Network has a few Oscar accomplishments to its name. It holds the joint record for most Academy Awards for acting bestowed upon a single film (three, an honor it shares with A Streetcar Named Desire and Everything Everywhere All at Once), is one of only fifteen films to be nominated in every acting category, and marked the first time a deceased actor was recognized with a posthumous award (Peter Finch, who remained the sole person to obtain such recognition until Heath Ledger’s win in 2009). Given that the film’s ensemble cast read like the crème de la crème of 1970s Hollywood talent – all of whom were working under the guidance of the esteemed Sidney Lumet – Network always seemed destined to go down as one of the great acting masterclasses… and that’s exactly what happened. It’s always been a joy to watch gifted performers doing their thing unabated, and Network still stands among the finest examples.
But Network also holds another Oscar milestone... one that could arguably be the most prestigious of its many Academy Award triumphs. When Beatrice Straight won the award for Best Supporting Actress for her role as unfortunate housewife Louise Schumacher, she did so after appearing for just five minutes and two seconds, making it the shortest performance to win an Oscar (a distinction she has held ever since). It’s a stunning achievement to receive such a highly sought accolade for a character that, by rights, should be little more than a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it part, but a talented actor can make anything impactful. Louise Schumacher may be a minor character, but Straight ensures that she is far from a minor presence, with her mid-film monologue after learning that her husband of twenty-five years has been cheating on her having the honor of being the film’s defining sequence. Considering that Network isn’t lacking in competition for that title, it speaks volumes about how effective her performance is.
Related: What Do the Films Tied for the Most Oscar Wins Have in Common?
'Network' Is a Satire About the American Entertainment Industry
For a film that’s on the verge of turning fifty, it’s shocking how much of Network feels like it was ripped straight from today’s headlines. It’s fitting that it spends its runtime exploring the inner workings of the fictitious television network Union Broadcasting System – a network so determined to escape its poor ratings and even poorer reputation that it becomes a depressing harbinger for much of the contemporary news cycle. When Howard Beale (Finch), the longtime anchor for the UBS Evening News, announces on live television that he will commit suicide during next week’s broadcast, his superiors are understandably infuriated… even more so when news division president Max Schumacher (William Holden) lets him back on the air for an equally bizarre outburst. However, their temperaments are calmed upon learning that his actions led to the biggest ratings spike in the network’s history, leading to Beale’s swift exploitation by those wishing to profit from his derangement – most notably, the scheming programming chief Diana Christensen (Faye Dunaway) whose lusts for nothing but the next television hit. It’s a tale of corporate greed whose satirical jabs at the entertainment industry have only grown more prophetic with time, making it a hilarious (and uncomfortably plausible) experience.
There’s a lot to praise about Network, but none of them would exist if not for Paddy Chayefsky. His screenplay – often regarded as one of the greatest in cinema – has become legendary amongst cinephiles and fellow writers, and not just because of how relevant its subject matter remains. Put simply, Chayefsky’s dialogue is some of the finest ever committed to paper, radiating with life and color and every other adjective one could describe the electrifying speech as. His writing is at its strongest during the film’s countless monologues (every main character gets at least one), turning what should be lengthy diatribes into captivating soliloquies any actor would relish a chance to perform. Lumet’s unobtrusive direction is the final touch of brilliance, allowing his cast to execute these segments however they see fit without garish camerawork or editing distracting from their performance. It’s rare to find an actor who collaborated with Lumet who uttered anything but the highest praise for him, with the Network cast being among his loudest champions (Straight described him as someone who "makes one want to act forever"). It was a foundation custom-made to deliver strong performances, and Beatrice Straight was keen to take advantage of it.
