Adam McKay's "Vice is one of those films that, at times, left me in thrall to many of its artistic elements, while nonetheless leaving me frustrated -- and, frankly, bored -- at the whole. Certain of these artistic elements -- Patrice Vermette's production design, Susan Matheson's costuming, and the makeup design (done by numerous talented hands) -- are superb throughout the film, setting the framework for what could be a compelling chronicle of the rise to power of former Vice President Dick Cheney. Unfortunately, many of the remaining elements are wildly inconsistent, transforming what should have been a powerful examination of a Machiavellian rise to power into a scattershot and confusing polemic that badly misses its target.
The film's structure is episodic, but linear, with the first half tracking Cheney's life from 1963 (as a directionless young man steered by his driven wife), through his days as an acolyte to then-Congressman Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell), up through the ladders of power in the Nixon and Ford White Houses, on to a decade as a Wyoming congressman, and culminating in his tenure as Secretary of Defense in the first Bush Administration, overseeing the First Gulf War. The second half tracks his rise to the Vice Presidency and eventual domination of the second Bush Administration, through 9/11, the war on terror, and the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.
While the journey through the first half of the film contains some interesting elements, nothing really grabs hold of the viewer because of the herky-jerky nature of the episodic story telling, and McKay's annoying habit of interrupting what story flow there is with would-be clever asides. These types of asides and episodic storytelling were used to good effect in McKay's "The Big Short", where they were essential to understanding the scope and details of the mortgage and financial crises of the prior decade -- in "The Big Short", they acted a lot like footnotes or comment balloons in explaining matters unfamiliar to those who don't read the Wall Street Journal or Forbes; in "Vice", these techniques fall flat, largely for two reasons. First, because the concepts underlying "Vice" are much easier for a layman to grasp, weaving them more directly into the story would be far less problematic than disrupting the flow with asides -- indeed, this same logic explains why the inclusion of Jesse Plemons as a third-party narrator is a seriously misguided and confusing directorial choice. Second, many of the underlying episodes are dealt with in such a perfunctory, check-the-boxes fashion, that they don't really provide us with anything more than a reference point for later in the film; in "The Big Short", the asides helped to deepen the viewer's understanding of what came next, while in "Vice", they simply provide us with a point of repetition, without any real understanding of the events or impacts on the characters that follow. This jokey approach to the material culminates in a phony credits sequence halfway through the film that is both unfunny and unnecessary.
Although the second half of the film is equally episodic, it works somewhat better than the first half, as it covers Cheney's tenure as Vice President and devotes more time and thought to the various episodes. Some of these sequences are particularly interesting, including the set of episodes leading to Colin Powell's decisive speech before the U.N. justifying the invasion of Iraq (with fine supporting work from Tyler Perry as Powell and LisaGay Hamilton as Condoleezza Rice). Even in these later sequences, however, McKay's weakness for cheap jokes and overstatement gets the better of him. For example, the "restaurant sequence," in which Alfred Molina does a cameo of a waiter serving Cheney, Rumsfeld and other neocons recites the "specials" (i.e., various types of torture and euphemisms for it) is clearly intended as biting satire on the callousness of the architects of the war on terror, but plays instead like an ill-conceived Monty Python skit. Likewise, McKay's lack of subtlety betrays itself with the film's representation of George W. Bush's (Sam Rockwell) speech to the nation announcing the commencement of the Iraq War: rather than subtly emphasize Bush's nervousness/fear by keeping him in full frame from the side (showing both the resolute upper half of his body and his shaking leg), McKay chooses to zoom in on the leg for what seems like forever, and then cuts to an identical mannerism from the father of a terrified Iraqi family undergoing bombardment. This plays more like a bad comic nudging us in the ribs to emphasize a punchline, rather than an experienced director confident in his message.
This lack of subtlety and character depth in McKay's script also undermines what is clearly some very hard work by some of the most talented actors working today. Christian Bale's method acting in this role has been well-publicized, and it's clear he's pulling from some pretty deep reservoirs in playing this role, but that's the problem -- because McKay's script doesn't give the character much dimension, I was never quite able to pull back from the idea that I was watching an actor "acting", rather than seeing a character unfold on screen. Likewise, Amy Adams' Lynne Cheney is laser-focused, but McKay doesn't give her anything else to do, having written her as a one-note Lady Macbeth (without any of the subconscious self-awareness). Their relationship together is equally one-dimensional -- fueled by a lust for power and little else -- and gives us nothing resembling any growth or change in the characters over the course of the film. Likewise, the relationship between the Cheney parents and their daughters (particularly as it relates to Mary Cheney's (Allison Pill) sexuality) feels like little more than another box to be checked off for later reference. Pill and Lily Rabe are fine given the what they are given to do, which is unfortunately not a lot. Nor is Sam Rockwell -- last year's Best Supporting Actor for his superb work in "Three Billboards..." -- given much to work with; he doesn't play George W. as a complete imbecile, but he's drawn so passively as to make the character instantly forgettable. Indeed, one has to wonder how much more interesting it might have been to continue the story so as to play up the tensions of the later Bush administration, when W. began to free himself from Cheney's grip, as it would have added a new dimension to both characters. The best performance in the film comes from Carell, doing Rumsfeld justice as a man who thinks he is building Cheney up in his own cynical image, only to find himself betrayed, eclipsed, and disgraced by Cheney in the end: while Bale and Adams do a weird Shakespearean (or pseudo-Shakespearean) reading in one scene, Carell's Rumsfeld actually gets to play the tragic Shakespearean role.
