Four stars. Rated R, and perhaps too harshly, for profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.26.20
Scathing. Savage. Shrewd. Smart.
And hilarious.
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| Having decided to enter the local mayoral race, Jack Hastings (Chris Cooper, left) proudly introduces a sheepish Gary Zimmer (Steve Carell) as his wildly over-qualified campaign manager. |
Everything a biting political satire should be.
Writer/director Jon Stewart’s well-timed broadside is a deliciously blistering indictment of the win-no-matter-what mentality that currently polarizes our country. As with all perceptive parables, the message is delivered via a premise and setting writ small: the better to make the point inescapable.
Add a brilliantly assembled cast, and the result is, well, irresistible.
An opening montage breezes through a series of carefully crafted, insufferably staged photo-ops that place past presidential candidates in cozy Midwestern settings: all intended to demonstrate that, no matter their über-wealthy lifestyles, they’re still “one with the humble folk.” The final shot places Democratic National Committee strategist Gary Zimmer (Steve Carell) in the midst of the Trump/Clinton fracas, which — as we know — ends quite badly for the latter.
Much to the delight of Gary’s arch-enemy, Republican National Committee strategist Faith Brewster (Rose Byrne, deliciously snooty).
Elsewhere, times have grown tough for the small rural community of Deerlaken, Wis. When Mayor Braun (Brent Sexton) and the town council reflexively enact cuts that target the local undocumented workers, this proves one callous act too many for Jack Hastings (Chris Cooper), a retired Marine colonel who runs a dairy farm with his adult daughter, Diana (Mackenzie Davis).
Jack, clearly not comfortable with public speaking, nonetheless interrupts the town council meeting with a brief, stirring statement advocating that “We all need to look out for each other.” The moment goes viral via social media, and quickly comes to the attention of Gary, still licking his wounds.
Tantalized by the possibility of winning back voters in America’s heartland, Gary flies across the country and makes an unscheduled visit to the farm, hoping to persuade the apolitical Jack to run for mayor.
Gary’s impulsive arrival in Deerlaken prompts amusement from the locals, and this is where the subtlety of Stewart’s writing and directing shines. Although regarding Gary with the wary skepticism that might be reserved for a visitor from outer space — which he is, in more ways than one — the townsfolk are cheerfully polite and solicitous, often with a twinkle in the eye.
Carell, in turn, ensures we realize that Gary knows he’s a fish out of water, so he obligingly rolls with the mild gibes. It becomes a fascinating, quite amusing dance.
Jack ultimate agrees to challenge Braun for the mayor’s chair, on the condition that Gary personally supervises the campaign. The latter leaps to the challenge, with help from Diana and a gaggle of volunteers who possess far more enthusiasm than comprehension.
They don’t get the benefit of much momentum. Within days, Faith and her far more experienced entourage blow into town, to counter-campaign on behalf of the incumbent. The next phase is equally inevitable: Both National Committees turn on the fund-raising spigot, and this modest mayoral race becomes a referendum for the soul of America.
What’s most impressive is the even-handed degree to which Stewart handles this material. There aren’t any actual villains here — except, perhaps, for Gary and Faith — and the story gently castigates knee-jerk stereotypes held by both Republicans and Democrats. Stewart is more interested in putting the process on trial: the shred-the-tent extremes that have made compromise a sign of “weakness,” and driven such a wedge between people.
The habitually laconic Cooper is note-perfect as a quiet, salt-of-the-earth type: a somewhat reclusive man reluctantly trying to embrace the consequences of his rash (but heartfelt) stand. He also gives Jack a droll, Midwestern sense of humor frequently punctuated by a wry gaze and twitching half-grin.
Cooper’s stand-out moment comes when Gary flies Jack back to D.C., in order to solicit donations from a coterie of wealthy — but vacuous — Democratic aristocrats. (Stewart definitely makes fun of them. Easy target.) Jack’s effort to “blend” is priceless; we can’t help empathizing.
Carell makes ample use of the mildly prissy, blustery personality quirks that have served him so well, in so many earlier projects. Gary seems well-meaning, but we’re never entirely sure he’s sincere; elements of his behavior seem too calculated, as if he’s just playing a role (which he undoubtedly is).
But he relaxes and thaws in Diana’s company; the attraction is palpable. Davis exudes warmth and flirty charm, much as she did in 2018’s undersung Tully.
Byrne’s ironically named Faith is haughty, condescending and cold as ice, her stiletto heels as much a part of her personality, as the chill gaze that makes one think of a lepidopterist pinning a live butterfly to a board.
Sexton exudes smirky invincibility as Mayor Braun; Topher Grace and Natasha Lyonne are a hoot as, respectively, Gary’s polling expert and data analytics consultant. Their input increases the story’s sardonic edge, as this tiny mayoral race spins out of control.
As the third act builds to its climax, Stewart uncorks one of the best plot twists I’ve ever encountered.
We’ve had no shortage of sharp-edged political movies over the years, and I’ve always been fond of those that focus on campaign tactics and misfires; Wag the Dog, The Ides of March and Primary Colors immediately leap to mind, as does Robert Redford’s memorable starring role in 1972’s deliciously cynical The Candidate.
Stewart’s equally savvy dramedy definitely belongs in their company. It should be required viewing for all voters and candidates, regardless of political leaning; there’s much to be learned here.
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