I always have trouble seperating my reaction to this film from its patently dishonest pose as a docu-drama, as well as the insufferable results it had in propagating the worst kinds of yahoo conspiracy theories. And I don’t think I should try, because the weakness of the approach is built into the film. In trying so hard to convince us its stretches of reality are certifiable truth, it blows it chances of being what ought to be, fundamentally, a study in the ambiguity of visual evidence. Instead, it’s just a three-hour version of the rant of a socialist book store owner. The narrative dissolves in the overlong and stagy courtroom summary, and wounds beyond repair what had been up until then a textured, skilfully made paranoia epic. The acting is uniformly strong, featuring by far Kevin Costner’s best lead performance. Most notably, Stone’s ability as an orchestrator of images is undeniable – like The Doors, it’s a startling film to absorb as a visual experience, and so to is Talk Radio, in a more subtle way, for the care he takes with staging, lighting, editing. That his works usually end up such intellectually empty peanut shells is startling.