Tune In

Thursday, March 31 is the first anniversary of Air America, the feisty talk radio channel that -- despite daunting odds and early behind-the-scenes financial delusions -- has reached the one-year mark healthy and outspoken, an effective and unique voice in a world long dominated by right-wing talk maniacs.

Marking the anniversary is the no-holds-barred HBO film Left of the Dial, a terrifically entertaining, intimate documentary that looks at the very bumpy road that led to the launch of Air America.

The show debuts twice on March 31 (and airs April 5, 6 and 9 on various HBO stations). So, all readers with HBO -- get those TiVOs working, invite your friends over for a viewing party, make a copy and spread it around ... er, just kidding about that one ... but this film must be seen by millions of people still hurting from Nov. 2, for some much-needed warm and fuzzy feelings.

Left of the Dial chronicles a growing success story for progressive media. Air America is now on the air in 51 cities, starting from the slim five at the beginning. And increasingly, Air America is doing excellent talk radio.

The documentary is an inspiring tale of how an unlikely collection of people and talent persevered during an election in which they were so deeply and emotionally invested. The film effectively captures the on air talent -- the viewer can see the hilarious cranky morning guy, Marc Maron; the wonderfully obnoxious Randi Rhodes, the one true radio veteran of the bunch; and even the occasionally pompous Al Franken make good talk radio -- because they make good TV as well.

Those who have followed the Air America saga know that amidst the initial euphoria of getting on the air, the network lost L.A. and Chicago, its number two and three markets almost immediately because of confusion and bounced checks. Very quickly there was no health insurance or paychecks and the staff and talent quickly slid into the depths of despair.

It is fascinating to meet Evan Cohen and his right-hand man David Goodfriend, the early money and leadership. Cohen was the hustler who got Air America to the point of success, only to almost crash and burn it. The money Cohen insisted was on hand to keep the station rolling for two years almost immediately disappears, and then so does Cohen. The filmmakers, clearly in a nod to their lawyers, provide some written narrative to explain Cohen's convoluted side of the story. But the bottom line in the narrative is Cohen signs away his ownership, the ogres are sent packing and two unlikely heros among many emerge to save the day. One is the soft spoken investor Doug Kreeger who arrives, mensch-like, to find the funds to keep the station on the air. The other is Carl Ginsburg, the charismatic, profane general manager, who by sheer dint of persistence and passion provides the leadership glue to keep the operation in one very fragile piece.

While the nuts and bolts of getting the channel going are elucidated, the viewer meets dozens of hard-working, committed people -- on air and off -- giving it all for a cause they truly believe in. It all has a tinge of Keystone Kops hilarity to it, with virtually everything breaking down at some point in the race to get on the air.

One of the humorous subplots follows Franken and to a lesser extent Janeane Garafolo, the well-known actor and comedian, as the marquee on-air stars getting all the attention. Meanwhile, Randi Rhodes, a truly loveable character and a successful Florida radio personality for 15 years, is relegated to background. Rhodes plays the role with great dead-pan humor -- this woman should be in movies. As the film develops, Rhodes emerges as the true authentic voice of the station; angry, funny, vulnerable all wrapped into one package. In her first day on the air, she tangles fiercely with Ralph Nader, telling him she is not interviewing him, but in fact is furious with him, because "we can't afford to have you running." Eventually, the insulted Nader, insisting he should be interviewed and not talked at, hangs up, and Rhodes grins in triumph.