George W. Bush will go down as one of the worst presidents in U.S. history, having led his country into a thoughtless war and economic crisis. His presidency has been endlessly parodied and scrutinized, and it was only a matter of time before Oliver Stone made his own biopic. The result, W., is a witless, awful film mired in unintentional hilarity, with performances ranging from unaffecting to utterly baffling, and offering not one insight into Bush’s character.
It's the least Oliver Stone-ish movie Oliver Stone has done — there's no grainy footage or long explications on various conspiracy theories. Rather, it has all the dull esthetic appeal of an extended Saturday Night Live sketch. At two hours, the film feels half-finished, noticeably strange coming from Stone, who often burdens his films with bloated running times (a fault I'm sure will be rectified when the four-hour W.: The Director's Cut appears on DVD). Mundane details are given great attention (Bush choking on a pretzel), yet the most obviously significant events — his behaviour on 9/11 and the days immediately following its aftermath — aren't touched on at all. According to Stone, Bush's rise from shiftless idiot to politician is much like an episode of The Dukes of Hazzard — just a good ol' southern boy getting mixed up in some wacky hijinks.
The film’s early focus is Bush (a spacey Josh Brolin) during his hazing days as a college freshman. He drinks and drinks and drinks (yet, curiously, his dalliances with drugs aren't mentioned at all). He's content to get drunk, womanize and loaf around, much to the discontent of his father, George Bush Sr. (James Cromwell). The narrative then begins to shift between W's life leading up to the presidency, the period preceeding the Iraq war and his infamous arrival on an aircraft carrier for a press conference, foolishly heralding “Mission accomplished!”
Aside from some perfunctory scenes with his wife Laura (Elizabeth Banks), the film mainly deals with roundtable discussions between Bush’s advisors. There's Dick Cheney (Richard Dreyfuss); Donald Rumsfeld (Scott Glenn); Colin Powell (Jeffery Wright), who comes off as a shining knight here; Karl Rove (Toby Jones), Bush's own Great Gazoo; and Condoleeza Rice (Thandie Newton), in one of the most hilarious performances ever put to film — a twitching, autistic mess. Tony Blair shows up briefly to offer his two cents as well (Ioan Gruffudd, in the most un-British performance by a British actor that I've ever seen).
Stone rushed post-production to get W. into theatres before the election. He might not be happy to know it will have no effect whatsoever — except, perhaps, as a future camp classic.
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