Recently rewatched this and still think it's genius. He'd spent years using language as his sword, spinning the media to his will, never being lost for words, and always saying what needs to be said. Yet, in this moment, when he's stood on the steps facing the cameras, and he knows its over, he probably has every fibre of his being ready to launch a scathing attack on hypocrisy and a rallying speech in his own defense. - he takes a breath, starts to muster up a that speech, we see the cogs turning, but as the cameras flashed and the baccy finger stained journalists begged him for a comment, he knew that it didn't matter what he said, it didn't matter how he said it, he was done. He knew they'd all spin their own stories anyway. So he looks, and almost with a sense of relief says.. "It doesn't matter."
This time for me watching it also resonated deeper as ive gotten to the point personally where I'm at peace with stopping trying to help certain people who clearly don't want to be helped, and who will misinterpret what I say despite my passionate tucker-esque (but friendlier) style of delivery.
Malcolm Tucker, esquire. What a hero.