I watched Barack Obama's Presidential inauguration on 20th January. The first half of the live coverage was mainly political commentators commenting as various political figures emerged from the Capitol building, including Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, and George Bush. When former President George W. Bush walked out, a correspondent in the crowd reported muted boos. I was a little disappointed. Only "muted"? Given that Bush, Jr. is one of the most unpopular Presidents of recent years, I was expecting something a little more enthusiastic. A little more contemptuous.
I had a similar reaction to W., Oliver Stone's recent biopic of George W. Bush. It is an oddly opinion-less film; it tries to walk the fine line between caricature and sensitivity, but strays into both often enough that the film loses any sense of purpose. Straight scenes such as the cabinet meeting in which Dick Cheney reveals his exit plan for Iraq ("There is no exit plan.") sit side by side with lighter scenes, many of which include some of Bush's now immortal quotations ("Rarely is the question asked: is our children learning?"), and the audience is left wondering where Stone is going with all of this.
Part of the problem is Josh Brolin's performance as the (now) former President of the United States. It is a fine performance, uncanny at times; but Brolin largely plays Bush as a lovable buffoon, bumbling through an ever-rising political career in a desperate attempt to please his father (James Cromwell). Now, Brolin is compelling as W. Bush; if you were to close your eyes at certain points in the film, you could swear you were watching the six o'clock news. And maybe I'll look back at W. in ten or twenty years' time and appreciate Brolin's performance as a sensitive and accurate one, perfectly reflecting the man in question. But right now, with Bush still fresh in the world's memory, I can't be the only one craving a harder portrait of the ex-President. And surely a film should a reflection of its own cultural moment?
Politics and purpose aside, W.'s supporting players are uniformly brilliant. Their skill elevates W. above the stilted reconstruction it could have been. Deserving of special mention are James Cromwell as Bush, Sr.; and Richard Dreyfuss, who gives a scarily accurate portrayal of Dick Cheney. On a negative note, however, Ioan Gruffud seems entirely out of place as Tony Blair, in a brief cameo that feels awkward after Michael Sheen's spot on take on the former Prime Minister in The Queen (2006).
But, good or bad, the performances all seem like wasted effort, as W. searches frantically, ultimately failing to discover its true purpose. In a way, Stone's reluctance to avoid either of the two extremes is understandable. A harsh indictment of the Bush legacy wouldn't say anything we don't already know; and its probably too early for the sensitive, "honest" approach. But I can't shake the feeling that Stone, knowing that the Bush administration was coming to an end, rushed the film through. Had he waited, had he spent more time finding the note he wanted to strike with the film, maybe he would have had something memorable. As it stands, though, W. is a bit of a mess.
I had a similar reaction to W., Oliver Stone's recent biopic of George W. Bush. It is an oddly opinion-less film; it tries to walk the fine line between caricature and sensitivity, but strays into both often enough that the film loses any sense of purpose. Straight scenes such as the cabinet meeting in which Dick Cheney reveals his exit plan for Iraq ("There is no exit plan.") sit side by side with lighter scenes, many of which include some of Bush's now immortal quotations ("Rarely is the question asked: is our children learning?"), and the audience is left wondering where Stone is going with all of this.
Part of the problem is Josh Brolin's performance as the (now) former President of the United States. It is a fine performance, uncanny at times; but Brolin largely plays Bush as a lovable buffoon, bumbling through an ever-rising political career in a desperate attempt to please his father (James Cromwell). Now, Brolin is compelling as W. Bush; if you were to close your eyes at certain points in the film, you could swear you were watching the six o'clock news. And maybe I'll look back at W. in ten or twenty years' time and appreciate Brolin's performance as a sensitive and accurate one, perfectly reflecting the man in question. But right now, with Bush still fresh in the world's memory, I can't be the only one craving a harder portrait of the ex-President. And surely a film should a reflection of its own cultural moment?
Politics and purpose aside, W.'s supporting players are uniformly brilliant. Their skill elevates W. above the stilted reconstruction it could have been. Deserving of special mention are James Cromwell as Bush, Sr.; and Richard Dreyfuss, who gives a scarily accurate portrayal of Dick Cheney. On a negative note, however, Ioan Gruffud seems entirely out of place as Tony Blair, in a brief cameo that feels awkward after Michael Sheen's spot on take on the former Prime Minister in The Queen (2006).
But, good or bad, the performances all seem like wasted effort, as W. searches frantically, ultimately failing to discover its true purpose. In a way, Stone's reluctance to avoid either of the two extremes is understandable. A harsh indictment of the Bush legacy wouldn't say anything we don't already know; and its probably too early for the sensitive, "honest" approach. But I can't shake the feeling that Stone, knowing that the Bush administration was coming to an end, rushed the film through. Had he waited, had he spent more time finding the note he wanted to strike with the film, maybe he would have had something memorable. As it stands, though, W. is a bit of a mess.
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