The American President doesn’t belong to another era. It belongs to another universe. Aaron Sorkin’s sparkling screenplay depicts a quaint fantasyland wherein practical idealists can still rise high and change the world. In this other-verse, when the widower president dates a single woman, it’s a pearl-clutching scandal. Meanwhile, our painful reality is that headlines about couch-humping candidates and immigrants devouring pets is just another Tuesday. With every three-ring hee-haw news cycle, we step a little further away from the sunny optimism of American President. The hideousness of modern politics makes it difficult to rate a fluffy experience like this. Do I listen to the hopefulness in my heart or the cynicism in my head?
We’ll come back to that in a bit. In the meantime, let’s dissect Sorkin’s stab at a rom-com: As the film opens, President Andrew Shepherd (Michael Douglas) cruises into an election year. He’s erudite, principled, charismatic, and handsome. Shepherd’s approval rating hovers in the 60s, and he aims to leverage that popularity to pass two liberal dream bills on gun control and climate change.
Of course, there’s one wrinkle in all this: Shepherd is a widower, and his loneliness is becoming more pronounced. When he meets Sydney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening), a feisty, witty lobbyist, a romantic interest kindles. Shepherd wants to court Sydney, but this courtship comes with potential peril. Can the president form a relationship under the withering gaze of the media? Will his glowing approval numbers take a hit?
From that basic plot, Sorkin builds himself a playground. We get lots of breathless dialogue about policy and big, show-stopping monologues. All this governmental brouhaha is really just a trial run for dozens of later episodes of The West Wing, Sorkin’s magnum opus. And, just like that show, director Rob Reiner sets his cameraman loose on long tracking shots, until we’re almost out of breath from watching them.
Reiner also deploys the perfect cast for Sorkin’s bubbly repartee. Douglas became a superstar by playing yuppie apex predators, so it’s nice to see a softer side. Andrew Shepherd has the affable smile of a sitcom dad, but he also gets the brawniest (and meanest) of Sorkin’s speeches. The result is one of the actor’s most nuanced performances. Likewise, Bening vibes right into the film’s style of humor (and Frank Capra references) and endows Sydney with the quick-fire snark of old-school comedies like His Girl Friday and Bringing Up Baby.
As the romantic leads banter into each other’s arms, Reiner swirls an all-star cast around them. Martin Sheen is A.J., Shepherd’s best buddy and chief of staff. Michael J. Fox and David Paymer are the overworked, overcaffeinated policy wonks who seem to communicate only through graphs and spreadsheets. Anna Deavere Smith plays the smart, snappy press secretary, thus giving Sorkin a rough draft for Allison Janney’s C.J. Cregg.
Of course, this political fairytale wouldn’t be complete without a villain, and Sorkin cooks up a doozy. Bob Rumson (Richard Dreyfuss) is the kind of hissable Republican a Democrat might build out of a kit: His aloof, abstinent hatefulness lands somewhere between Bob Dole and Dick Cheney, both of whom had all the likability of wet cardboard. The Rumson character is a key divergence from The West Wing: In that show, Republicans were largely depicted as respectful rivals who often stood on noble conservative principles. Here, they’re cloak room jerkwads who clutch brandy snifters and dream up evil plans to cock block the president. I get that a story like this needs probably needs a one-dimensional heel, but it’s still a little disappointing.
A story like this also relies on a forgone conclusion, so Sorkin and Reiner make damn sure you enjoy yourself along the way. President is a lavish production, and no expense is spared. John Seale’s cinematography is luminous, imbuing every shot with a vibrant, otherworldly beauty. That goes ditto for Marc Shaiman’s patriotic deployment of trumpets and snares on the soundtrack. Finally, Karen O’Hara’s set design probably bumps this entire review by a full star. From formal dinners in the State Dining Room to quiet moments in the China Room, it always feels like you are there.
At the same time, we aren’t there. That leads back to the central conundrum of a unabashedly naive movie like The American President. The sociopathic mudslinging of modern politics comes at a heavy price. Our collective innocence has been stripped to the studs. No institution can be trusted anymore. Sorkin clearly built this story as a beacon of optimism, in which a seeker of the White House could be moral, intelligent, and ambitious, all at once. He makes it even more audacious with the saccharine notion that love can conquer all. I still want to believe all that. You know why? ‘Cause deep down, I’m a huge sucker. My heart will always outrank my brain. So, I’ll go ahead and slap a good rating on this movie, and we’ll keep hoping for the best.
113 min. PG-13. On demand.
