2025
NYC
DATE:
05/02/25
SHOW & TELL
Good night,
AND Good Luck
WRITTEN BY:
TRISTAN MCALLISTER
George Clooney as CBS News presenter and journalist Edward R. Murrow. Source: Good Night & Good Luck
LONG STORY, SHORT:
We had the chance to see "Good Night, and Good Luck" on Broadway this week. The timing couldn’t have been better. This critically acclaimed revival of the story of the late CBS News journalist Edward R. Murrow, played by George Clooney, is a powerful meditation on mass media integrity, and a searing reminder that the fight over truth, power, and public trust never really ends.
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Show & Tell is an At Large series where we spotlight cultural moments, creative work, and media that hit a nerve—and unpack what they reveal about storytelling, power, and perception. It’s less about what's trending, more about what’s telling.
THE DEEP DIVE:
At curtain call, George Clooney is flanked by fellow cast members Fran Kranz (left), Glenn Fleshler (center left), and Ilana Glazer (right).
Set during the McCarthy era, the play follows Murrow as he challenges the government’s sweeping, often evidence-light accusations of communism. In his embodiment of Murrow, George Clooney captures both the moral clarity of Murrow's journalism and the institutional resistance he faced — from advertisers, from executives, and from a public growing more comfortable with distraction than confrontation.
If medium is the message, then Clooney's craft and his placement as the central device for telling Murrow's story are a clear call for people to wake up. After all, it's easier to get an audience to care about the core message of a narrative if the messenger/medium is one of the most famous men on the planet.
Clooney deftly navigates this privilege. The script is packed with dialogue around the character's concern that hard-hitting news is sandwiched between saccharin and upbeat commercials for beauty products. Many of these ads are shown in the theatre, as bookends for the staged news segments. As a member of the audience it's easy to feel overwhelmed, and even sad, when you realize that ads for items such as soap, hairspray, and aluminum are what pay for Murrow's summer house, his dissent of McCarthy, and ultimately what still pay for our media today.
Though it depicts the 1950s, the stage production feels painfully topical. Especially this week, as 60 Minutes’ longtime executive producer resigned amid backlash over reports that CBS leadership, including Shari Redstone, directed the network to withhold stories critical of Donald Trump until his administration approves a major merger involving CBS’s parent company.
Murrow’s fears — that media would slide into entertainment, that journalists would be pressured to appease power, that audiences would lose their appetite for uncomfortable truths — are playing out in real time.
Roy Cohn (right), sits next to Donald Trump (left). Source: Marilynn K. Yee / NYT / Redux
Even more ominous in the production is the presence of Roy Cohn, McCarthy’s right-hand man — a ruthless political operative who helped orchestrate many of these so-called "communist witch hunts." Cohn would go on to represent mob bosses and celebrities, but he’s perhaps most infamously known as the man who mentored Donald Trump, teaching him tactics of deflection, aggression, and never admitting fault. These principles would go on to shape American politics in profound and troubling ways.
Cohn’s name has appeared in numerous works of fiction (Angels in America & Fellow Travelers), documentary, and political exposé alike — always as a symbol of power without accountability. His legacy is one of influence that far outlasted McCarthyism.
THE AT LARGE TAKE:
Narrative work is never neutral
As people who work in storytelling, branding, and creative strategy, this one hits close. We're not journalists (well, a few of us at At Large started as journos), but we are stewards of narrative. The power of "Good Night, and Good Luck" comes from its relationship to culture, both the lived experience of audiences today and the not-so-distant history that shaped it. When storytelling honors both fact and context, it invites us to reflect on what was, reckon with what is, and imagine what could be.
We don't just shape messaging, we shape meaning
The stories we help organizations and institutions tell (and the ones they avoid) signal what they value and how they want to be seen. That act of shaping perception comes with responsibility, especially when silence or simplification might seem safer.
Trust isn’t a given — it’s a practice
The show makes clear that complicity can be quiet. And that credibility, once lost, is hard to recover.
This show isn’t just about history. It’s a cautionary tale about the present. It reminds us that power, left unchecked, will always try to script the story. The question is whether we’re brave enough to write a different one.