The Back Bay Mainline, an outspoken alternative paper in Boston, finds its future under threat as a powerful corporation edges in to take over the publication. The film revolves around a tight-knit team of journalists and their intertwined lives: Harry Lucas, John Heard, a disillusioned lead reporter; Abbie, Lindsay Crouse, a gifted photographer whose images cut to the heart of the story; Laura, Gwen Welles, a founding reporter living with Michael; Max, Jeff Goldblum, a mercurial music critic; Michael, Stephen Collins, a pretentious writer who dreams of uprooting to New York; Lynn, Jill Eikenberry, the compassionate office administrator; David, Bruno Kirby, an eager cub reporter; and Frank, Jon Korkes, the beleaguered editor-in-chief. Into this herd of reporters enters Roy Walsh, Lane Smith, the sharp, ambitious organizer behind the corporate bid, shaping the fate of the newspaper from behind the scenes.
As whispers of a communications empire gaining control swirl through the newsroom, the personal stakes rise alongside the professional ones. Laura’s relationship with Michael becomes a focal point: Michael, a self-absorbed figure who aims to relocate to New York with the earnings from his forthcoming book, tests Laura’s loyalty at every turn. A party—meant to celebrate—exposes Michael’s neglectful side, and Laura ends up spending the night at Harry’s place, only to face a tense return when Michael shows up for a confrontational exchange. In the end, Laura makes a costly choice, choosing to stand by Michael and accompany him to New York, even if it costs her own career.
Meanwhile, David is determined to prove himself with a big, risky scoop. His pursuit leads him to a shady record producer who agrees to talk, but instead sends two hired goons to rough him up. Harry, Abbie, and Max spring into action, arriving just in time to witness David take a brutal nose-whip of a beating, a moment that hardens their resolve to resist forces that would crush independent reporting.
Harry’s own arc threads through his waning confidence in his craft and his impact on the world. He drifts through the newsroom, and when he finally confesses love to Abbie after a night they share, she makes it clear she does not feel the same, deepening his sense of professional and personal disconnection.
The rumor mill crescendos as the corporation’s plan unfolds. A formal meeting reveals the scope of the buyout, and Walsh’s faction presses Frank to dismiss Harry, labeling him a “moving force in the wrong direction.” Lynn is the first to resign, a symbolic moment that signals the paper’s tipping point and the fragility of a newsroom under corporate pressure.
In a moment of fantasy, Harry envisions walking into Walsh’s office and shooting him with a suction-cup dart toy pistol—a stark, if unreal, escape from the mounting tension. In the real world, he finds a fragile, human connection by the bar with Abbie, and the two begin to reconcile, leaving Max to face the room alone. Max, ever the rogue, ends the film by conning a stranger into buying him a drink, a small, improvisational act that underscores the film’s alternation between earnest journalism and human improvisation.
The movie never fully resolves the ongoing struggle between independent journalism and corporate power. What remains is a portrait of a newsroom that must navigate loyalty, love, ambition, and integrity when the future of their paper—and perhaps the very idea of a free press in their city—hangs in the balance. The characters’ intertwining choices expose both the resilience and the fragility of people who are willing to fight for truth, even when that fight costs them dearly.