Beatrice Straight’s Performance Is Centered On One Powerful Scene
It says a lot about Straight’s performance that she was able to win an Academy Award for essentially one scene. While her character appears three times, the first two are little more than cameos – background roles that lead you to assume her character lacks significance. It’s a clever piece of subterfuge on Lumet’s part, and hints at the kind of marriage she and Max have. While they presumably enjoyed a passionate and warm relationship at some point, those days faded long ago, at least for Max. This doesn’t mean he dislikes her – in fact, he most likely loves and respects her more than anyone else on the planet, but more in the way you would to a close friend or a respected colleague than to a wife. Twenty-five years is a long time to be married to one person, but that’s nothing compared to working in television where lifetimes can pass in a heartbeat. He’s a relic in both his professional and private life, and it’s no coincidence that the fiery young woman he has an affair with, Diana, is the same fiery young producer ushering in a new age of tabloid journalism.
For all his sins, Max still adheres to a moral code, leading to the face-to-face discussion with Louise where he confesses everything. She takes it about as well as you’d expect. Over the next four minutes, Louise pours her soul into one of the most heart-wrenching depictions of a marital breakdown ever committed to celluloid, weaving between a torrent of conflicting emotions that leaves nothing concealed. A hate-fueled monologue gives way to sorrowful attempts to deny reality before her demeanor subsides to that of grim acceptance, the ordeal of the previous four minutes having sapped any desire to fight. Not a second is wasted, and it’s a testament to Chayefsky’s linguistic skills that he could populate this complex (but also potentially overdone) scene with lines that are both beautiful to hear but painful to receive. “This is your great winter romance, isn't it? Your last roar of passion before you sink into your emeritus years.”
But even if Network held the undisputed title for “greatest dialogue in the history of film,” it’s still a sequence that lives or dies on Straight’s performance. Not to spoil anything, but she nails it. Louise may have been a bit player before this scene, but by the end of it, you’d swear she’d been the protagonist by the way Straight commands your attention with every word. It’s a true tour de force performance that has you feeling every word, every emotion, that Max’s revelation causes her to unleash, and one wonders how much of it had been brewing for some time. Even her facial expressions are worthy of commendation. The opening close-up of her face, her eyes wet with imminent tears, sells her grief better than any line could, while their sudden scowl with rage upon witnessing Max admit his obsession with Diana would silence anyone not as selfish as him. It’s not unusual for an actor to win an Oscar off the back of their powerhouse scene, but considering that this is effectively her only true appearance in the film, you’ve almost no choice but to marvel at what she achieves.
Beatrice Straight Faced Tough Competition at the Oscars
Straight’s performance was praised from the onset, but it’s still remarkable that she was able to pull off her Oscar victory. Network’s ten nominations may have confirmed it as among the Academy’s favorites for that year (tying for the top spot with Rocky), but the stunning level of talent crammed into that year’s Supporting Actress category had most people assuming she wouldn’t win. Thankfully, Straight had a bit of outside assistance. Her main competitors took the form of Jodie Foster for Taxi Driver and Piper Laurie for Carrie – both excellent performances that were hampered by real-world issues. The casting of a then-twelve-year-old Foster for the role of a child prostitute in Taxi Driver was highly controversial at the time (one of many tarring the initial response to this now irrefutable classic), while Carrie had only scored one other nomination, providing it with little momentum to propel Laurie to glory despite her fifteen-year absence from Hollywood. Straight had no such baggage, and with the support of a monologue that no member of the acting branch could resist, her triumph suddenly doesn’t seem so unexpected.
More than anything else, it was Straight’s prevalence in the Best Supporting Actress category that launched Network into the annals of Oscar legend. The Academy doesn’t write the gospel on cinema’s greatest hits, but the unprecedented levels of fame that surround the ceremony see it playing a crucial role in deciding what films we’re still talking about decades down the line, regardless if we like it. Not that Network was incapable of leaving a mark without this success (even putting aside its other Oscar accomplishments, it’s still an excellent film in its own right) but it was this last-minute touch that cemented its place in the history books. Who knows if Straight’s record will ever be beaten (only Judi Dench in her eight-minute role in Shakespeare in Love has come the closest), but then again, perhaps it’s foolish to try. It takes an extraordinary actor to leave such an impression in such a little amount of time, and proves what a terrific performer Straight was. “There are no small roles, only small actors”, as the great Konstantin Stanislavski once said. Clearly Straight was a believer in that philosophy.
