind.

Production notes add lustre: shot COVID-free, Sorkin adapted quickly. Marketing tied to election, amplifying buzz. Legacy: reminder that history rhymes, urging vigilance.

Director/Creator in the Spotlight

Aaron Sorkin, born 9 June 1961 in New York City, emerged from a Jewish family steeped in law—his father a labour lawyer, mother a court reporter. Raised amid Watergate hearings, young Aaron absorbed drama from living rooms. Attending Syracuse University, he majored in theatre, debuting Removing All the Rubbish there. Post-grad, he waitressed while honing scripts, breakthrough via sister Laura’s producer urging Sidney Lumet to read A Few Good Men.

That 1989 play rocketed him; 1992 film grossed $243 million, earning Oscar nod. Sorkin’s career hallmarks rapid-fire dialogue, idealism, power’s corridors. TV pioneer with Sports Night (1998-2000), levity amid newsroom chaos; The West Wing (1999-2006), Emmy-sweeping Oval Office saga, 25 Emmys total. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip (2006-07) skewered SNL; The Newsroom (2012-14) tackled journalism ethics.

Films: Malcolm X uncredited polish (1992); The American President (1995), romantic politics; Charlie Wilson’s War (2007), wry CIA tale. The Social Network (2010) won Oscar for Facebook origin, blending tech with hubris. Moneyball (2011) Oscar-nom stats revolution; Steve Jobs (2015) biopic triptych. Molly’s Game (2017) directorial debut, poker scandal from his script. Broadway: The Farnsworth Invention (2007), To Kill a Mockingbird adaptation (2018).

Influences: David Mamet, screwball comedies, All the President’s Men. Activism shines: gun control advocate post-Sandy Hook. Recent: Being the Ricardos (2021), Lucy-Desi marriage; The Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020), passion project gestating 15 years. Upcoming: Camelot series. Sorkin’s oeuvre champions words as change agents, from courtrooms to capitals.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Sacha Baron Cohen embodies Abbie Hoffman, Yippie co-founder whose life fused anarchy and activism. Born 13 October 1971 in London to a Jewish family, Cohen studied history at Cambridge, captaining fencing team. Breakthrough as Ali G on Channel 4 (1998-2004), satirical rapper interviewing unwitting celebs. Expanded to Da Ali G Show (2000-04), HBO hit; films Ali G Indahouse (2002), voice Borat in Madagascar sequels.

Borat (2006) exploded globally, $262 million gross, Golden Globe; sequel Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (2020) Oscar-nom. Bruno (2009) pushed boundaries; The Dictator (2012) satirised tyranny. Dramatic pivot: Hugo (2011), Scorsese fantasy; Les Misérables (2012) as Thénardier, Olivier nom. The Brothers Grimsby (2016) spy farce.

Versatility peaks in Trial: Golden Globe nom for Hoffman. Later: Sergeant Stubby voice (2017); The Spy (2019) miniseries Israeli agent; Sweeney Todd stage (2024). Activism: anti-extremism foundation, UN ambassador. Films: King Arthur (2017), Alice Through the Looking Glass (2016). With wife Isla Fisher, four children; balances comedy’s edge with depth. Hoffman’s real arc—from Chicago to fugitive exile, suicide 1989—inspires Cohen’s vibrant tribute.

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Bibliography

Frost, R. (1974) The Conspiracy Trial of the Chicago Eight. Chicago Review Press.

Lincoln, V. (1970) The Chicago Seven Conspiracy Trial. Open Road Media.

Sorkin, A. (2020) The Trial of the Chicago 7. Netflix Original Screenplay. Available at: https://www.netflix.com/title/81040397 (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Walker, D. (1968) Rights in Conflict: The Violent Confrontation of Demonstrators and Police in the Parks and Streets of Chicago During the Week of the Democratic National Convention of 1968. Bantam Books.

Weinglass, L. (1971) Trial of the Chicago 7. Quadrangle Books.

Epstein, J. (1992) Great Divides: What Do Americans Want?. W.W. Norton.

Davis, N. Z. (1970) Review of the Chicago Conspiracy Trial. New York Review of Books. Available at: https://www.nybooks.com/articles/1970/02/26/the-chicago-conspiracy-trial/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Variety Staff (2020) Aaron Sorkin on Reviving ‘Chicago 7’ for Trump Era. Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2020/film/news/aaron-sorkin-chicago-7-trial-netflix-1234789123/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Collins, M. (2021) Protest Cinema: Screening the Chicago 7 Legacy. Film Quarterly, 74(2), pp.45-52.

Hayden, T. (1988) Reunion: A Memoir. Random House.

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