W.

Oliver Stone's W. is a film about a man at war -; first, with his father; then, with himself; and, finally, with Saddam Hussein (the last of these three conflicts could be construed as a manifestation of the first, and Stone leaves this interpretation open to his audience). The film's opening and closing images of George W. Bush standing center field in an empty baseball stadium further this concept by presenting him as a lone participant in a team sport, the outcome of the game hinging on whether or not he can catch a high fly ball. And before this moment, there is a simpler expression of the same intent in the film's title card: a white W. against a black background, with the center point of the letter created by two glyphs intersecting like crossed swords.

Fortunately, there is a great deal of similarly poetic imagery in W., a film that humanizes and never once condescends to its protagonist. Although Stone clearly intends to provoke, he does it subtly, and without malice (and if provocation is not his intention, then why produce and release, on a super-tight schedule, a biography of a sitting president just weeks before the election that determines his successor?). Because the past eight years have been a watershed for political satire, Stone wisely never pushes his film firmly in this direction. In fact, the strongest telegraphing of Stone's agenda comes through his music choices: two notable songs are the "Robin Hood" TV theme, used repeatedly as jaunty counterpoint, and Dylan's anti-war jeremiad, "With God on Our Side" over the closing credits. With a dynamic visual grammar and a rapidly paced narrative, W. is a return to audacious form for Stone following World Trade Center, a film largely without his directorial fingerprints.

W. spans the life of George W. Bush from his late teens to his late fifties, covering a smattering of events leading up to his presidency that the film’s writer, Stanley Weiser, convincingly portrays as character-forming. Although not set up within the film as flashbacks, these events unfold concurrently with the lead-up to the 2003 Iraq War. However, this is fundamentally not a film about plot. Only someone who has been comatose for the past eight years -; or, perhaps, an extraterrestrial -; would be wholly unaware of the events depicted onscreen, and Stone and Weiser depend on an informed audience to cover their omissions. Instead, W. is about the virtuosity of these reenactments and the point of view that underlies them.

Stone makes great use of a veteran ensemble cast, but Josh Brolin's performance as George W. Bush ought to catapult him past his terrific supporting performances of 2007 (No Country for Old Men, American Gangster, Grindhouse) into leading-actor territory. He captures Bush's well-known and thoroughly parodied mannerisms without commenting on them, or ever once closing off the incredible access he provides to this character's inner life. Bush is not known as a subtle man, but Brolin portrays his striving, impetuousness, unparalleled sense of certainty, and self-defeating behavior, as identifiable, thoroughly human traits. Brolin convincingly ages over the film's forty-year span -; a rarity in biographical films -; but more importantly, in spite of the changes this character undergoes, he remains remarkably consistent. Brolin's performance holds W. together and makes an omnipresent figure who has become tiresome (as his ever-sinking approval ratings would suggest) appear fresh, interesting, and compulsively watchable.

Other performances in W. are more of a mixed bag. James Cromwell only occasionally hits upon George Bush Sr.'s vocal mannerisms and hardly ever suggests his physical presence, but his performance is engaging and generates hard-earned empathy for a man from a social class and generation unaccustomed to showing vulnerability. Elizabeth Banks brings a quiet intelligence as a Laura Bush who is portrayed as George W.’s source of greatest support, behind Karl Rove (a smarmy, obsequious Toby Jones). Banks has a terrific scene in which she responds wordlessly to W.’s sudden decree that they will be moving to Washington to assist his father’s presidential campaign; her face is at one moment a mask of shock and hurt -; her husband does not once ask her feelings about moving -; and within a single shot, she visibly comes to grips with the sacrifices she will have to make in service of George’s career. Ellen Burstyn is given much less to do as Barbara Bush, as is Thandie Newton as Condoleeza Rice -; although a good physical match for Rice, Newton’s attempts to imitate her accent and cadences fall flat. Richard Dreyfuss brings a bilious edge as Dick Cheney, who is portrayed as a power-hungry overreacher (Brolin appears heroic by contrast when he tells Cheney, “check your ego”). Jeffrey Wright makes a credible, frustrated Colin Powell, and Bruce McGill has great energy as George Tenet, scraping together evidence to create a “slam-dunk” Iraq war plan. However, Scott Glenn and Michael Gaston are less convincing as Donald Rumsfeld and Tommy Franks, respectively.

It is essential to mention all these characters because nearly all of the film’s segments on Bush’s presidency consist of planning sessions for the Iraq War. Stone and Weiser stick largely to extensive first-person accounts of these sessions, published by the likes of Bob Woodward and former Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neil, and any commentary Stone injects is subtle -; note the film’s many shots of ostentatious belt buckles and Scott Glenn’s giant bite of pecan pie during the meeting that follows Iraq’s descent into chaos. The planning and dissolution of the Iraq War are presented with some insight, and these events are irrefutably important to the history of Bush’s presidency, but W. ultimately presents a myopic view of his White House tenure. The 9/11 terror attacks and their aftermath are not covered, and neither are the Bush administration’s many abuses of executive power. The word Katrina is not once mentioned in the film -; surprising, since production took place in and around Shreveport, Louisiana -; nor is there any attempt to address Bush’s economic policies, which are looming increasingly large in the legacy his presidency will soon leave behind. In Stone’s defense, covering the full scope of Bush’s two-term presidency as well as his “formative” years would require far longer than this film’s two-hour running time, a prospect that would likely send audiences fleeing from theaters. Perhaps the biggest error in W. is that it concludes with a title card that says, “The End.” This statement is presumptuous, especially considering that the aftershocks of the Bush presidency have not yet begun. Given Oliver Stone’s habits of tinkering with his films long after their initial releases, it is intriguing to ponder what shape the inevitable director’s cut of W. will have.

Its narrow focus aside, W. walks a tonal tightrope with great success. So many of Bush’s traits cry out for parody, and if Stone has not entirely abstained, his approach is certainly ambiguous. For example, Brolin’s open-mouthed chewing during a discussion about torture with Cheney is included to ostensibly highlight Bush’s vulgarity, but his assertiveness with Cheney thoroughly disarms any notion that the scene is intended to malign his intelligence. Likewise, some in the audience may sneer at Bush’s famous malapropisms (i.e., “misunderestimate” and “…is our children learning?”) or his taste in theater -; Laura declares in one scene that his favorite musical is Cats-; but none of these come off as cheap shots in Oliver Stone’s film. W. is not satire, but an attempt to dramatize the psyche of a sitting president. It is possible that Brolin’s Bush is so sympathetic because the sins attributed to his character do not approach the full spectrum of misdeeds perpetrated under the watch of the genuine article. It is also arguable that the psychology Stone and Weiser have imposed on their version of Bush is reductive or inaccurate. In any case, only George W. Bush and those close to him can say with any certainty whether or not W. comes close to capturing his essence. For this politically attuned viewer, it is a good start.

                                                          Stuart Weinstock

                                                          10/17/08