As a subcategory of the horror genre, the exorcism film does not have the best reputation. For every The Exorcist, there are a dozen Posessed’s and Beyond the Door’s. Yet, when done well, there is rarely something as profoundly [...]
In the forties, Robert Penn Warren’s novel All the King’s Men relayed a story of the danger of politics for good men, and the disillusionment delivered by the politically great. Now, George Clooney’s The Ides of March attempts to impart the same message.
March, co-written, directed, and starred in by Clooney, follows Steven (Ryan Gosling), an up and coming campaign staffer for Governor Mike Morris’s (Clooney) run for the Democratic primary. Steven finds his ideals challenged when he becomes a pawn in a game of campaign managers (Paul Giamatti and Philip Seymour Hoffman), reporters (Marisa Tomei), and interns (Evan Rachel Wood).
Clooney’s vision is clear and specific, if a bit narrow. Steven, an intelligent and seasoned consultant with an idealistic vision of political potential, is doomed by his own optimism. After years in the business, he believes that Morris is a politician unlike the others. When Duffy, Giamatti’s puffed up rival campaign manager, offers Steven a job, he argues, “I don’t have to play dirty anymore. I’ve got Morris.”
The painting of Steven’s character is handled exceptionally well, and the most intriguing part of the film is the behind-the-scenes look at the campaign. We see Steven as a puppeteer, carefully pulling strings to support his candidate, tip-toeing through the press. The delicacy of politics is the real wonder, and the insight Steven’s role gives the impression of a performance rather than a job.
But this sense of subtlety is quickly lost as the film delves into the supposedly tragic disillusionment of the optimist. Evan Rachel Wood’s Molly, Steven’s love interest with– surprise – a dark secret, seems more like a plot device than a character, and her acting is so reminiscent of high school theater that Gosling appears incapable of playing convincingly off her performance.
Aside from the over the top framing of scenes, such as a shot that places Steven lost in thought, silhouetted against a giant American flag, Clooney makes an ill-conceived choice in attempting to draw comparisons by framing scenes in ways that evoke images from organized crime films. While a subtle nod in this direction might be effective, scenes where dark political discussions occur in the shadowy kitchens of local restaurants appear manipulative and phony. Intended to lend the story arc a sense of higher stakes, and justify some of the melodrama, it fails deeply when the sense of danger fizzles out and we are reminded that this is a story of a primary campaign, not a mob takeover.
This is Clooney’s greatest mistake. In the end, politics are dramatic in subtle, and often intellectual ways. While the stakes are high, with the campaign and Steven’s career at risk, the fact remains that politics simply are not life and death. By creating a film about politics that chooses cheap tricks over remaining true to the tone and pace of politics, Clooney illustrates an inherent ignorance to his subject.
Perhaps what Clooney discovered is that the meat of politics is not screen worthy, or engaging, or dramatic. If the content of a campaign looked like the flashy glitz of March, then maybe the populace would be more eager to play a role in it. Clooney’s Morris seems more like a preacher than a politician, and while he parrots all the right opinions for the film’s demographic, Morris is simply, too good to be true.
In the end, the package leaves the impression of a glossy exterior with little thought behind it. But it does make you wonder, how many more people would turn out to vote if real politics looked this good in a suit?
March, co-written, directed, and starred in by Clooney, follows Steven (Ryan Gosling), an up and coming campaign staffer for Governor Mike Morris’s (Clooney) run for the Democratic primary. Steven finds his ideals challenged when he becomes a pawn in a game of campaign managers (Paul Giamatti and Philip Seymour Hoffman), reporters (Marisa Tomei), and interns (Evan Rachel Wood).
Clooney’s vision is clear and specific, if a bit narrow. Steven, an intelligent and seasoned consultant with an idealistic vision of political potential, is doomed by his own optimism. After years in the business, he believes that Morris is a politician unlike the others. When Duffy, Giamatti’s puffed up rival campaign manager, offers Steven a job, he argues, “I don’t have to play dirty anymore. I’ve got Morris.”
The painting of Steven’s character is handled exceptionally well, and the most intriguing part of the film is the behind-the-scenes look at the campaign. We see Steven as a puppeteer, carefully pulling strings to support his candidate, tip-toeing through the press. The delicacy of politics is the real wonder, and the insight Steven’s role gives the impression of a performance rather than a job.
But this sense of subtlety is quickly lost as the film delves into the supposedly tragic disillusionment of the optimist. Evan Rachel Wood’s Molly, Steven’s love interest with– surprise – a dark secret, seems more like a plot device than a character, and her acting is so reminiscent of high school theater that Gosling appears incapable of playing convincingly off her performance.
Aside from the over the top framing of scenes, such as a shot that places Steven lost in thought, silhouetted against a giant American flag, Clooney makes an ill-conceived choice in attempting to draw comparisons by framing scenes in ways that evoke images from organized crime films. While a subtle nod in this direction might be effective, scenes where dark political discussions occur in the shadowy kitchens of local restaurants appear manipulative and phony. Intended to lend the story arc a sense of higher stakes, and justify some of the melodrama, it fails deeply when the sense of danger fizzles out and we are reminded that this is a story of a primary campaign, not a mob takeover.This is Clooney’s greatest mistake. In the end, politics are dramatic in subtle, and often intellectual ways. While the stakes are high, with the campaign and Steven’s career at risk, the fact remains that politics simply are not life and death. By creating a film about politics that chooses cheap tricks over remaining true to the tone and pace of politics, Clooney illustrates an inherent ignorance to his subject.
Perhaps what Clooney discovered is that the meat of politics is not screen worthy, or engaging, or dramatic. If the content of a campaign looked like the flashy glitz of March, then maybe the populace would be more eager to play a role in it. Clooney’s Morris seems more like a preacher than a politician, and while he parrots all the right opinions for the film’s demographic, Morris is simply, too good to be true.
In the end, the package leaves the impression of a glossy exterior with little thought behind it. But it does make you wonder, how many more people would turn out to vote if real politics looked this good in a suit?
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