As a political document, W. feels a bit dated. Maybe it's that this country, and its politics, have been treating our president like a has-been for more than a year now; light-hearted cinematic indictment feels a lot less urgent when you know the object of the indictment has mostly checked out.
But primarily it's that the audience, if they are political beings, has heard it all before. Far too frequently, W. comes across as if it lifted its script directly from an old Maureen Dowd column—you know, the kind in which she writes a fictional scene and offers dialogue, set inside the White House or on the campaign trail, that archly describes what liberals imagine is happening anyway. Dick Cheney pulling the puppet strings. Karl Rove acting like a detestable troll. Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice getting steamrolled by the neocons. The president being too ill-informed and feckless, for the most part, to notice. By failing to move past the Dowd satire—and the pop-psychology orthodoxy that posits George Bush as suffering from a losing combination of untreated alcoholism, delusions of grandeur, and a serious Oedipus complex—W. ends up feeling like déjà vu.
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On top of that, the movie essentially ends at the Iraq war. Yes, that war is, and will be, the defining mistake of Bush's first term. But by ending there, Stone contributes to the dated feeling of the film. Nothing about Katrina. Very little about FISA, the PATRIOT Act, and torture. Nothing about the financial crisis (yes, the financial crisis of the last month would have been a near impossibility to include in a film released October 17, but its notable absence points up Stone's hubris in making a picture about Bush's two terms before they're even over).
It's hard to say for sure how liberals, who are certainly Stone's intended audience, will react to this movie. A lot of them probably can't get enough of seeing Bush mocked and deconstructed, and will therefore love this. But a good number of them, one suspects, will be bored—they'll go in wanting a new, revelatory way of seeing the president and come out having had a few good chuckles amid one long, familiar flashback that they're very ready not to have happen again.
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Oliver Stone is not a comedian (his Colbert Report appearance was just fucking weird). People in attendance surely were laughing at Bush's swagger and misappropriation of the English language, all stuff we've seen before, as pointed out. I couldn't really laugh, though. I felt sorry for Bush, for everyone that was duped by this administration, and for everyone that was sitting in the theater being pandered to by this movie; as a friend pointed out, an act of group "masturbation." The historical fact is a very interesting story of how we let our democracy be derailed by the neocons, but I can't laugh at this. I'd rather watch Frontline or something. At least then I wouldn't feel like I was stuck in some kind of liberal circle-jerk, just depressed.
I agree that Oliver Stone jumped the gun in this case. I, myself could never find much humor in the president's awkward fumblings in love, academia, and the life pursuit; the hyperbole of dramitazation only brings more discomfort rather than high-fives and self congratulatory backslaps in response to the regular stream of gaffes and improprieties doled out with alarming consistency, courtesy of the would be president.
I oppose president Bush's leadership just as much as the next guy, but I can emphasize any more that this biopic offers little insight into what is already known or perceived already about president Bush.
It is off the mark and not worthy of the cost of admission. I would reccomend watching Keith Olbermann on MSNBC's Countdown if one savors the flagellation of self-righteous conservative blowhards.
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