On a cold February morning in New York, a crowd gathered outside the Winter Garden Theatre, where flashbulbs popped as George Clooney stepped before the marquee bearing his image in stark black and white. He braved the chill to make a special announcement: he would soon make his Broadway debut in an adaptation of Good Night, and Good Luck, the film he co-wrote and directed nearly two decades ago. Standing at his side was his longtime collaborator Grant Heslov, likewise eager to bring the story of legendary newsman Edward R. Murrow to the stage.
To understand why this adaptation matters, rewind to March 9, 1954. Millions of Americans, living in a climate of pervasive anti-Communist suspicion, switched on their flickering black-and-white TVs to watch See It Now, a CBS news program hosted by Murrow. That evening, Murrow dedicated the entire broadcast to one man: Senator Joseph McCarthy, architect of a fear-fueled crusade against alleged Communist sympathizers. Archival clips showed McCarthy’s bullying tactics and shifting accusations, while Murrow narrated with measured resolve. This moment would become a watershed in the fight against demagoguery—a calm, reasoned voice challenging a tide of national paranoia.
Murrow’s closing words, “We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty,” resonated across the country. Letters and calls flooded CBS in a fifteen-to-one ratio of support to criticism. Within months, President Eisenhower grew emboldened to rein in McCarthy, and the United States Senate ultimately censured him. Murrow’s example proved that a journalist, armed with facts and integrity, could confront political terror and win. In every sense, this story transcends history, revealing how personal courage can shape the broader course of a democracy.
Move forward to 2025: the showdown between Murrow and McCarthy is reborn on Broadway. Clooney and Heslov, who garnered acclaim for the 2005 film, have transformed their screenplay into a theatrical production under the guidance of Tony Award–winning director David Cromer. Whereas Clooney played Murrow’s producer Fred Friendly in the movie, he now steps into Murrow’s own shoes. It’s a full-circle moment that taps into his enduring fascination with one of the twentieth century’s defining journalistic crusades.
In a press conference announcing the show, Clooney underscored the story’s contemporary relevance. Amid an era beset by “fake news” and partisan echo chambers, he believes Murrow’s steadfast ethics offer a clarion call. “It’s not just about the 1950s,” Clooney said. “It’s about how we use media to hold power accountable, right now.”
Although Clooney carries top billing, the ensemble surrounding him brings the CBS newsroom of 1954 powerfully to life. Ilana Glazer, best known for her comedic flair in Broad City, debuts on Broadway as Shirley Wershba, one of Murrow’s dedicated colleagues. Carter Hudson portrays her husband, fellow reporter Joe Wershba, illustrating the very human stakes behind the headlines. Meanwhile, Glenn Fleshler takes on the steady presence of Fred Friendly, and Clark Gregg, known from Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., embodies embattled CBS anchor Don Hollenbeck. Towering above them all—both literally and metaphorically—stands Paul Gross as William Paley, the network executive torn between journalistic principle and economic pragmatism.
Their onstage chemistry echoes the real-life teamwork that was pivotal to Murrow’s success. Much like Murrow’s 1954 broadcast, every character has a role to play in exposing McCarthy’s tactics and defending the sanctity of a free press. For many cast members, it is also a personal milestone: several will be making their Broadway debuts, forging a bond reminiscent of that tight-knit newsroom.
Director David Cromer is known for immersive storytelling, and here he collaborates with an award-winning creative team to convert the Winter Garden Theatre’s vast space into a smoky, clacking newsroom. Scenic designer Scott Pask has crafted a meticulously detailed 1950s set, complete with bulky vintage cameras, typewriters, and banks of lights that flicker like old broadcast monitors. In some scenes, actual news clips of Senator McCarthy are projected onto a towering screen, so the “voice of McCarthy” appears in chilling authenticity rather than via an actor’s approximation.
Costume designer Brenda Abbandandolo uses subdued tones of charcoal, navy, and brown to reflect the era’s office attire, while dialect coach Gigi Buffington ensures the cast mirrors the crisp, slightly Mid-Atlantic accents of mid-century broadcast journalists. Add a few red “On Air” lights, a haze of herbal cigarette smoke, and the hum of period music, and you have an immersive time capsule of America’s golden age of TV news—an era that, for all its nostalgic charm, was rife with personal and political risk.
Part of Good Night, and Good Luck’s enduring appeal lies in its subtle demonstration of how small, focused acts of bravery can reverberate across a nation. This production zooms in on Murrow’s pivotal broadcast to illustrate the potent impact of fearless journalism. The team also highlights the play’s parallels to modern-day challenges. In a moment when polarized media ecosystems threaten public discourse, Murrow’s ethical approach underscores the value of verifiable facts and civil debate. Is it not the role of the press, they ask, to shine a spotlight on abuses of power rather than serve as a sounding board for them?
When the curtain rises on March 12, 2025, audiences at the Winter Garden Theatre will experience a heady blend of historical drama and urgent contemporary relevance. For two hours, they’ll witness how a handful of journalists dared to speak truth to power in a time of national anxiety. In the final act, Clooney’s Murrow might once again turn to the camera—this time facing the house—and utter that famous parting line: “Good night, and good luck.” Spoken in 1954, those words rallied a weary nation to stand against fear. Heard in 2025, they urge us to remember that the fight for factual clarity and moral conviction remains ongoing.
It’s this timeless resonance that makes Good Night, and Good Luck on Broadway more than a historical retelling. It illuminates a fundamental truth about the human condition: that in the face of intimidation and looming authoritarianism, the courage to speak up is often our strongest defense. As the final applause echoes, theatergoers may find themselves stepping into a New York night that feels oddly familiar—reminded that the lessons of history are not mere relics but living calls to action.
