Hola all. Massawyrm here.
To say that I’m not a fan of George W. Bush is a bit of an understatement.
As a lifelong traditionally conservative Republican, I have watched as the party of Lincoln, the party of Eisenhower and the party of Reagan has been systematically taken apart brick by brick by this man and his sycophantic group of catch phrase spewing cronies. Christopher Buckley said it best this week in his open resignation letter to the National Review when he wrote “I no longer have any clear idea what, exactly, the modern conservative movement stands for.
Eight years of 'conservative' government has brought us a doubled national debt, ruinous expansion of entitlement programs, bridges to nowhere, poster boy Jack Abramoff and an ill-premised, ill-waged war conducted by politicians of breathtaking arrogance. As a sideshow, it brought us a truly obscene attempt at federal intervention in the Terry Schiavo case.” The list of affronts to the very foundation of the party is longer than almost any list of grievances that any card carrying democrat could level against this administration. We’re no longer a party built upon the fundamentals of a political philosophy – we’ve become Anti-crats.
Pick a position held by a prominent democrat. That’s what we oppose now. Oh sure, we still loathe gun laws, government regulation and abortion for our own reasons, but not because of some overarching concept of state’s rights and limited government. No. We hate them because Jesus told us to. That’s what the conservative movement has been reduced to.
And while one could easily blame Rovian electioneering principles or manipulation by high ranking neo-conservatives or James Dobson and his accursed Focus on The Family, there is only one man truly accountable for the unmitigated clusterfuck that this country has found itself trying desperately to claw its way out of. And now, before his political career is even cold, Oliver Stone has produced a bizarre psychoanalysis of the man who still occasionally appears on the front lawn of the White House to remind us all that “I’m still President,” like we care and aren’t quietly counting down his last 100 days to ourselves.
And that’s what really has me in such a weird way about W. It’s not that I dislike, disagree or disapprove of ANYTHING this film has to say or offer. I just don’t know who the hell it was made for. One might call it a comedy, but it isn’t one. There are some laughs, sure, but mostly in very dramatic situations or at Thandie Newton’s beautifully ironic birdlike impression of Condi Rice. But this isn’t goofing on Bush. It is explaining him.
It is an incredibly even handed approach considering the source and leaves out a lot of the obvious barbs. What won’t you see? A single grain of cocaine. A drunken car crash. Bush in the National Guard. Dirty smear politics against McCain in the 2000 primaries. My Pet Goat. Almost none of the usual gripes or jabs. You also won’t see him misspeak very often. What would appear to be the perfect chance for a comedy of errors and an exercise in slaughtering grammar instead proves to be very kid gloved on the issue, only offering up a few choice, unforgettable lines of Bushspeak.
Instead the film focuses on the fact that George W. Bush is the less intelligent son of a former President who could never escape his brother’s or father’s shadow despite struggling every day of his life to do so; only to exceed them both by accomplishing everything neither could. Then fucking it all up. He is a well intentioned buffoon, a man who wants nothing more than to do the right thing, only to repeatedly prove just how woefully inadequate he is. It is a sympathetic film about a guy named George who lives the life of a shiftless drunk only to find God and almost magically become president. And it becomes very easy to like him – until the occasional moment when you are confronted by recent events and you remember that this is the feckless dipshit that has the missile codes. And here’s the kicker. It all feels VERY REAL.
There is little doubt in my mind that this is the closest to the truth there is to get. Personally I’ve never bought into the whole evil, Machiavellian, Hitler-esque picture of the man that many radicals paint. I’m a firm believer in Hanlon’s Razor: Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity. This film is a true exercise in that principle. Even Cheney, the dark sith lord himself (who is more machine now than man), gets a most fair portrayal. Even when he runs a laser pointer over the oil fields of Iraq and Iran it is with the intention of putting America in a position that no one can ever fuck with us again.
My problem with the film isn’t that it is quite possibly a fair and even handed look at the single most disastrous administration in modern history, it is that I’m not sure who is going to want to see a fair and even handed look at the single most disastrous administration in modern history. Liberals are going to find it a rather toothless assault on an easy target and nothing akin to the evisceration that many of them have hoped for. And those Republicans that don’t sit there trying to delude themselves into thinking that this is just another liberal smear piece are going to find it a 2 hour and 9 minute walk of shame – a thorough reminder that you once voted for this man because he said things you agreed with (but he never followed through with), had the last name Bush and had your ass completely snowed into thinking he was in any way competent to hold the position of President. It is not in any way an ENJOYABLE film.
It is however a very well made one.
Josh Brolin gives the performance of a lifetime. I always knew Brolin had talent – but never this much talent. He BECOMES George W. Bush. While it is easy to look at photos of him in the role and see the differences, it is almost impossible to do so when he is moving and talking. His mannerisms, speech pattern, vocal inflection. It’s fucking George W. Bush. He’s so good you occasionally forget that you’re watching someone portray the president. Then you’ll see Brolin inserted into some famous footage like the infamous aircraft carrier landing and you get a rather sharp reminder that this isn’t actually Bush that you’re watching. Just an incredible facsimile that will no doubt earn Brolin a very well deserved Oscar nod.
Many of the performances are like that. For the first moment or two the person looks just like the actor they really are – but then they do something small and become the person they’re portraying. The way Richard Dreyfuss hangs his jaw in that crooked open mouthed Cheney smile. Rob Corddry’s uncanny portrayal of Ari Fleischer. Elizabeth Bank’s far too on target Laura Bush. Toby Jones ultimately creepy immersion into a Karl Rove flesh suit and crap ass comb-over.
There are even a pair of incredible performances that are NOTHING like the real thing, but so good you don’t care. James Cromwell gives a turn as Bush the Elder that will endear him even to the most devout of left wing republican haters. And Jeffrey Wright’s Colin Powell doesn’t even seem to physically capture Powell at all. You just know it’s him by process of elimination. But man does he steal the show, in part due to Stone’s seeming elevation of Colin Powell to near sainthood. Stone is so in love with Powell throughout the film (as goddamned well he should be), having him truly be the voice of reason in any scene he needs someone speaking both rationally and intelligently, that it surprised me that God Bless America didn’t play every time he spoke. But Wright delivers each line, no matter how painfully patriotic (and obvious to the audience in hindsight), with a gentleness and authority that can only be ascribed to someone like Powell, that he truly captures the spirit of the man even if he doesn’t embody his physical presence.
Stone’s selection of scenes from Bush’s life are strung together out of order, slowly laying out the case that Bush is simply trying to live up to the ideals set by his father only to fail miserably. But he never belabors the point. There’s no montage of all the devastation Bush and company have wrought, no ending crawl or title cards that list a number of dead soldiers or try to remind us everything he’s done wrong. Stone knows he doesn’t need it. Hell, the movie never even has to get past 2003 to make its point, and it doesn’t. By the end of the film you feel the beginning of a long ending to a presidency many of us feared we’d never see the end of. It is an elegant, wonderfully constructed film made pretty much only for those that want to see a fascinating, if thoroughly depressing character study.
This isn’t some kind of slam dunk sucker punch to Bush on his way out of office or something to get you to vote for Obama instead of McCain. No. It is a very sad film about what will no doubt go down as a very bad period of American history. A time when our arrogance outmatched our capacity to do good and do right by the rest of the world. And at a time when our spirit can’t seem to get any lower, I’m not sure who is going to want to put themselves through a movie like this.
Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.
Massawyrm
Oh yeah. 96 more days.
