George Orwell famously defined a journalist as the act of “printing what someone else does not want printed; everything else is public relations”, which is not only a great example of the esteemed writer’s wit, but an oddly prescient statement that was made as both an observation of the era in which he lived, and a cautionary warning for the future. I’ve long been fascinated by the men and women who choose to build their entire careers around the act of recording history as it happens – these are the people who often define the world, since without them, the heinous actions of those in power would often be entirely overlooked, as the public is only aware of what we are told, whether by those with authority or the fearless individuals who make it their life’s mention to inform their fellow citizens of the world in which they reside. Laura Poitras and Mark Obenhaus are incredible artists who have spent years pursuing their own individual interests in non-fiction filmmaking, collectively covering dozens of fascinating subjects. However, the first official collaboration relates to both of their interests, which is a portrait of Seymour M. Hersh, a name many may not know, but those who do recognise it will know exactly why he is such a fascinating and controversial figure. For over half a century, Hersh (or “Sy” as he is affectionately known by both professional colleagues and personal acquaintances) has been dedicated to delivering the truth to the public, with his most notable contributions to the culture being the role he played in covering the My Lai massacre, in which over a hundred Vietnamese people (including men, women and children) were brutally slaughtered by American troops, as well as events such as Watergate and the Abu Ghraib torture scandal. Through each of these, Hersh did what he could to provide thorough, meaningful coverage, making use of anonymous sources to unearth the most explicit and truthful information, and liaising with some of the most powerful people in the country to become one of the foremost voices of his generation as far as journalism goes. It’s an astonishing piece of cinema, and one that is not only educational but also outright inspiring, even at its most intentionally bleak and harrowing, providing insights into the mind of a truly complex individual and the many methods he employed to perfect his craft, as well as the aftermath of his efforts to reveal the truth.

Considering this is their first collaboration, it’s helpful to situate both directors within their interests as far as we can see. Obenhaus has cast quite a wide net, covering several subjects on both film and television, with a particular fascination with history. Poitras, conversely, is regularly cited as one of the most gifted documentarians of her generation, the filmmaker behind some of the most insightful and meaningful glimpses into contemporary society. Their pairing in the creation of Cover-Up was clearly a good fit, since Obenhaus brings his knowledge of the era, as well as his fascination with Hersh (who he has been courting to appear in a film for over twenty years, according to the subject himself), and Poitras her nuanced approach to exploring how history is often defined by certain intrepid individuals, especially living in an era driven by surveillance and a kind of quiet paranoia that we cannot overlook. This leads to a film that is genuinely challenging and provocative, starting as a portrait of a single journalist as he narrates his career, which is then used to incite conversation around his investigations as a whole, especially focusing on the events he covered and the various people and institutions that he interacted with along the way. There are conversations around secrecy, concealment and the power wielded by the elites, which is where we get the entire concepts of the “cover-up”, with the centrepiece of the film being the various attempts by powerful people – whether high-ranking military officers, media moguls or even the most senior members of government – to keep the truth out of reach of the public. Hersh is positioned as the intermediary, an essential voice that is situated between these two entities – he has the perspective of the public and the desire to know the truth, but also the connections of those with whom he is going up against, placing him in a precarious position and giving him both the strength to uncover these insidious plots, but also the responsibility to share it with others. Throughout Cover-Up, the directors show a man who has spent his life holding institutions accountable, allowing his ability to challenge authority to guide him in placing them under scrutiny and, as a result, bringing to light information that those in power most certainly would have preferred stay hidden.

There are ultimately two conceptual prongs that guide this film and make it such an enigmatic and challenging work. We’ve already outlined the fact that it is essentially a biographical account of Hersh’s life and career, showing the incredible work he has done over the past several decades. However, it would be foolish to view Cover-Up as merely a laudatory biographical story, since there is so much more lurking beneath the centre, which is where we see Poitras and Obenhaus transition from merely interviewers behind the camera to active investigators, using the subject’s work to unearth their own information and present a very precise image of reality. As an investigative work in itself, the film uses many familiar methods to not only examine Hersh’s life, but also the context, both historical and political, that linger behind the curtain. There is an extensive use of existing material – documents, archival material, surveillance footage and firsthand testimonies, both pre-existing and those drawn from interviews conducted specifically for this film. Armed with a wealth of material, the director position themselves in relation to what is being communicated by Hersh as he essentially stands his ground, never seeing himself as the subject of some celebration of his work, but rather an active participant in something that may be based around his life, but is far bigger and more intimidating than can be condensed into a singular portrait. A good documentarian is very similar to a decent journalist – they both have to position themselves as either observers or participants, which we would assume are mutually exclusive, but there is a spectrum, even if it is usually suggested that one shouldn’t attempt to blur the two positions together. This is what makes Cover-Up so intriguing, since it’s the collision between two parties: Hersh at one end of the table, Poitras and Obenhaus at the other. They engage in meaningful and respectful conversation, but never allow themselves to lose their authorial voice in the process, which makes for not only a more interesting biographical account of the subject’s career, but also leans into the underlying process of asking some ethical questions relating to consent, exposure and the potential exploitation of information.

