George Bush stops drinking and commits his life to Christ, but it does not give him insight or political wisdom.
By Bob Brown
IT takes some nerve to make a biopic about a sitting president. But director Oliver Stone is nothing if not a nervy guy. He’s taken on controversy before and produced some powerful results, along with the misses. This time, although he hasn’t scored a bull’s-eye, at least he’s got a close shot group on the target. Stone collaborated with writer Stanley Weiser, with whom he had worked on Wall Street (1987), a film that is having a rebirth as a new generation discovers its relevance.
Like that earlier effort, and like many of Stone’s other pictures (JFK, Nixon, etc.), the story tries to get behind what we know of an event or a person from the media construction that bombards us every day. In this case, by assembling pieces from what’s known, and adding what can be imagined, Stone comes up with the answer to why George W. Bush — W. — is the way he is, and why we’re all in the pickle we’re in. (It should be noted that the film was wrapped when the only pickle was the Middle East.)
And speaking of pickled, the story neatly divides W.’s life into Pre- and Post-Jack Daniel’s. Naturally, in just a little over two hours, one cannot fill all the gaps fairly. It begins with a White House meeting on what to do in Iraq — pre-invasion. All the familiar figures are there: Condoleezza Rice (Thandie Newton), Paul Wolfowitz (Dennis Boutsikaris), Don Rumsfeld (Scott Glenn), Karl Rove (Toby Jones), Gen. Colin Powell (Jeffrey Wright), George Tenet (Bruce McGill) and Dick Cheney (Richard Dreyfuss). George W.’s ability to distill the varied viewpoints down to one, despite the divergent opinions, is a symptom of how he’s approaching life, after sobering up.
The story flashes back to earlier days, starting with his 100-proof extracurricular activities at Yale, which George W. refers to as “college exuberance.” It’s a fact that Princeton Campus Police collared him in Palmer Stadium after a Yale gridiron victory and told George Jr. to leave town. “So I was once in Princeton, New Jersey, and haven’t been back since,” George is quoted in James Hatfield’s controversial biography, Fortunate Son: George W. Bush and the Making of an American President. In the film, a bloodied W. (Josh Brolin) is being released from an evil-looking jail cell and phoning his disgusted father (James Cromwell). “Who do you think you are, a Kennedy?” Bush Sr. chides him.
The story alternates scenes from just before the Iraq invasion with those from George’s post-graduation days of besotted aimlessness, propped up by an enabling father and a shrill mother (Ellen Burstyn). Junior (as his dad calls him) is just about the least-likely candidate for any public office, let alone a steady, paying job. Anytime he eludes trouble or lands someplace (Harvard Business School, for example), it’s because “Poppy” pulled strings. Resentment and combativeness characterize their relationship, to the point were the son has nightmares about never escaping his father’s baleful judgment.
The plot line is greatly compressed, skipping over large swathes of George’s development: His courtship and marriage to Laura (Elizabeth Banks) in a few brief scenes; his governership of Texas; his election to the presidency. It’s the personal details that are preserved: of course, his ongoing struggle with his father, his power tussle with Cheney (who’s smart enough to let his boss think he’s “the decider”), the choking beer-pretzel incident, the press conference gaffs.
The movie’s score uses theme music to make satirical points. And the camerawork, directed by Phedon Papamichael, employs a lot of handheld techniques to give a journalistic, even voyeuristic feel. We’ve become so accustomed to “reality” being delivered by TV action news teams; that’s how veracity is conveyed in movies these days.
Although the performances could easily have tipped the film over into a kind of extended comedy skit, the actors treat their roles straight. Brolin skirts the edge, but it’s hard not to with even the real-life W. He has channeled the man’s voice and his movements with uncanny accuracy. Still, there’s something sympathetic, even a little sad, about this second son who has spent his life trying to measure up. As Rice, Newton is so amazing, she does Condoleezza better than Tina Fey does Sarah Palin. Perhaps because he’s not playing any one person, the venerable Stacy Keach delivers the most heartfelt and convincing performance of the lot. And his small role is crucial.
That’s because the crux of the film is George’s prayer session with his Bible-study group leader, Earle Hudd (Keach), who is a composite of various evangelical preachers George had acquaintance with. After this, George stops drinking and commits his life to Christ. This gives him a sense of confidence and focus he never had. But it does not give him insight or political wisdom.
That’s Stone’s message. For W., divine guidance both straightened out his own life’s path while twisting things for the rest of us. Stay to the end of the credits and hear a young Bob Dylan singing With God on Our Side and the lyrics “…you never ask questions when God’s on your side.” The image of a cross then morphs into the picture’s title, “W.”
Rated PG-13 for language including sexual references, some alcohol abuse, smoking and brief disturbing war images.

