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THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT – by Pete Vonder Haar (Houston Press)
Available to stream on Starz and DirectTV & rent on Prime, Google Play, YouTube, FandangoNOW, Vudu, and Redbox.
Aaron Sorkin’s Presidential entertainment rep was solidified by the TV series The West Wing, which ran for seven seasons and won a slew of awards in the process. But he cut his Oval Office teeth with 1995’s The American President, a movie notable both for Sorkin’s dramatis personae as well as his dramatic license.
Set during the term of widower Commander-in-Chief Andrew Shepherd (Michael Douglas), the movie takes on the hypothetical scenario of a single President actively dating someone while trying to run the country. In this case, his paramour is environmental lobbyist Sydney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening). Their relationship is complicated both by political perceptions and their respective efforts to get Wade’s carbon emissions legislation and Shepherd’s crime bill passed.
The movie hinges on assumptions and outrages that seem downright quaint in the current era. Shepherd’s key political rival, Senator Rumson (Richard Dreyfuss) practically twirls his mustache in delight at the scandal of a President (consensually) bedding someone in the White House, especially someone who’d once been present at a protest where an American flag was burned.
But these moral paroxysms pale in comparison to Sorkin’s proposition – birthed here and given fuller form in The West Wing – that Presidential administrations are largely populated by dutiful, well-meaning persons of integrity, all working for the betterment of their fellow Americans. If nothing else, the events of the last few years have put that concept emphatically to rest.
That, and the naïve concept that a President could tell the nation he was coming for their guns and survive politically.
Douglas, nevertheless, is convincing as a well-meaning (and occasionally ill-tempered) Chief Executive, while Bening holds her own as both his professional and romantic foil. Martin Sheen, who would assume the role of President in The West Wing, is also on point as Shepherd’s politically shrewd Chief of Staff. Rob Reiner, as he did with A Few Good Men, shows himself to be the one director who can generally rein in Sorkin’s verbosity and make it inherently watchable.
VICE – by James Roberts (Glide Magazine)
Available to stream on Hulu & rent on Prime
Vice was a victim of nothing more than expectation.
Coming just three years after The Big Short, director Adam McKay’s surprisingly fantastic examination of the 2008 housing crisis, expectations for Vice were sky high. Having made his name on comedies such as Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy and the cult-classic Step Brothers, no one much expected McKay to have it in him to take on the housing crisis and financial collapse of 2008. One Best Screenplay Oscar and Best Picture nomination later, we were all proven wrong.
So when it came out that McKay was working on a biopic of Vice President Dick Cheney, long seen as the real boogeyman behind the Bush administration, interest was immediately piqued. McKay had already proven himself more than capable of distilling complex sociopolitical issues into easy-to-understand films, and we couldn’t wait to see what he did with Cheney.
But those expecting another bang would be disappointed. Critics and audiences were both largely mixed on Vice. David Bromwich, writing for The New York Review of Books, called it, “a shambles.” Joe Morgenstern of The Wall Street Journal said that, “The gleefully scattershot style that gave so much pleasure in The Big Short ill-befits the somber subject of Vice.” Brian Tallerico of rogerebert.com said that Vice, “lacks insight” and compared it to “a Wikipedia entry.”
Respectfully, I couldn’t disagree more.
Much as he did with The Big Short, McKay took an extremely complex subject matter—which, in this case, is actually much larger than its titular character, masterfully played, by the way, by Christian Bale—and broke it down to its essentials, allowing the audience to see the decades-long machinations that led to Cheney’s rise as Vice President and the labyrinthine politics which he helped lay.
While the Office of the Vice President is often seen as a toothless, no-power position, Vice President Cheney had different designs. With a Machiavellian nature that was, to him, as easy as taking a breath, Cheney wielded an outsized influence on Washington, taking his office to new heights and, in the process, helping to pull more power into the Executive Branch.
These are important matters for the public to realize and understand. The 21 st century has, thus far, been one in which the powers of the president have been expanded unchecked, and in some cases supported, by the other two branches. What’s resulted over (at least) the last 20 years is an unbalanced government in which it’s possible for a single man to rule as if king.
What we see in Vice, however, is that this process began much farther back than even Dick Cheney. Little by little, more power has been granted to the Presidency. One wonders how much more the legislative and judicial branches would have to give before those ultimate fears of our founding fathers would be finally realized.
