The Vietnam War rages, President Nixon presides, and a little “local family” newspaper struggles to keep up with the times--The New York Times, that is. The Washington Post is owned by meek, if well-meaning Katharine “Kay” Graham (Meryl Streep), placed in charge after her father and husband’s deaths. The tables are turned, pages are turned, when a former U.S. government worker leaks as many as 7,000 pages of sensitive “Pentagon Papers” that reveal what four presidents kept from the public. The Times publishes the shattering story, and when it faces a historic showdown in court about the true allowances of the First Amendment, the Post is faced with a decision when those same files land on their desk.

Film posters were billed with two names: Streep and Hanks. For most people, that’s enough. Anyone living somewhere above, next to, or even on top of a rock in the last few decades will recognize the two living legends who take the film by storm. They’re seamless, parlaying the film’s more sensitive tones as friends, peers, and, eventually, gatekeepers of a buried truth. The U.S. knew it could not win the Vietnam War for years and years, knew the effort was a waste of American dollars and bodies, yet refused to give up to save face. Tom Hanks plays Ben Bradlee, a dynamic editor at the Post, who is relentless in his conviction that this terrible truth must ring free.

But it’s not that simple. Kay Graham inherited the newspaper, and many see her as little more than a pleasant benefactor of nepotism. One of the scenes that will frustrate any female audience is when she confronts a score of bankers, all who have offered to buy shares when the Post goes public, and thus buoy the company’s falling sales. When asked a question, Kay has all the information before her, the answers bolded and underlined. But she can’t speak. After that minute, she’s overlooked. And even when she gives the answer to a different issue, it’s the other person piping up to repeat her who’s recognized. Quietly, even unknowingly battling the socializing pressures of being a woman in the 1970’s, and at the top of an elite American aristocracy that enables the dogma women need not work anyway, a great deal of the film follows the arc of Kay’s development of self, gratifyingly and intelligently, fulfilled by the nuances of Streep’s brilliant acting. Kay represents the Post, and so has the most to lose when she must decide whether or not they publish. Writing a story on the Pentagon papers could result in criminal charges, incarceration, and for the legacy of Kay’s family, ruin. The newspaper’s story, in every sense of the word, is hers.

While Streep and Hanks made headlines for their first onscreen collaboration (which seems odd, as one realizes they’ve never yet co-starred, given their equally rich and now-classic repertoires), what is less mentioned is that Steven Spielberg also directed the movie. Even less mentioned is that newcomer Elizabeth Hannah wrote the script, with collaboration from Spotlight writer Josh Singer. Hannah cites reading Kay’s memoirs first fascinated about the story, and the woman who so often felt invisible in her life. Working once more cinematographer Janusz Kaminski, Spielberg and Kaminski craft a beautiful film. They work meticulously through frames, focusing on the details; the old-style printers, metal stamps chinked into place, fresh printed press winding up machinery.

Never rampant with gaudy music or ridiculously excessively period dialogue, the film is also an adept political thriller that operates at the height of suspense. It’s approachable by anyone fuzzy on the facts about the scandal (or, as previewed by the epilogue, the Watergate scandal), simply because emotions run high at the right moments. President Nixon rants, as a silhouette through the window, about how he’s been wronged. Protesters swell into masses when the story is printed. An especially electrifying moment is when Ben throws down one paper, and another, again, again, and again, of different newspapers that have followed the Post, showing solidarity for truth over lies.

The film operates in olive-saturated tones, but it’s still distinctly modern. Streep and Hanks, two of the most well-known American actors, confront a truly American dilemma. The United States has historically prioritized its people; the “free speech” amendment holding first place of the Bill of Rights only emphasizes the fact. In another country, perhaps, there would be no debate on whether or not newspapers could continue printing if it threatened the government. They’d be shut down, people punished. And now, as the Trump administration battles the media, facts are belittled, distorted, or frankly shredded apart--this film is essential. While the medium of the news may have evolved since, the journalists and reporters and correspondents who ensure truth is heard are true American heroes. As Kay’s husband once said, the news is like history’s “first rough draft.” With this film, history is made.