History often remembers the what, but September 5 is a film about the how. How did the world come to watch, in real time, one of the most horrifying acts of terrorism ever broadcast on live television? How did a network turn an unfolding hostage crisis into breaking news, balancing journalistic duty with the inherent sensationalism of the medium? And how did the people behind the cameras, forced to make split-second ethical decisions, reckon with the fallout of a tragedy they could only observe from a distance?
Tim Fehlbaum’s September 5 is a gripping historical drama that doesn’t just recount the 1972 Munich massacre—it dissects it through the eyes of the ABC Sports crew, whose job it was to cover an international spectacle of peace and unity, only to find themselves at the center of a nightmare. It’s a tense, nerve-wracking depiction of live television journalism under unimaginable pressure, bolstered by razor-sharp performances and an unflinching look at the ethical dilemmas that come with being first to report the news.
A Newsroom Under Siege
The film immerses us in the chaotic 24 hours when Palestinian militant group Black September took Israeli athletes hostage inside the Olympic Village. At first, the ABC Sports team, led by the pragmatic Roone Arledge (Peter Sarsgaard) and the ever-hungry control room chief Geoffrey Mason (John Magaro), approaches the event like any other breaking news story—an opportunity to capture history in real time.
As details emerge—gunfire in the village, failed negotiations, and desperate attempts at a rescue—the broadcast team pivots from Olympic pageantry to the grim reality of terrorism. Mason pushes for exclusive coverage, sending correspondents dangerously close to the action, while Arledge negotiates for better time slots to maximize viewership. Ben Chaplin’s Marvin Bader serves as the film’s moral compass, constantly reminding his colleagues that real lives—not just ratings—are at stake.
The tension escalates when the ABC crew realizes the terrorists are watching their own broadcast, inadvertently giving them intel on the German police’s failed rescue attempts. Yet even as armed officers storm into the control room demanding they cut the feed, Mason refuses. In his mind, they are documenting history—whether they should be is another question entirely.
The film’s climax is devastating: the failed hostage rescue at the Fürstenfeldbruck airfield. In a chilling sequence, ABC mistakenly reports that all hostages have been freed, only for the truth to come crashing down—every single one has been killed. The moment when Jim McKay is forced to correct the record on live television is gut-wrenching, and the realization that their eagerness to be first may have contributed to the chaos lingers like a ghost in the control room.
The Performances That Bring It to Life
Peter Sarsgaard is excellent as Roone Arledge, a man who understands both the power and responsibility of live television. His Roone isn’t a caricatured network executive chasing ratings; he’s intelligent, strategic, and, in his own way, deeply aware of the ethical tightrope he walks. John Magaro’s Geoffrey Mason, on the other hand, embodies the cold efficiency of news production—pragmatic, ambitious, and increasingly desensitized to the human cost of “the scoop.”
But it’s Ben Chaplin as Marvin Bader who delivers the film’s most crucial performance. As the voice of reason, Bader is the only one who seems genuinely disturbed by how his colleagues are turning tragedy into entertainment. His final confrontation with Mason, where he pleads for restraint and accuracy over speed, is one of the film’s most powerful moments.
Leonie Benesch, as Marianne, the German translator and field reporter, brings an outsider’s perspective to the drama. Her gradual realization that she, too, is complicit in the spectacle adds an emotional weight that extends beyond the ABC crew. Her final lament—that once again, Jewish lives have been lost on German soil while the world simply watched—is a hauntingly sobering note on which the film closes.
An Authentic Time Capsule
Fehlbaum and his team deserve credit for their meticulous recreation of the 1972 Munich Olympics and the ABC newsroom. September 5 is packed with archival footage seamlessly woven into the dramatized sequences, giving the film an almost documentary-like realism. The newsroom itself feels like a pressure cooker—phones ringing, cigarette smoke thick in the air, monitors flickering with grainy satellite feeds. The editing is sharp and urgent, mirroring the real-time decision-making that made this one of the most widely watched broadcasts in history.
The sound design is another highlight. The distant echo of gunfire in the Olympic Village, the frantic overlapping voices in the control room, the eerie silence that follows the first false report of the hostages’ release—it all adds to the suffocating sense of helplessness.
A Story That Still Resonates
What makes September 5 so compelling is that it’s not just about Munich—it’s about the way we consume news, the fine line between information and exploitation, and the responsibility of journalists in times of crisis. Nearly every major world event today—acts of terrorism, mass shootings, political upheavals—is broadcast in real time, often with the same ethical dilemmas that this film explores.
And while September 5 is undeniably gripping, it stops short of fully interrogating the long-term impact of that day. It presents the ethical quandaries but never quite forces its characters to reckon with them beyond the immediate moment. There’s a lingering question of what changed? Did Mason learn anything from his mistakes? Did Arledge ever feel genuine remorse? These are threads left slightly frayed, making the film feel like it ends just a touch too soon.
Final Verdict: A Thought-Provoking, Tense Historical Thriller
September 5 is a gripping, well-crafted dramatization of one of the darkest days in Olympic and television history. It’s a film that thrives on tension, driven by sharp performances and a keen understanding of newsroom dynamics. Fehlbaum doesn’t offer easy answers—there are none. Instead, he forces us to sit in the discomfort of knowing that, sometimes, history is made not just by those who take action, but by those who choose to watch.