Ace in the Hole (aka The Big Carnival) (1951)

 

Though in its day a critical and commercial flop, Ace in the Hole, a film about a disgraced newspaperman who creates a media circus to try to get back on top, still has a lot to offer. Kirk Douglas plays Chuck Tatum, a reporter who has been let go from a slew of high-ranking papers because of his erratic and often abusive behavior. He finds himself working for a small-town paper in New Mexico, desperate for a big story to help him rekindle his career.

He finds just the thing when he stumbles upon a man trapped in a collapsed cave. Tatum uses all his tricks to smooth-talk, bargain, and swindle everyone he meets for exclusive access to Leo, the trapped man, including the sheriff, the local press, and Lorraine, Leo's freedom-seeking wife. Tatum even goes so far as to force rescuers to take more time-consuming measures to free him, risking Leo's life in exchange for the story of a lifetime. 

As the media circus surrounding the cave balloons into a veritable carnival, including snack vendors, memorabilia hawkers, and visitors from all over the country, Tatum is given multiple opportunities to shut it down and save Leo's life...but can he sacrifice his last chance to resurrect his journalistic career?

This one is so interesting. While very few of the main characters are really sympathetic, and much of the plot feels unconscionable, that's kind of the point. Tatum's character arc doesn't particularly make you like him, but it does hit you right in the gut—much like Lorraine's scissors. By the time Tatum comes face to face with what he's done, it's too late to redeem himself.

This is less a story about the dangers of journalistic irresponsibility or a cautionary tale than it is a story about conscience and consequences and the ways we all butt up against both in the pursuit of what we want (or what we think we want).

Ace in the Hole: Contemporary opinions vs. reappraisal

Like I said before, Ace in the Hole was originally panned by critics, and its box office performance didn't even cover its budget. Many reviewers were put off by the intensity of Kirk Douglas's performance, and even more were scandalized that a film would portray the American free press in such a negative light. 

Remember, though, that this was during the heyday of the Hays Code, and when a movie depicted characters and storylines that didn't fall neatly into the model of happy endings and evildoers facing punishment for their actions, public attitudes tended to be cool at best.

Modern evaluations of this film are strikingly different, with many now considering it to be one of writer-director Billy Wilder's most important pictures. Today's critics have praised Kirk Douglas's powerhouse performance and the acidity of the satire. They appreciate what contemporary audiences of Ace in the Hole just couldn't: that sometimes the bad guy doesn't redeem himself; sometimes endings are ambiguous; sometimes evil just triumphs, and maybe we're all a little bit to blame for that.

In conclusion

When I was a freshman in high school, my English teacher posed a question to us: What development of the past fifty years has most changed the way we live our lives? We all had different answers. I don't remember what mine was, but I remember what my teacher's was: the twenty-four-hour news cycle.

In a lot of meaningful ways, he was right. Things move so fast now, so constantly, that we no longer have the luxury of tuning out for the day, or else we feel that we risk missing something. More importantly, however, in a twenty-four-hour news cycle, everything—from a declaration of war right down to how the press secretary announcing the declaration batted her eyelashes—becomes fodder for a story. Every angle of every moment has to be reported on by every outlet that doesn't want to risk being deemed "irrelevant."

In this media landscape, the messaging of Ace in the Hole is more urgent than it's ever been. We are so inundated with the noise of constant "news" that it can be difficult to determine what's actually important. What deserves our attention, and what can we discard as insignificant? 

The stage is set for the same kind of media circus Tatum engineered, and it's happening every day. The difference is that we don't need to be there ourselves—we have YouTube and TikTok and a dozen other apps that allow us to be on the scene without leaving our homes. The "big carnival" is a daily occurrence, and I don't know about you, but it's sucking the life out of me.

This film is a must-see for anyone who wants to unplug for an hour and a half and put some distance between themselves and the noise in order to face up to some important questions. You won't regret it.