In describing the night when legendary broadcast journalist Edward R. Murrow took on Sen. Joseph McCarthy, Joseph Persico writes in his biography, "Edward R. Murrow: An American Original":

"The man the viewers saw on the screen looked like a casting director's idea of exactly what he had been, a famous war correspondent, strikingly handsome, but without the pretty-boy Hollywood perfection."

That serves as a spot-on description of actor George Clooney, the director of "Good Night, and Good Luck."

But Persico's description is not too far off in nailing the appeal of actor David Strathairn, who embodies Murrow in Clooney's masterfully measured, moving and wounding film about the historic brawl between two men of extraordinary power who represented two different visions of the American ideal.

One man stood for liberty, integrity and compassion.

The other would be revealed as starkly lacking in those qualities.

McCarthy learned during his re-election campaign that exploiting fear in anxious days of the Cold War was an incredibly effective power tool. In 1950, he asserted in a speech at a Republican women's club in Wheeling, W.V., that there were 205 "known communists" (a fabrication) in the State Department. From then until the mid-'50s, McCarthy stoked what appeared to be a flickering political career by accusing people in high places - or modest, it didn't matter - of being communists, subversives, traitors.

Shot in sumptuous black-and- white, there is little black and white about the ideas - or emotions - expressed in this handsome work, written by Clooney and Grant Heslov. Yet as stylish as "Good Night, and Good Luck" is, its nostalgic luster is a ruse.

This film's contemporary resonance is deafening - and maybe, just a bit heartbreaking. As Murrow and his staff head for their showdown with McCarthy, longtime Murrow reporter Joe Wershba (Robert Downey Jr.) says to wife Shirley (Patricia Clarkson) "What if we're wrong?" It's moment of astounding vulnerability and doubt.

As for Murrow, he held his ground, with a cigarette burning in his hand and without the bluster of his foe or the patina of certainty so common today.

Born in Polecat Creek, N.C., Murrow became famous for his radio broadcasts from England during World War II. When he arrived at CBS, he and producer Fred Friendly turned the successful "Hear It Now," into television's first newsmagazine show, "See It Now."

On the night of March 9, 1954, Murrow offered the nation a "See It Now" segment about the methods employed by the junior senator from Wisconsin. Clooney and his cast make what could be static gripping.

Few people had taken on McCarthy, and while Murrow was not the first to question the senator, challenging him had never seemed effective. Once the senator made a splash with his accusations in the press, the rebuttals never seemed as juicy or newsworthy. When someone parried with the facts, McCarthy feinted with an accusation of treason.

One of the inventive choices Clooney makes here was to cast McCarthy as McCarthy. Like Murrow did in his telecast, Clooney uses footage of the senator at hearings to make his point.

If there was a match that lit Murrow's fuse it came when the Air Force discharged Lt. Milo Radulovich for being a "security risk." When Murrow begins to pursue a report on Radulovich, he's told "this isn't McCarthy."

"Isn't it?" he replies.

Frank Langella plays William Paley, longtime chairman of CBS. His is nearly as vital a role as Strathairn's. After all, Paley represents the bedeviling reality of television's will to entertain, inform and make many an advertising buck doing it.

On the night of the McCarthy broadcast, Paley calls Murrow. What he says may make tears well up. But you'll have to dry them when you recall that the film opens with Murrow chastising his broadcast colleagues at a fete given him during the 1958 Radio and Television Directors Association gathering. 

Clearly, Clooney, who plays Friendly, loves television - or at least its complex history.

His directorial debut, "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind" was an engaging, uneven plunge into the manic genius of Chuck Barris, the game-show creator who claimed in his memoir to be a CIA hitman.

"Confessions" was essentially a lark. In "Good Night, and Good Luck," Clooney makes an elegant argument that something of vital interest is still at stake in this story. It would take a stubborn soul to disagree.


*** 1/2 | "Good Night, and Good Luck"

PG for sexual dialogue|1 hour, 30 minutes|HISTORY LESSON|Directed by George Clooney; written by Clooney and Grant Heslov; photography by Robert Elswit; starring David Strathairn, Robert Downey Jr., Patricia Clarkson, Ray Wise, Frank Langella, Jeff Daniels, Clooney, Dianne Reeves|Opens today at the Esquire.