As noted earlier, "Vice" has a good deal going for it in some of its artistic elements and some of its performances to recommend, but the ambitious take that McKay takes on the material is fatally undermined by his own wildly inconsistent screenplay and direction, and in turn takes down some very talented actors with him.
The film's structure is episodic, but linear, with the first half tracking Cheney's life from 1963 (as a directionless young man steered by his driven wife), through his days as an acolyte to then-Congressman Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell), up through the ladders of power in the Nixon and Ford White Houses, on to a decade as a Wyoming congressman, and culminating in his tenure as Secretary of Defense in the first Bush Administration, overseeing the First Gulf War. The second half tracks his rise to the Vice Presidency and eventual domination of the second Bush Administration, through 9/11, the war on terror, and the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.
While the journey through the first half of the film contains some interesting elements, nothing really grabs hold of the viewer because of the herky-jerky nature of the episodic story telling, and McKay's annoying habit of interrupting what story flow there is with would-be clever asides. These types of asides and episodic storytelling were used to good effect in McKay's "The Big Short", where they were essential to understanding the scope and details of the mortgage and financial crises of the prior decade -- in "The Big Short", they acted a lot like footnotes or comment balloons in explaining matters unfamiliar to those who don't read the Wall Street Journal or Forbes; in "Vice", these techniques fall flat, largely for two reasons. First, because the concepts underlying "Vice" are much easier for a layman to grasp, weaving them more directly into the story would be far less problematic than disrupting the flow with asides -- indeed, this same logic explains why the inclusion of Jesse Plemons as a third-party narrator is a seriously misguided and confusing directorial choice. Second, many of the underlying episodes are dealt with in such a perfunctory, check-the-boxes fashion, that they don't really provide us with anything more than a reference point for later in the film; in "The Big Short", the asides helped to deepen the viewer's understanding of what came next, while in "Vice", they simply provide us with a point of repetition, without any real understanding of the events or impacts on the characters that follow. This jokey approach to the material culminates in a phony credits sequence halfway through the film that is both unfunny and unnecessary.
Although the second half of the film is equally episodic, it works somewhat better than the first half, as it covers Cheney's tenure as Vice President and devotes more time and thought to the various episodes. Some of these sequences are particularly interesting, including the set of episodes leading to Colin Powell's decisive speech before the U.N. justifying the invasion of Iraq (with fine supporting work from Tyler Perry as Powell and LisaGay Hamilton as Condoleezza Rice). Even in these later sequences, however, McKay's weakness for cheap jokes and overstatement gets the better of him. For example, the "restaurant sequence," in which Alfred Molina does a cameo of a waiter serving Cheney, Rumsfeld and other neocons recites the "specials" (i.e., various types of torture and euphemisms for it) is clearly intended as biting satire on the callousness of the architects of the war on terror, but plays instead like an ill-conceived Monty Python skit. Likewise, McKay's lack of subtlety betrays itself with the film's representation of George W. Bush's (Sam Rockwell) speech to the nation announcing the commencement of the Iraq War: rather than subtly emphasize Bush's nervousness/fear by keeping him in full frame from the side (showing both the resolute upper half of his body and his shaking leg), McKay chooses to zoom in on the leg for what seems like forever, and then cuts to an identical mannerism from the father of a terrified Iraqi family undergoing bombardment. This plays more like a bad comic nudging us in the ribs to emphasize a punchline, rather than an experienced director confident in his message.
This lack of subtlety and character depth in McKay's script also undermines what is clearly some very hard work by some of the most talented actors working today. Christian Bale's method acting in this role has been well-publicized, and it's clear he's pulling from some pretty deep reservoirs in playing this role, but that's the problem -- because McKay's script doesn't give the character much dimension, I was never quite able to pull back from the idea that I was watching an actor "acting", rather than seeing a character unfold on screen. Likewise, Amy Adams' Lynne Cheney is laser-focused, but McKay doesn't give her anything else to do, having written her as a one-note Lady Macbeth (without any of the subconscious self-awareness). Their relationship together is equally one-dimensional -- fueled by a lust for power and little else -- and gives us nothing resembling any growth or change in the characters over the course of the film. Likewise, the relationship between the Cheney parents and their daughters (particularly as it relates to Mary Cheney's (Allison Pill) sexuality) feels like little more than another box to be checked off for later reference. Pill and Lily Rabe are fine given the what they are given to do, which is unfortunately not a lot. Nor is Sam Rockwell -- last year's Best Supporting Actor for his superb work in "Three Billboards..." -- given much to work with; he doesn't play George W. as a complete imbecile, but he's drawn so passively as to make the character instantly forgettable. Indeed, one has to wonder how much more interesting it might have been to continue the story so as to play up the tensions of the later Bush administration, when W. began to free himself from Cheney's grip, as it would have added a new dimension to both characters. The best performance in the film comes from Carell, doing Rumsfeld justice as a man who thinks he is building Cheney up in his own cynical image, only to find himself betrayed, eclipsed, and disgraced by Cheney in the end: while Bale and Adams do a weird Shakespearean (or pseudo-Shakespearean) reading in one scene, Carell's Rumsfeld actually gets to play the tragic Shakespearean role.
As noted earlier, "Vice" has a good deal going for it in some of its artistic elements and some of its performances to recommend, but the ambitious take that McKay takes on the material is fatally undermined by his own wildly inconsistent screenplay and direction, and in turn takes down some very talented actors with him.