Every so often, a film comes along that doesn’t just recount a story—it revives it, pulling you in and making the past feel urgent, alive, and impossible to look away from. That’s why I’ve carved out this corner of my website, to step away from the roar of the stadium and into the quieter, more introspective places where art meets life. Just like the Dylan movie, September 5th was on my radar the moment I saw the trailer. Having watched the tragic events of that day unfold in realtime as a 12 year old, and been part of tributes to the slain athletes at the Maccabi Games I now coach at, this was a must-see for me. Some stories aren’t just history; they’re personal.
Against the backdrop of the 1972 Munich Olympics, September 5 tells the story of the ABC sports team’s dramatic shift from reporting on athletic achievements to covering the breaking news of Israeli athletes held hostage.What starts as your standard highlight-reel gig quickly turns into a front-row seat to history, with a global audience of nearly a billion people watching the story unfold in real time. At the center of the storm is Geoff Mason (John Magaro), a scrappy young producer desperate to impress his boss, the iconic Roone Arledge (played by Peter Sarsgaard). Flanked by his sharp German interpreter Marianne (Leonie Benesch) and grizzled mentor Marvin Bader (Ben Chaplin), Geoff is suddenly calling the shots on coverage that shifts from rumors to revelations by the second. With lives hanging in the balance and the clock ticking, he finds himself making decisions that test not just his professional instincts, but his sense of right and wrong.
Geoffrey Mason wasn’t exactly a household name on September 5, 1972, but he was about to become a pivotal figure in sports broadcasting history—and not by choice. Barely into his 30s, Mason was a control-room producer at the Munich Olympics when the world abruptly turned its focus from gold medals to masked terrorists. It was a day when the Olympic spirit collided head-on with global tragedy, and Mason found himself in the nerve center of it all. Talk about getting thrown into the deep end without a life jacket.
An unknown number of Israeli athletes had been taken hostage by Black September terrorists in the Olympic Village. Mason, along with ABC Sports' crack team, was tasked with deciding what the world would see and when. Just a few innocent lives, the ethics of media, and the dawn of real-time news coverage were hanging in the balance. No pressure.
In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Mason reflected on that whirlwind 22-hour stretch in a control room that felt more like a war zone than a broadcast hub. “Every minute brought a new challenge,” he said. “I cannot begin to tell you how fast events were unfolding in that room.” The cramped space became a pressure cooker of ethical dilemmas and split-second decisions, amplified by the eerie visuals of masked gunmen pacing balconies and hostages being transported to an uncertain fate.
Back in the day, Mason was the kind of guy who’d get a real kick out of finding the perfect camera shot to capture a skier zipping down the mountain. Fast forward to today, and he’s still that guy, but now with a hefty dose of history under his belt. With seven Olympics, a Super Bowl, and a spot in the Sports Broadcasting Hall of Fame, his career reads like a sports media dream. While the movie may focus on the entire ABC crew covering that horrific day, make no mistake—Geoff Mason is the one who drives the narrative. When it comes to his memories, it’s that day in Munich that stands as the defining moment of his career.
For the first time in history, a global audience could witness a calamity unfolding live. This wasn’t an after-the-fact newsreel; this was raw, unscripted reality beamed straight into people’s living rooms. And Mason was at the controls, deciding where to point the cameras.
“We didn’t know the full scope of what might happen,” Mason admitted. “At least we didn’t have as many live cameras as today, so if someone got shot, we might not capture it.” Then again, he wondered, should they capture it?
The beauty of September 5 lies in how it pulls you into the control room, even for those who know the outcome and remember the actual event. The film captures the emotional roller coaster the crew experienced, a feat not easily achieved. Dramatizing the moral tightrope Mason had to walk, it plunges into the chaos of that day. John Magaro’s portrayal of Mason conveys the young producer's moral torment and sheer exhaustion, including the real-life dilemma: “Can we show someone being shot on live television?”
The way we cover world-shaking events has changed drastically over the years. From 9/11 to October 7th and George Floyd’s tragic death, we’ve entered an era where everyone carries a high-definition camera in their pocket, and eyes are everywhere. We witness history unfold in real time, and with it comes the weight of decisions on what to show—and what not to. Geoff Mason, years after his work in Munich, found himself back in a control room for the 1989 World Series, disrupted by a powerful earthquake. Watching September 5 makes you realize just how far we’ve come in terms of media and the way we consume it. It’s a thought-provoking film that makes you reflect on the changes in coverage and how we process tragedies, sometimes in ways you never imagined. And that’s what great films do—they make you think.
If you ever watched sports on ABC in the '60s, '70s, or even the '80s, you knew Jim McKay. The guy was the face of sports television, a one-man institution that could handle anything, from the Indy 500 to the Summer Olympics. Born in Philadelphia, he grew up in Baltimore, where he probably got his sense of humor (you had to if you lived there back then). Before TV, he served in the Navy, then became a police reporter, where he probably got some tough skin, and eventually made his way into the TV game in 1947. He was the first voice heard on TV in Baltimore. Yeah, that’s a flex.
