In college, friends and I would share information; when disputed, it was always enough for us to cite our sources with a simple “read* it somewhere.” This made it fact. Such was the trust we placed in texts and in journalism (of course, false issues of school newspapers started to break this trust we had). With the surge and spread of Mr. Gore’s invention, information is much more readily accessible, as is misinformation (the irony of where you are reading this is not lost on me). Given the lax standards of society today, with Oscars¿ being given to films with manufactured scenarios which call themselves documentaries and Dan Rather following false leads, the verbal exchange of “Read* it somewhere,” followed with the reply “Fact!” has as much relevance as trying to establish street-cred calling a law enforcement officer a “copper” “g-man” or “smokey.” Is it any surprise then that a film based on a true story might have more emotional-informational weight with me than the highest grossing documentary of all time?

I still have some inherent trust in journalists. If I read something in a newspaper or periodical that purports to be true, I tend to believe the facts. Of course, the skeptic in me questions the way facts are presented, but I like to try and sift through the filter of presentation and see facts, at least for what they are an honest representation of. Imagine someone like me, but with a greater desire for political information and commentary. Imagine that they enjoy reading the same periodicals that are read aboard Air Force One and by pundits, lawmakers and all manner of political movers and shakers. Imagine if they discovered that the material they read has been falsified to various degrees. Imagine if they were told that they had read lies, that people quoted and places visited did not exist. Imagine being a reader of The New Republic in June of 1998. That is when the editors of this prestigious publication had to admit that one of their rising star writers had manufactured parts or wholes of many of his written credits.

This dramatized account of Stephen Glass and his lies had me riveted. Hayden Christensen, who previously has stunk as young Vader, was quite convincing as the charming, all-too-likeable and all-too-wanting-to-be-liked journalist. Watching his story unfold was akin to watching a version of All the President’s Men that Richard Nixon would have executive produced. Why did Glass manufacture his reports? Exciting stories sell. Why should we be concerned with what Marilyn Manson has to do with the Columbine shootings? He’s one cool cat. Who cares what he had to say close after the fact if he was actually interviewed on camera years later? Was everything true in Shattered Glass? Probably not, but my own retroactive research indicates enough was factual for my satisfaction. See this film if you’re at all intrigued by the concept of our media lying to us. Or don’t. These are my opinions, they are not facts.

*due to the homographic nature of this word, it should be noted that it is used here in the past tense.

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