Though this is a clear concern for McKay and informs much of his film, what’s perhaps most surprising is the way he handles Vice President Cheney himself. Even if the audience doesn’t much like who he is as a man or his politics, it’s not hard to see the human behind the boogeyman in McKay’s portrayal. This is in no small part due to Bale’s performance, which saw the actor not so much playing Cheney as becoming him. Through Cheney’s journey, we see how possible it is to start out as a lost and aimless young man to become, arguably, one of the most powerful American politicians of all time.
What’s more is how willingly McKay shows us that Cheney tried to do what he thought was right, no matter how much we might’ve disagreed with his beliefs or his methods. In the film’s powerful final scene, Cheney looks directly at the audience, addressing us and our potential distaste for the man. “I can feel you recriminations and your judgment,” he says. “And I am fine with it…I will not apologize for keeping your family’s safe, and I will not apologize for being what needed to be done so your loved ones can sleep peaceably at night. It has been an honor to be your servant.”
Maybe Cheney was something of a necessary boogeyman. Or maybe we can find it in ourselves to find some respect for the man and what he did no matter where we might fall on the political spectrum of how vehemently we disagree with him. If nothing else, perhaps we can at least recognize his intentions were good, even if we can’t help but thinking about what paves that road to Hell.
That I’m even questioning myself here is a testament to how powerful and nuanced a film McKay gave us with Vice. Maybe we wanted too much of it. Maybe it’s only sin is that it wasn’t The Big Short. I couldn’t tell you. What I can tell you is that Vice is one of the best portrayals of the Executive Office yet produced in the 21st century. Through it, we see for ourselves not only the kind of power that the oft-maligned Office of the Vice President can actually wield, but also get a small glimpse of why things are now the way that things are. Whatever your feelings the first time you watched it, it’s high time you sat with it again with fresh eyes. Perhaps now that it’s a bit farther out from the shadow of The Big Short, we can finally see it for the political masterpiece it truly is.
THE CANDIDATE – by Mark Schumann (Hearst Connecticut Media)
Available to stream on HBO Max, and rent on Prime, Google Play, Vudu, FandangoNOW, and DirectTV.
The political process in the United States is one big media show.
Each election cycle, the campaigns start earlier, the advertisements get dirtier and the candidates become more savvy at playing media games. Despite their promises – routinely heard at the start of every campaign season – that this time will stay positive – every campaign ultimately descends into a negative narrative.
The larger the campaign, as well, the more candidates use the media techniques borrowed from retail marketing to package their beliefs. And, since television first ran its first Presidential commercial in 1952 (for Dwight Eisenhower) the candidates have searched for creative ways to use the medium package, from the landmark “Daisy” commercial of Lyndon Johnson’s campaign of 1964 to the “swift boat” ads of 2004. Today, television and new media dominate the campaign landscape, turning what should be a right of democracy into a media sideshow. The only unfortunate thing is that, unlike reality television, we don’t get the chance to vote off a candidate every episode.
The Candidate may have been made in 1972 but its message – that media makes politics superficial – is as relevant today as when the film was made. Today, the packaging of political candidates rivals the promotion of retail products in the use of words and images to motivate action. Screenwriter Jeremy Larner suggests this world in a marvelous script that is years ahead of its time. Except for the styles of clothes and the size of the cameras, the film could take place today, as one idealistic politician resorts to media packaging to defeat a veteran politician in a mythical race for the Senate.
In the film, we are introduced to a young attorney whose father was once the governor of California. Political professionals identify the lawyer – who works at a storefront operation to help those who need help – as someone with potential to run for political office. The attorney, despite his experience watching his father, believes he might be able to do some good; as the campaign unfolds, he begins to realize he has become a pawn in someone else’s chess game.
The Candidate teaches us the danger that retail packaging brings to politics. It clearly shows how difficult it can be to authentically present a candidate in a positive way in a 30-second television commercial so the next best thing can be what we now call “the attack ad”. It also warns us that, as long as voters react to such advertising techniques when they choose whom to support, we will continue to see more and more advertising techniques invade political campaigns. The film suggests that no matter what candidates may say, ultimately “the look” is what sways voters. What should be a right has become a beauty contest. And television loves such reality.
The film may, as well, inspire you to take a hard look at what it takes to be in politics and how important it is for any voter to get to know what candidates truly believe.
