Unelectabler

Galifianakis and Ferrell, on the hustings.

«« The Campaign. Written by Chris Henchy & Shawn Harwell. Directed by Jay Roach. 

Marx said that figures plays their roles in history first as tragedy, then as farce. Now that we are in our umpteenth national campaign season, the American Politician has apparently gone way beyond farce, deep into poop and pee joke territory. Or at least that's how it seems in Jay Roach's comedy of political ineptness, The Campaign.

            Now you might go into this movie with the tradition of Hollywood movies about politics in mind--films like The Candidate, Primary Colors, Bob Roberts, Bulworth, among others. That, of course, would be a mistake, because director Roach is the one who gave us Meet the Parents, Austin Powers, Dinner for Schmucks and other comedies of social embarrassment--as well as Game Change, an HBO movie that was about Sarah Palin and therefore, by the very nature of its subject, embarrassing.

            And so Roach earns his paycheck in his usual way, offering up episodes of grotesque humiliation on the part of two candidates for Congress in the great state of North Carolina. The Democratic incumbent, Cam Brady (Will Ferrell) is an egomaniac with the intellectual heft of George W. Bush and the libido of Bill Clinton. He's used to running unopposed in his deeply blue district, but after he drunkenly misdials a fundamentalist Christian family instead of his mistress ("I want to get freaky with our tongues..."), a pair of scheming CEOs called the "Motch" brothers sense an opportunity. They bankroll the swishy but sweet Marty Huggins (Zach Galifianakis) to run on the Republican ticket. The mud-fight that follows includes Cam giving a baby a slug across the jaw, a public cuckholding for Marty, and some old-school backwoods hunting, Dick Cheney-style.

            Now it's undeniable that, for satirists, the modern American political landscape offers up a target-rich environment. When making comedy about this subject, the problem isn't finding material but staying ahead of it, keeping the satire one step beyond the absurd reality. Unfortunately, Roach and screenwriters Chris Henchy and Shawn Harwell interpret this challenge as a license not for a more cutting, more sophisticated kind of absurdity, but to go juvenile, to give us the Dumb and Dumber of campaign movies.

            There are some laughs here, to be sure--especially to folks like yours truly, in close touch with his inner child. Ferrell has a lock on this kind of role, combining a big physical presence with breathtaking idiocy in a way that is unique to him. Galifianakis, who has the talent to take on "straight" roles a la Robin Williams, is a good foil as he plays a personality much smaller and milder than his girth. And Henchy and Harwell are right to take particular aim at the consequences of the Supreme Court's disastrous Citizens United decision, which legitimized the sale of our politics to corporate raiders like the "Motch" (Koch) brothers.

            But the likely effect of dopey material like The Campaign isn't a more savvy, active citizenry. Instead, it will promote the kind of complacent resignation that shrugs its shoulders and says "They're all crooked jackasses, so why bother?" At the end of the film the chastened Cam and Marty atone for their antics by daring to be honest about themselves to the public. "I once farted in an elevator and blamed an innocent woman," says Marty; "I never read the bills I vote on," grants Cam, admitting that he prefers to sit in his office and play Words with Friends. The film's call for personal honesty in politics sounds good, but misses the larger point: we don't necessarily need politicians to tell us the truth about themselves. We need them to tell the truth about the state of our country.

            Imagine someone in power actually said we can't have a robust social safety net, a military bigger than the next 25 countries, decent infrastructure, first-rate education and science, a climate we can live with, and low taxes, all at the same time. Imagine him or her saying we need to chose five from that list, and maybe as few as three. Imagine that, and it's hard to hear anybody laughing. But it would more helpful than any movie.   

© 2012 Nicholas Nicastro