What separates an arbitrary contributor from an anonymous source, and how relevant can a piece of information be when we don’t know where it comes from, and therefore can never truly know how much it can be trusted? This is where Hersh makes his most intriguing statements: the information he provides can be trusted because he himself has nothing but undying faith in the people who give it to him. Some bold claims are made throughout Cover-Up that we are forced to question – how convincing can its argument be when we aren’t sure of its authenticity or original intention? We all have an agenda, so why do we trust a particular voice when we know that bias is unavoidable? These questions are ultimately the foundation on which Poitras and Obenhaus build their central argument, which is a film that basically can be condensed into a socio-cultural odyssey based around the importance of evidence and reasoning as more than just journalistic concepts, but the cornerstone of a functioning society. Anyone who has ever spent time engaging with the media (whether professionally or in a more personal capacity) will know that it’s not only facts that are important, but the ideas that connect them together, which strengthen and define certain arguments. The question we should be asking is, at what point does it become appropriate to bring those connections to light? Inference without proof means very little, but it’s not worth sacrificing the safety or reputation of those fighting for a more transparent world for the sake of a scoop. Cover-Up is a film about journalistic integrity, but it doesn’t shy away from the fact that this is an industry rife with scandal itself – the very notion that a truly objective journalist can exist is quickly dismissed, since even someone like Hersh, who has the best interests of the public at heart, views the world through a very particular lens. He withholds certain facts – some purely based on a pragmatic decision, others to spin a particular narrative, which is not nearly as unscrupulous as it sounds, but it does tend to be a conversation that needs to be had to understand what this film is saying. Even the idea that a photograph is an objective source is questioned, since while what we see depicted may be honest, the circumstances around its existence (especially the context in which it exists) are often not clear. Make no mistake: Poitras and Obenhaus are exceptionally reverent of Hersh, and respect him immensely, but they don’t intend to just craft a meaningless tribute, choosing to challenge and provoke him to truly understand his perspective. Mercifully, they find someone who is not afraid to tussle with them, leading to a film that makes exceptional use of slow revelations and repetition to underline the skepticism, outrage and burden of knowledge that define this profession, and make it so extraordinarily important.

They often say that history is written by the victors, and while this is indeed true to an extent, Cover-Up proves the invaluable role that journalists play in establishing a clear picture of reality, one that is often at odds with society and its conventions, but undeniably important. By the time we reach the end of the film, it becomes clear that Hersh is nothing if not an essential voice in 20th century media, and someone whose efforts to deliver the truth to the public is ongoing – a scene late in the film finds him talking with an anonymous source about the ongoing genocide in Gaza, a subject that he is actively working to cover, proving that he still has a firm grasp on the cultural pulse, and that he remains a steadfast advocate for the truth, against all odds. Unfortunately, this film is limited in its own ways, and it openly acknowledges that it is essentially an oversimplification of the subject – it’s frankly impossible to compress Hersh’s life and career into only two hours, and there will always be some degree of ideological uncertainty and narrative gaps between the discussions. However, the film never positioned itself as anything other than a provocative examination of a man who has dedicated his life to the pursuit of the truth, putting both his well-being and reputation at risk for the sake of revealing the truth. It’s a challenging and provocative work that may not always follow a particular pattern, but is nonetheless still very valuable in the information that it provides. It’s an urgent and timely work, since journalists continue to be at the frontline, but as a result are usually the first targets of both physical and psychological attacks, designed to mute the potential outrage that will ensue should they be allowed to express themselves. There are few freedoms more important than that of free speech, and Cover-Up is a beautiful tribute to the people who have committed their lives to asking these challenging questions, bringing visibility to a profession that is entirely built around the desire to reveal the truths, regardless of the cost. One of the year’s most brilliant, engaging and important documentaries, Poitras and Obenhaum pay tribute to an incredible figure, and in the process turn in one of the year’s best films.