Review by Giuseppe_Silecchia

Alan J. Pakula's All the President's Men turns journalism into pure cinematic suspense, refusing spectacle in favor of method and moral pressure. With Gordon Willis bathing the Washington Post in harsh fluorescents and carving the parking garage into a cathedral of dread, the film makes space, shadow, and silence do the heavy lifting. William Goldman's screenplay strips away grandstanding to focus on verification-callbacks, dead ends, the stubborn "two-source rule"-so that the click of typewriters and the rustle of copy become heartbeat and drumroll. Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman avoid haloed heroics; their charisma is stamina, their weapon a phone, their victory the slow accumulation of facts. Robert L. Wolfe's editing sharpens routine into tension, and the near-absence of score honors the idea that truth arrives quietly, then rearranges the world. What it leaves is faith in craft and a sober fear of power's opacity; who it's for are viewers who crave human-scale thrills and respect for process; when to watch is on a quiet night, fully focused, ready to hear the newsroom breathe and feel the garage go cold. A masterpiece of restraint and resolve-the cinema of work raised to myth.