he 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich, West Germany is in progress, with ABC Sports recapping some of the highlights via archival footage. But something shocking is about to overshadow the entirety of this quadrennial event. Though many movies have been made about this specific tragedy, never before has one utilized the perspective of the news team so pointedly, going to great lengths to scrutinize in-depth technical components and the specificities of the press as they strive to cover a breaking story of such gravity.

From the sets to the clothing/styling to the vehicles (and other props, such as outdated computers, spools of film, and the darkroom developing of photographs) to the cinematography, “September 5” captures the look of the era with a distinct documentary feel (the lens often observes characters as if a voyeur, peeking through windows and peering around bits of scenery). In many ways, this approach can be credited to the success of “Spotlight,” which breathed new life into crafting a picture with understated, ultra-realistic, grounded designs and techniques. Because of this attention to unfolding dramas rather than over-the-top or even just fervent acting, the individuals here aren’t as significant as the plot; the way the film is shot is essentially the star. Roone (Peter Sarsgaard) supervises, Marvin (Ben Chaplin) runs things, Geoff (John Magaro) takes over when needed, and Marianne (Leonie Benesch) translates, but the thrill of a developing news scoop remains most pertinent. “It’s not about politics. It’s about emotions.”

As the ABC Sports division goes through the routines of Olympic coverage (including technical difficulties), gunshots ring out in the early morning hours – the onset of a hostage situation in the Israeli quarters of the Olympic Village, where the deaths of competitors and coaches are about to be reported. Curiously, these initial moments of the famous terrorist attack (perhaps a spoiler for those unaware of the historical events) are quite chilling, despite none of the actual violence or action being recreated onscreen. Instead, particularly with the slowness with which information spreads in a world without internet connections and cell phones, tension builds from the unknowns; audiences know as little as the news crew, who must fight their way into better camera positions and eavesdrop with police scanners to garner clues as they assemble techs, anchors, reporters, helicopter capabilities, and satellite access to keep live coverage on the air. “The games must go on.”

While guerrilla fighter demands are detailed, murders are confirmed, and general chaos escalates, viewers remain only as informed as the characters onscreen, who intently glue themselves to radio reports and walkie-talkie chatter to piece together relevant information. Everything tends to become clearer through descriptions rather than reenactments; the lack of visualized revelations is akin to audiences’ own deprivation of the most sensational components. In this unique depiction of the 1972 attack, almost all intelligence is second-hand. And there’s definitely an artistry to putting together not just a broadcast, but also this viewpoint, as the language/captions used must be precise, the commentary must draw people in, and the technical elements – from station logos to prerecorded interviews to magnified photos – must be ready to go at the push of a button (or the flick of a lever). “Can we show someone being shot on live television?”

Since the movie isn’t interested in portraying the gruesome horrors or the nerve-wracking location changes, it brings about a compelling question for the industry as a whole: what is the motivation in reporting? As some characters insist, it’s about presenting facts to the public. But in the course of this swift, almost experimental exercise in uncommon contexts (it’s unfortunate that the smallness of the film will likely prevent it from having much reach), the media appears driven by ratings, what the competition is doing (being first is paramount, facts be damned), and the value of sizable, widespread viewership. When it’s suggested that ABC’s own videos might be aiding the terrorists and thwarting the authorities, the participants are only momentarily dumbstruck before switching to incredulity; surely the press couldn’t be making the situation worse. In the end, it’s both a fascinating look at the behind-the-scenes inner-workings of a monumental broadcast and a potent, timeless (and timely) indictment of how the news media haven’t had fully righteous, apolitical, ethical, or neutral intentions for far more decades than contemporary audiences may have assumed.

– Mike Massie