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As the summer blockbusters fade away from memory almost as quickly as they did when they first ran in theaters, Hollywood begins the parade of Oscar bait and one of their favorite tricks is to use films which are ripped from the headlines. And so, we have Captain Phillips and The Fifth Estate, chronicling Somali Pirates and the Wikileaks scandal, respectively. Quick, which one would you think is more sensationalistic?

The short answer is a tie, but the easier answer is which is the better film, and Captain Phillips easily wins our hearts and minds, and more than likely, our wallets. Directed by Paul Greengrass, the British filmmaker behind the two best of the Bourne foursome of films, though unfairly less known for the masterful United 93, there’s a wondrous sense of suspense and political commentary replete with some outstanding performances by its cast, only one of whom is well-known to audiences. There’s also an uglier subtext which might not seem so apparent at first glance. But more on that later.

Beginning with a rather painful husband/wife conversation about how things are tough all over between Tom Hanks and Catherine Keener (in a thankless cameo, save for the nod she’ll get from Hanks in his acceptance speech come Oscar time), Captain Phillips languishes about with the technicalities of chartering cargo though unfriendly waters and he’s everything that’s expected of an unlikely hero: a little intimidating, a trifle unfriendly, more than a bit paranoid with the “what ifs.” He studies government reports and news sites about past attacks while his crew would rather languish about in the break room.

Meanwhile off the Somali coast, the poor and disenfranchised line up for work on the shoreline like it’s a Home Depot in southern California, hoping to be picked out of the line either for their size or the content of their bribes; a lottery to participate in a chance to win millions, even if only by ill-gotten gains. Subtext sent and received: things are tough all over. It’s only when the two factions collide that one begins to appreciate the effort to show the more mundane details of captaining a cargo ship. Taken from Phillips biography of his experience, he’s never shown as an unrealistic Bruce Willis Die Hard type badass, instead he’s simply a man who is good at his job and knows his crew, and thus is able to project hints and strategy to the other men aboard after they’re taken by a rag-tag group of pirates who have little-to-no experience with piracy.

It’s these moments that make Captain Phillips a movie that I can wholeheartedly recommend. Without a doubt, it’s an exciting, tension filled movie, centered by Hanks. Greengrass keeps this momentum up throughout the film, moving from the cat-and-mouse hunt through the innards of the ship to the pursuit of the pirates as they attempt to make it back to the safety of their shores, which is where Hanks excels, showing a frailty and empathy which will make him hard to ignore when the various groups start handing out awards.

But (and I warned you this was coming), there was something about the experience which bothered me leaving the theater but took a few days to pin down, and that’s the third act. As I don’t want to give away any of the choice moments of the film, all I’m willing to say is that the claustrophobic setting is an opportunity for Hanks and newcomer/unknown Barkhad Abdi to show their acting skills, but in truth they both play second fiddle to the Navy Seals and the U.S. military in general. Greengrass got a lot of support and usage of American warships for this shoot, something that doesn’t come cheap or easily, and so it’s hard for the cynic in me to think that part of Captain Phillips isn’t on the level of Top Gun-stylized recruitment fodder. Which is fine, but it still neutralizes the argument laid out during the first five minutes.

You can bet the U.S. government wasn’t as eager to lend its vehicles or information to the other post summer bio-pic, The Fifth Estate. Based upon the rise and fall of Wikileaks founder Julian Assange, it’s a film that emulates the networks during the Bush/Gore election; so determined to come out first with the information, they’ve forgotten that it’s their job to make sure said information is accurate, and the collateral damage is everywhere.

It probably doesn’t help that the director, Bill Condon, has a filmography as erratic as his current subject. He’s done great work with bio-pics before with Kinsey and Gods and Monsters, but he’s also responsible for the last two Twilight films, along with Chicago and Dreamgirls. Since this is a movie about journalism, what is needed is a strong storyline backed by strong actors (think All the President’s Men and The Social Network). The Fifth Estate has neither.

Worse is that The Fifth Estate assumes too much, particularly with such an aggrandizing title. Condon references Wikileaks accomplishments and failures in rapid newspaper headlines (barely avoiding the spinning newspaper headline cliché) but fails to provide substance or context behind the headlines, perhaps in admonishment to his audience for not paying attention. Oliver Stone’s JFK was a lesson on how to provide a buttload of information that an audience could latch onto, whether they knew the particulars or not. This film seems to revel in admonishing those who can’t keep up.

Starting with the story that began the scandal, back in 2010 when Assange and company received classified government documents involving U.S. military actions overseas, complete with several allusions how this mirrors the Pentagon Papers incident in 1971. The difference (which goes largely unexplained in this film), is that news organizations, most notably The New York Times, agonized over those documents about what to self-censure in order to protect active U.S. Troops. Assange, and Wikileaks in general, insisted on no editing, allowing the public to make their own conclusions.

Typing that last paragraph particularly strikes home on what a failure The Fifth Estate is, for it’s not a film that’s interested in the moral responsibility of the agents of public record, instead preoccupying itself with a celebrity hunt of the man behind the Website, with allusions to a cultist upbringing, pathological lying, vanity and self-loathing, all with less attention to facts than the site Assange created. Or the one Matt Drudge created, for that matter.

Performances are competent if not particularly memorable, most notably by Benedict Cumberbatch (Star Trek: Into Darkness) as the white-haired rabbit, constantly darting in and out of the public eye. Given a competent script that has passed the test of time and egos (the screenplay was based on two books, both highly critical of Assange), this may have proved more interesting, but the truth is that it’s too soon; history will have a more concrete idea on the importance, for good or for ill on Assange’s creation. All this movie can claim is that they were first on the scene. And that reasoning is a simple reminder why the media in general is a mess.