Stars:
***
Rating: PG-13 for
language, alcohol abuse and mature themes
Run
Time: 2
hours, 11 minutes
Oliver
Stone’s scathing indictment of the 43rd President of the United States
reads more like an SNL sketch than a thought-provoking biopic but it’s no less
entertaining.
Josh Brolin
nails George W. to the wall as an alcoholic party boy with lifelong daddy
issues. From his privileged days at Yale as a Delta Kappa brother to a series
of professional missteps in sporting goods, on oil rigs and a stint in
investment George is far more interested in chasing tail and seeking out his
next beer than engaging in the family business.
George
lives in the shadow of straight-shooting brother Jeb who’s cut from the same
cloth as George, Sr. – smart, sincere and perpetually on the political arc.
Junior sees politics as a “kick-ass, skull-crushing war” and evidently goes
that route – running for Governor of Texas – as a slap in the face to Jeb’s
campaign for Florida’s top spot.
When W.
becomes born again in a world of wounded sinners – not to mention eschewing the
drink once and for all – his call to the Presidency becomes part of a divine
plan. A legend in his own mind and how.
Yes he’s
“misunderestimated” and in the hands of Stone also a dimwit loser with no grasp
of foreign policy or national intelligence. Much is made of the war in Iraq –
some of the film’s most disquieting confirmations spring from agitated group
sessions in the situation room.
The trouble
with “W.” is that it’s a retread of the last eight years – not much we don’t
already know about the most controversial figure in the history of politics. Or
was before Sarah Palin made her move.
The laughs
are unintentional but W’s public and private gaffes are vastly amusing. More
sinister is his hodgepodge core of groupies; Karl Rove (Toby Jones) slithering
around the shadowy perimeter like an oily reptile (I shuddered when he boasted
of being a “lifelong student of political horseflesh”), a bumbling Secretary of
Defense Donald Rumsfeld (Scott Glenn) who can’t perceive up from down and a
conflicted Colin Powell (Jeffrey Wright) who stands alone as the voice of
military prudence shot down amidst the power-mongers and yes-men.
Laura gets
the bimbo treatment by fresh-faced Elizabeth Banks and daddy is played to
patriarchal perfection by James Cromwell. Best of show go to Richard Dreyfuss
as VP Dick Cheney (scary!) and a frighteningly dead-on impersonation of
Condoleezza Rice by English beauty Thandie Newton.
Stone knows
presidential biopics -- think “JFK” and “Nixon” -- but “W.” isn’t as
accomplished as those projects nor as wickedly complex. There’s an unfinished
feeling to this trepidatious tale of our current Commander in Chief; history
light if you will. Rumor has it the film was rushed into production to beat the
November election and it shows, a slapdash affair with enough damning evidence
and melodramatic style to make it work.
Stone’s
flashback/flash-forward technique is a narrative challenge but serves as an
intriguing foundation for his convoluted but compelling psychoanalysis of
Bush’s silver-spoon arrogance and deep-seated insecurities. The comic cure for
what ails as November 4 looms fast and furious.