‘Cover-Up’ Review: Seymour Hersh and the Secrets of American Power (Netflix)

The United States has a long tradition of great investigative journalists—old-school figures who roam the corridors of power with a notebook under their arm, make endless phone calls, cultivate hidden sources, and stay up late into the night writing stories that, the next morning, can change people’s lives or even alter the course of the country’s history. Thanks to their reporting on Watergate for The Washington Post, Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward are probably the most famous and emblematic examples. But there were—and still are—many others. Seymour Hersh is one of those legendary, and for some deeply controversial, figures in American journalism. And this documentary, co-directed by Laura Poitras—herself a major investigative journalist working through cinema—focuses on his life and work.

Hersh is now 88 years old and still publishing investigative reporting, talking to sources, checking facts, poring over heavily redacted documents, and breaking stories about Ukraine, Gaza, or Donald Trump on his Substack page. He remains just as active, intense, and famously cranky as he has always been said to be. What Poitras and Mark Obenhaus do here is revisit some of his most important stories, reveal glimpses of a personal life he prefers not to discuss, and explore the controversies that have followed him across more than six decades as a reporter and author of multiple investigative books.

Structured around a series of revealing—and at times openly confrontational—interviews with Hersh himself (who repeatedly questions the filmmakers and even threatens to walk out of the project), Cover-Up gradually unfolds as a kind of secret history of the United States, told through the scandals Hersh exposed: corruption, torture, human rights violations, and criminal acts carried out by various American agencies and institutions. What sets Hersh apart from many of his peers is his absolute refusal to bow to institutional or editorial pressure, even if that meant quitting outlets that wouldn’t publish his work.

The investigation that made his name—and turned him into a public figure—was his reporting on the My Lai Massacre during the Vietnam War: the killing of more than 400 unarmed civilians by U.S. troops. Hersh was the journalist who uncovered what was initially dismissed as an isolated incident caused by a single deranged soldier. What followed was a national scandal that helped erode what little public support for the war remained by the late 1960s. The film devotes more than a third of its running time to this crucial investigation, showing how the story grew, shifted, and darkened over time, ultimately revealing the war’s most brutal realities.

My Lai was only the first in a long series of major investigations during Hersh’s years at the AP, The New York Times, The New Yorker, and other outlets. His reporting also exposed the CIA’s involvement in the coup against Salvador Allende in Chile, uncovered key elements related to Watergate alongside Woodward and Bernstein’s work, revealed corporate scandals, domestic CIA spying on U.S. citizens, horrific cases of military torture during the Iraq War, and—through his books—advanced controversial claims about the private life of John F. Kennedy, among many other revelations.

Some aspects of Hersh’s investigative style have long made him a polarizing figure. Because of the nature of the subjects he covers, he relies heavily on anonymous sources, a practice that has led many critics to question the credibility of his reporting. Yet, with a few notable exceptions—one of which the film addresses—most of the secrets revealed in his stories ultimately proved to be true. Still, as a classic lone wolf unwilling to compromise or take orders, Hersh has accumulated plenty of enemies over the years, many of whom have publicly challenged his methods.

Poitras and Obenhaus weave together archival footage, photographs, and contemporary reporting with interviews from colleagues and people who crossed paths with Hersh throughout his life. But the film’s core is Hersh himself: his memories, his devotion to the craft, his tears when recalling painful moments, his ferocity when defending his vision of journalism, and his barely contained irritation whenever he feels control slipping away. That tension between the subject and the filmmakers—who clearly admire him but are not afraid to push back—adds an extra layer to a documentary about investigative journalism, a profession that feels more necessary than ever, yet one that, in this strange and distorted era, has also become deeply questioned and discredited.