Imagine a magazine so iconic, so deeply woven into the fabric of American culture, that attempting to capture its essence in a 90-minute film feels akin to bottling the spirit of a nation. That’s the audacious task Marshall Curry took on with The New Yorker at 100, a Netflix documentary that peels back the layers of one of the world’s most revered publications. But here’s where it gets intriguing: even Curry, a seasoned filmmaker, admits that some stories are better suited for the pages of The New Yorker than the silver screen. So, how did he turn this journalistic juggernaut into a compelling visual narrative? And this is the part most people miss: it’s not just about the magazine’s past—it’s about its future, too.
Curry and his team spent a year immersed in the magazine’s world, sifting through archives, sitting in on editorial meetings, and shadowing legendary figures like editor David Remnick. But don’t expect a high-stakes, deadline-driven drama. Unlike the frenzied portrayals of media in films like The September Issue, The New Yorker operates with a calm, almost serene precision. “I wanted to see chaos, but they don’t do that,” Curry admits. Instead, what emerges is a portrait of supreme self-assuredness—a quality that has allowed the magazine to thrive in an era where print journalism is often written off as a relic.
While other publications chased trends and faded into obscurity, The New Yorker doubled down on its unique blend of curiosity, wit, and intellectual rigor. Its pages are a collage of wry cartoons, cultural observations, and authoritative long-form journalism. But here’s the controversial part: is this elite, meticulously crafted approach sustainable in today’s fast-paced, clickbait-driven media landscape? Readers certainly think so, as evidenced by their unwavering loyalty—whether they’re devouring issues on the subway or proudly displaying their New Yorker-branded totes.
Curry’s film is as eclectic as the magazine itself, featuring narrations by Academy Award-winner Julianne Moore and cameos from contributors like Jesse Eisenberg and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. We see art editor Françoise Mouly brainstorming the centennial cover, war correspondent Jon Lee Anderson reporting from a Syrian prison, and investigative reporter Ronan Farrow uncovering Trump administration secrets. But the real challenge? Turning the tables on these master interviewers. “I tried to use the documentary filmmaker’s trick of silence after a question,” Curry recalls, “but David Remnick saw right through it. ‘Marshall, I know this trick, too,’ he said with a smile.”
The film shines brightest when it retraces the magazine’s evolution from a Mad magazine-style humor publication to a serious journalistic force. From John Hersey’s groundbreaking Hiroshima report to James Baldwin’s searing essays during the civil rights movement, The New Yorker has consistently risen to meet the moment. But has it grown too comfortable in its prestige? And can it adapt to the challenges of the digital age?
Despite its triumphs, the magazine faces existential questions. With Remnick’s tenure nearing its end, readers and insiders worry about its future. The film briefly touches on internal struggles, like the magazine union’s battle with Condé Nast and tensions over coverage of the Israel-Gaza conflict. Is The New Yorker a timeless institution or a museum piece in the making? And can it survive in an economy that prioritizes speed over substance?
Curry remains optimistic. “They’re not trying to be McDonald’s,” he says. “They’re making handmade sushi for people who appreciate perfection.” But as the film concludes, the question lingers: Can perfection endure? What do you think? Is The New Yorker a relic of a bygone era, or a beacon of journalistic excellence worth preserving? Let’s debate in the comments.
