Argo.2012 | Mobile DELUXE |

In the winter of 1979, six American diplomats did the only thing they could to survive: they ran. They slipped out of a burning Tehran embassy, dodged the revolutionary chaos, and found refuge in the homes of the Canadian ambassador and a few trusted staff. For 79 days, they existed in silence—hiding in attics, playing cards by candlelight, terrified that the knock on the door would be the one that ended everything.

The film’s famous third act—a breathless race to the airport, the frantic ticket stamping, the terrifying chase on the tarmac—has been criticized by historians as exaggerated. (In reality, the escape was quiet and uneventful. The plane did not chase them down the runway.) And yet, dramatically, it works because Affleck has earned it. By the time the 747 lifts its wheels off the ground, and the audience in the theater finally exhales, you don’t care about the historical asterisk. You care that the six people you’ve spent two hours with are going home. Argo is not a war film. It is a film about bureaucratic paralysis. The CIA is not heroic; it is cautious, risk-averse, and ready to abandon the six diplomats to their fate. The State Department is worse—more concerned with diplomatic protocol than human lives. The only real villain is the machinery of government moving too slowly. argo.2012

Ben Affleck, having since retired from directing these kinds of taut thrillers, made a film that is lean, mean, and emotionally precise. It won Best Picture not because it was the "most important" film of 2012 (it wasn't), but because it was the most perfectly engineered. Every gear meshes. Every silence is loaded. Every line of Arkin’s dialogue is quotable. In the winter of 1979, six American diplomats