Here on British shores, we so often ask the question 'does satire and self-deprecation exist in Hollywood?' well, Jay Roach's Trumbo has an answer: Beverly Hills is built on that very axiom. At the centre of the golden age, the American boom: Trumbo was comically contradicting its denizens and values, with a tongue firmly placed-in-cheek. As the playful Dalton Trumbo (Bryan Cranston) definitively illustrates, this is no laughing matter though; the film breathes the cold air of McCarthyism that ruined so many ordinary people's lives, in and out of the industry.

Following a group of blacklisted screenwriters (Cranston, Louis CK, Alan Tudyk) who would come to be known as the Hollywood, the story follows from the accusations and treads tentatively through the witch-hunt that Arthur Miller spectacularly channelled in the Crucible. Political and film history begin to gallop hand-in-hand. As we enter the civil rights era and those ambitions begin to actualise, the issues facing the Ten become comically contradictive. The utterly detestable Hedda Hopper (Helen Mirren) embodies the jingoistic scaremongerer and provides juxtaposition for iconic figures like Kirk Douglas (Dean O'Gorman) and Otto Preminger (Christian Berkel). Presenting the risks they took becoming involved with Trumbo subsequently forces the audience to question and reconsider films they're so familiar with.

Focusing on the recreated court scenes or brawls in Spartacus, Roach's penchant for a blend of period footage blended with new material of his actors enables you to bind both history and the intimacy of character with a confidence. It is with those assurances that leads one to questioning the moral fabric of the industry itself: the issues that, rightly or wrongly, so many have about agenda. Or, as Louis CK comments in the film, the culture of people "trying to sell their soul but they can't find it." In this comment on the zeitgeist Roach has, through these methods of post-modernism, created a post-modern argument about film.

If there is one, the winner on both accounts must be the man who spends the whole picture craving victory, Trumbo. There are great symbols of his stubbornness and conquest in his ability to defy the blacklist, his academy awards, his seal of approval from John F Kennedy, and the existence of this film serves as yet another place where Trumbo can see his name: his success. It's the opportunity for a last laugh on McCarthyism but, echoing the brilliant Cranston's definitive speech, this was no joke: it was many tragedies told in a world of fairy tales.