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That was "10", this is now

With a wealth of archival footage, and talented actors voicing animated courtroom scenes, "Chicago 10" attempts to dramatize the events that led up to the 1968 protest of the Chicago Democratic National Convention and the trial that followed (they were called the "Chicago 8" at the time, but the filmmakers add two lawyers to get the title). Director Brett Morgan, who also made the superior Robert Evans doc "The Kid Stays in the Picture", weaves an intriguing tale with the material at hand, painting a picture of an antiquated judicial system, a few motivated rabble-rousers and a youth movement ready to erupt. Like 2002's "Kid", Mr. Morgan uses a unique visual style to present his story, and "Chicago" is liable to leave you frustrated at the easy parallels it draws to current events, as well as the film's lack of conviction in portraying it.

The ringleader of this circus is Abbie Hoffman. Voiced in the animated segments by the ever-chameleonic Hank Azaria, Mr. Hoffman comes off as the prototypical rebel (his movement would name themselves "Yippies"). With wild hair, colorful T-shirts, and an off-the-cuff quip for every occasion, Mr. Hoffman is a man for all treasons. Never shy about his distaste for "the system" or his desire to undermine it, he makes himself an easy target for the exact type of hypocrisy he so detests.

Mr. Hoffman and his co-defendants (notably, Jerry Rubin and Black Panther leader Bobby Seale) stage a peaceful demonstration during the 1968 DNC. Naturally, it only remains peaceful for so long. A stand-off between the protestors and some wildly over-equipped policemen results in a violent melee that leaves many wounded and several hauled off to jail. The focus of the film is the animated trial scenes (which resulted in jail time for almost all involved). So convincing are the voice-actors here (including Liev Schreiber and Jeffrey Wright) that for a time it seems as though the vocal soundtrack may be culled from actual court recordings. Only the late, much-mourned Roy Scheider slightly overdoes it as the supremely crotchety judge Judge Julius Hoffman (no relation). In fact, the dialogue is adapted from court transcripts, and it lends the film a marked gravity typically absent from dramatizations of this kind.

Mr. Morgan's cross-media technique, while distracting at first (particularly when paired with an anachronistic soundtrack which includes Eminem and Rage Against the Machine), soon begins to feel like a natural extension of the archival footage. Regrettably, not enough is made of the possibilities of that animation. With the exception of a memorable visit to the county licensor, these scenes are pretty much played straight. And though the animation is fascinating to watch for a time, nothing can replace the documentary footage of Mr. Hoffman and his cohorts. The film would have benefitted from a closer examination of the real-life characters. There's also a frustrating lack of context around certain live footage. With all the time the filmmakers must have taken, it's surprising to see them fall short here.

It is, in the end, a testament to these few defiant men and their belief in the power of the people that "Chicago 10" feels as timely as the nightly news. Though its heroes dress in period-appropriate attire and use terms like "groovy", their outspokenness is as welcome today as it was forty years ago. What "Chicago 10" really illuminates is how much that attitude seems missing from current events. Though if their message lives on, maybe they weren't wrong after all.