Dial File -- Steve Bornfeld: Who needs truth? We have entertainment

Steve Bornfeld is the Sun features editor. His television column appears Fridays.m

Once more we ask:

Is it real or is it Hollywood?

Damn good, if unoriginal, question, this time referring to "The Insider" (see Roger Ebert's review, page 5C).

But perhaps the better questions are:

Do we care anymore? Does it matter anymore? Should the distinctions between truth and fantasy disintegrate without debate as long as the overriding concern of our consumer culture -- entertainment -- is addressed?

If that sounds like Mike Wallace challenging America on any given Sunday night to the beat of the tick ... tick... tock ... of the "60 Minutes" clock, it isn't coincidental.

Wallace says he's been walloped in "The Insider," the new thriller, opening today, that stars Al Pacino and Christopher Plummer as, respectively, "60 Minutes" producer Lowell Bergman and the pugnacious Wallace, TV journalism's most noble pest.

(A disclaimer: This viewer did not see a preview of "The Insider." Although, given that this viewer would willingly watch Pacino read the obit page from an old issue of Grave Digger's Monthly in the middle of a Newark, N.J., garbage dump during a February blizzard as Armageddon approached, it's a safe bet to be viewed posthaste.)

The film reportedly tells the now-infamous tale of the show's struggle to air the charges of scientist Jeffrey Wigand (Russell Crowe), who claimed that his company, Brown & Williamson Tobacco, knowingly added cancer-causing chemicals to its cigarettes.

Under orders from CBS legal eagles, "60 Minutes" only broadcast an edited version of the interview that omitted most of Wigland's most damning accusations. Wallace initially concurred with the decision, but radically reversed his stance the next day, triggering a confrontation of titans.

And now that the cause celebre is on celluloid, the pest is peeved. "Where does the truth leave off and docudrama begin?" he rhetorically asked USA Today, noting that in the film, he is portrayed, as the newspaper puts it, as "caving to corporate pressure (initially not airing the story) and being more concerned about his legacy than the truth."

Wallace further fumes: "Have you ever heard me invoke the word 'legacy'? That is utter bull----. You don't talk about my legacy. You talk about the legacy of the president of the United States or Albert Einstein. I've heard it takes me six weeks to finally find my moral compass (in the movie). I worked for a long time to develop a reputation for accuracy and fairness, and I'm offended."

Indeed, the New York Times reports that CBS News President Andrew Heyward issued an internal memo stating: "From the outset, Mike was fighting with all the means at his disposal to get his interview with Wigland on the air. Far from accepting the company line, Mike was vociferous and public in his campaign and in his criticism of his own corporate bosses."

The irony is as subtle as one of Wallace's patented harangues: The man who perfected the art of the ambush in the interest of facts complains that he's been ambushed in the interest of fiction.

Ya gotta feel for a guy who considers himself a real-life bulldog reduced to a reel-life lapdog.

But the question of whether it's an unfair portrayal matters less than the questions of ... does it matter at all to anyone but Wallace and others directly involved? Should it? And if it doesn't -- why doesn't it?

The answers, in order: Probably not. Yes. Because truth matters less than entertainment these days.

Of course the usual excuses, regularly invoked to defend artists who attempt to carve art out of news, apply to "The Insider":

The last time we witnessed this kind of fuss at this kind of pitch was the release of Oliver Stone's "JFK," which offered the conspiracy-addled director's frenzied vision of the assassination in such far-flung terms that it almost seemed plausible that Jackie did it.

Hey, they're only movies, right? It's only pop culture -- not bona fide history -- right?

Right. And wrong.

Like it or not, pop culture has become history's stand-in.

Granted, pop culture has always fiddled with facts for the sake of art. Back in 1939, Henry Fonda inspired a nation as "Young Mr. Lincoln" in what was surely a flaw-free, less-than-honest depiction of Honest Abe. And while growing up this columnist relished the vivid, if clearly fanciful, "historical novels" of Gore Vidal.

But, powered by onrushing technology that has exponentially increased both our ability and our desire to be entertained at an equally breathless clip, pop culture -- largely movies and television -- has assumed an outsized, and misleading, importance in our cultural life.

By sheer ubiquity and volume, pop culture has become our skewed national truth, playing to a nation that seems to crave -- or is force-fed -- stimulation of the senses over stimulation of the brain.

Movies occasionally claim to serve up truth, but it's tucked deep within a dazzling array of noisy special effects, witty dialogue, stirring background music and narrative theatrics. Television supposedly serves up truth with "reality" shows, carefully edited down to selective reality, and with ongoing coverage of breaking news (think Columbine or JFK Jr.'s plane crash), in which supposition by hyped-up reporters, given the absence of immediately available facts, makes for terrific cliff-hanging TV.

It's all very entertaining.

And that leaves the print press -- which, despite its sizable flaws, still struggles to frame news within facts and present it in context -- as the quaint spoilsport that keeps nagging about accuracy.

Such was the scenario when "JFK" bowed in 1991 and a frightening number of moviegoers -- mostly younger ones who weren't born when the president was murdered and were since raised on the persuasive power of pop culture -- were convinced that Stone's flick was fact instead of the artful assumption it was.

Which brings us back to "The Insider," which, for many young moviegoers who probably didn't pore over the newspaper accounts when the whole affair erupted, is based on some vague conflict between CBS, "60 Minutes" and some tobacco company.

But not to worry -- the movie will fill us in on how it really went down.

And whaddaya wanna bet it's entertaining, too?

Croon a Tune: The theme, Las Vegas, was "Dallas," the show that gave us that King of Charismatic Creeps, J.R. Ewing. It was identified by bed-hopin', back-stabbin', double-dealin', scruples-free (and we mean this in the nicest way) Croon-a-Tuners Robin Skelley, Joe Lacy, Kristin North, Penelope Wells and Augie Kunkel.

Ol' J.R. would be proud, darlins.

And in typical J.R. fashion, we're changing the rules on a whim this week, Crooners. Call 259-4012 (it will pick up after four rings) and hear the instantly identifiable tune. This week's question isn't the name of the tune -- it's the name of the singer. Identify who the pipes in question belong to for this theme -- which was instrumental for years until this performer gave it voice -- and score a heartfelt salute, Dial File style.

And it don't get more stylish than that, chum.

Closing credits: Those intrepid investigative reporters over at FX miss nothing. Proving that Woodward and Bernstein were rank amateurs, here's the FX muckrakers blowing the lid off the latest startling discovery they've made about life here in Pure-As-The-Driven-Snow Las Vegas, in a special airing today at midnight:

"FX's first original special, 'Lust in Las Vegas,' presents a candid, hard-hitting 90-minute documentary about Las Vegas' second-biggest industry after gambling -- sex!

"The documentary lets the people involved in the industry tell the story, from prostitutes working in nearby brothels to swingers having group sex in the city's sex clubs to topless dancers performing at casino stage shows. The documentary also covers Vegas' notorious annual adult video convention, showing how pervasive this subculture of society has become!"

Gloriasky! Does the gang at the malt shop know about this?

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