When it comes to documenting America’s crimes against humanity, it seems there’s no one more at the forefront of breaking the news to the American public than Seymour Hersh. A journalist who goes by his own tune, willing to ostracize himself from institutional news, and ready to take any whispers of a tip hinting at a cover-up by his own federal government. Laura Poitras and Mark Obenhaus track not only Hersh’s career but also the man himself in Cover-Up, a documentary following a wary subject. He doesn’t trust anyone, not even the co-directors, as his career has shown him how easily he can be deceived by his willingness to trust others. Yet, Cover-Up is a damning, decisive portrait of tenacity and courage, at a time when valuable journalism seems so rare.
Much like Poitras’s previous works, such as Citizenfour (2014) and All The Beauty and The Bloodshed (2022), Cover-Up uses the format of focusing on a central personality figure intertwined in a corrupt, overwhelming force of wealth and power, abusing their positions of power, causing death and destruction to millions. Hersh fits right alongside Poitras’s subjects, like Edward Snowden and Nan Goldin, figures who speak truth to power by transgressive acts that threaten institutions of power. There’s an affable, admirable quality to Hersh as a prickly thorn to those who deserve it, and his charismatic personality makes for a sincere picture of a truth-teller bringing light to atrocities.
Cover-Up focuses on Hersh through the My Lai Massacre, which catapulted Hersh to infamy, as it tracks how he uncovered the government’s actions and war crimes in Vietnam. On March 16th, 1969, 100 soldiers led by Captain Ernest Medina took siege of Sơn Mỹ village, ordered to kill every inhabitant, leading to the deaths of hundreds of men, women, children, and babies on the pretext that this was a hub for the Viet Cong. Poitras and Obenhause don’t skimp on the savagery and horrifying details, as pictures of the aftermath and testimonies from soldiers detail the levels of barbarism and the unrelenting violence unleashed that calm morning.
Medina reported the operation as a battle with the Viet Cong and that civilian casualties were minimal. Yet Hersh received a tip from a government lawyer who was aware of the incident, indicating that the event labeled “Pinkville” on official documents was far more macabre and messy. Soon, Hersh connects with numerous veterans who participated in the conflict, which leads to more media attention and photographs from Ronald Haeberle, corroborating Hersh’s reporting. The film goes through archival interviews with the soldiers, including a Mike Wallace interview, in which a soldier casually and coldly talks about shooting dozens of civilians.
The story garnered global attention and outrage, sometimes painting Hersh as a Communist sympathizer and undermining American forces. It’s this dichotomy, which Poitras and Obenhaus identify as the tug-and-pull Hersh faces throughout his career as he uncovers numerous crimes and illegal acts by his government, clashing with a propagandized populace that doesn’t believe Hersh. It’s no different than Poitras’s portrait of Snowden being a whistleblower and a threat to national security.
Seymour Hersh looks back with both sadness and unwavering assurance that his reporting was needed and necessary, and there’s no hint of doubt that what he’s doing is important. He still can’t escape the horrors he’s been exposed to, which doesn’t stop at My Lia, as the film covers the wide range of stories he covered in the past.
The success led to his stint at the New York Times, where, in an effort to compete with Woodward and Bernstein’s investigation of the Watergate Scandal, Hersh sought to uncover the continued hush-money payments made to the burglars connected to Nixon’s re-election committee. The film isn’t without some moments of intended humor, as even Nixon laments Hersh’s formidable nature as a journalist, labeling him as a “son-of-a-bitch” from White House recordings. Indeed, a title Hersh proudly wears with a gleeful smile, as he recounts how he made so many people in power uncomfortable.
In tracking his career, the film allows more dimension, showing times when he’s failed as a journalist, such as using forged documents for his 1997 book, The Dark Side of Camelot, in which Hersh removed a chapter, alleging hush money between Marilyn Monroe and JFK. It’s a watershed moment for Hersh, one in which his frailty and imperfection in not doing a good enough job in vetting show more vulnerability.
Yet throughout these horrific crimes and reporting, Hersh remains charming, often endearing, through his sardonic personality and wit. Though he tries to minimize his presence in his reporting, he recognizes his unwavering commitment and direction have yielded him the reputation he’s garnered. It’s a symbolic gesture when detractors refute his reporting or he finds himself on the outs with institutions corrupt with media conglomerates, he finds an avenue that will accept his reporting, due to his previous achievements.
The directors cut back to present-day Hersh throughout the film, as he works as an independent journalist on Substack, which seems to be the only way to produce and publish the unvarnished truth. This includes several phone calls of the Israel-Gaza conflict, where he’s informed of more Gazan deaths involving women and children by IDF soldiers. It’s no different than the reports he’s read of American soldiers conducting the same actions. For Hersh, history has been repeating itself for as long as he’s been reporting it; the only way to take a moral stance is to represent the facts, as ugly and cruel as they appear to be.
Cover-Up is an incisive portrait of a man who was born to report state-sponsored crimes against the vulnerable. In an era where institutions have devalued journalism, billionaires censoring news programs, acquiring independent outlets, and appointing pro-zionists to lead CBS News (who’s published disinformation regarding children suffering a famine in Gaza), Hersh feels like a rarity; an institution of his own marbled from truth and history. As he nears the age of ninety, Hersh is still animated and vigorous as he was during the counter-revolution of the sixties, when there was some margin for hope and change, even with the specter of America’s crimes plaguing his conscience.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Feature Image Credit to Netflix via Film at Lincoln Center