But it wasn’t until 1972 that McKay's legacy would truly become sealed. On his scheduled day off during the Munich Olympics, he was thrust into covering the unthinkable—the hostage crisis that rocked the world. What could have been a disaster for the network turned into a masterclass in live reporting. McKay stayed on air for over 14 hours, guiding viewers through the chaos and heartache. When it was clear that the athletes would not be coming home, McKay’s voice was the one to deliver the devastating news, telling us, "Our worst fears have been realized." It was raw, real, and unforgettably human. That broadcast alone earned him two Emmy Awards and the everlasting respect of anyone who cares about journalism.
Now, let’s talk about the magic of September 5—the movie doesn’t just drag us back into the chaos of Munich, it does so by masterfully incorporating archival footage of McKay’s coverage. And let me tell you, they got it right. Watching him navigate the emotional rollercoaster of that day brings back memories for those who lived it, and for younger generations, it’s a window into just how groundbreaking his reporting was. The archival footage doesn’t feel like a relic; it feels immediate, and through McKay’s steady voice, you feel the weight of the situation.
Jim McKay was the gold standard of sports reporting, and watching September 5 reminds us just how far we've come in terms of coverage. Today, anyone with a smartphone is practically an on-the-spot journalist, but back then, it was McKay who had the nerve and the humanity to carry us through one of the darkest moments in Olympic history. What the movie does is show you just how much has changed in terms of media—now, we see everything in real time, from world events to social movements, right from the palm of our hands. But back then? McKay’s voice was the one we trusted to give us the truth. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real difference between then and now.
One thing September 5 absolutely nails is the ABC control room. Seriously, if you told me they had a time machine and plucked the actual equipment from 1972, I’d believe you. The knobs, the switches, the giant, clunky monitors—it’s all there, recreated with the kind of detail that would make a museum curator jealous. And the dialogue? It’s sharp, fast-paced, and full of that chaotic energy you’d expect from a room full of sleep-deprived TV folks trying to manage an international crisis. You can practically smell the cigarette smoke and hear the clink of coffee cups. The film captures that "seat-of-your-pants" vibe perfectly, where every second feels like it could either save the broadcast or blow it to smithereens. It’s a masterclass in tension and authenticity. Trust me, even if you’ve never stepped foot in a control room, you’ll feel like you’re right in the thick of it, yelling at an assistant to "roll tape" or praying the satellite feed doesn’t cut out.
As much as I enjoyed September 5, it’s not without its hiccups. For one, while the laser focus on the sports department’s scramble to cover the crisis is riveting, I couldn’t help but feel like the film could’ve spared a few extra minutes to give us a glimpse into the hostages’ perspective. I’m not asking for a full detour, but a little more insight into their ordeal could’ve added an even deeper emotional punch.
And then there’s Peter Jennings. Or, more accurately, Benjamin Walker as Peter Jennings. The future ABC News anchor is the lone news guy in the sports-driven chaos, which should have been an interesting dynamic. Instead, Walker plays Jennings with all the charm and flexibility of a coat rack. I don’t know if that was a deliberate choice—maybe to make the sports folks look more empathetic by contrast—but man, it’s a tough watch. The real Jennings was smooth and unflappable, even at his worst. This portrayal, though? It’s like Temu AI tried to do Peter Jennings but got stuck in beta mode, leaving us with something stiff and strangely lifeless.
Following the film, there’s a Q&A with the cast and crew—a concept that feels like getting a DVD extra right there in the theater. Sure, it’s not the deepest dive into the filmmaking process, but it’s still a pretty cool idea. It’s no post-credit Marvel teaser, but it’s worth sticking around for. Besides, if you’re going to shell out $7.50 for a box of Sno Caps, you might as well use those few extra minutes to polish them off. After all, wasting overpriced candy feels like breaking some sort of movie theater commandment.
Leaving the theater after September 5, I couldn’t help but feel a little like Jim McKay wrapping up a broadcast—drained, reflective, but ultimately grateful for the experience. Sure, the film isn’t perfect, but it’s the kind of movie that sticks with you. It pulls you into the chaos, the moral dilemmas, and the history of that day in a way that’s both gripping and thought-provoking.
As a lifelong sports fan who’s seen it all—from athletes pulling miracles on the ice to heartbreaking losses—I have to say, this movie hits different. Maybe it’s because I remember watching Munich unfold as a kid, or maybe it’s the way it makes you think about how far we’ve come in media coverage. Either way, September 5 is more than just a movie; it’s a reminder of how fragile and complex history really is.
So grab a box of Sno Caps, stick around for the Q&A, and let this one sink in. It’s worth it.
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