"The following is a true story. Or true as it can be given that Dick Cheney is known as one of the most secretive leaders in history. But we did our fucking best."
These words written in yellow text preface the film, informing us that this is hardly cinematic journalism.
This is not inherently an issue. Liberties must be taken in every narrative feature, either because names must be changed or because not all the facts could be verified or because simply for dramatic flourish. This is all quite valid, this is narrative cinema, intended to engage, not lecture.
However, therein lies the problem. In spite of its quite unusual editorial aesthetic, intended to evoke laughter towards the absurdity of the proceedings, it feels very much like a lecture. And not a lecture given by one who wishes to teach but a mean-spirited lecture given by one who looks down upon their students, chiding them for not already having all the facts and beating them over the head with said facts in a desperate flaunting of intelligence.
"And with people working longer and longer hours," the film's narration says over footage of the working class, "for less and less, when we do have free time, the last thing we want is complicated analysis of our government, lobbying, international trade agreements, and tax bills," which is then spoken over footage of two young ladies at some sort of rave or concert, dancing madly, shaking and bobbing their heads intensely.
This narration is sympathetic to those who simply want to escape from the absolute chaos running in the background of American life. But the imagery its juxtaposed against is judgmental; this specific footage of two young women having fun, happening to look somewhat foolish while doing so, is framed as judgement towards an ignorant populace, for not knowing the things the movie knows and not sharing that supposed intelligence.
And yet... the more we watch the movie, the more we see that the film isn't very interested in educating us either. We don't really seem to come away with much new information. We learn a little bit about the the concept of the Unitary Executive Theory and about the Torture Memos and some decent background context but never really seem to delve much into how those things work. Despite the film stating that "the last thing we want is complicated analysis of government" (which is an odd claim given you're presumably narrating to an audience that opted to see a complicated analysis of government), it never actually analyzes... anything. I understand things such as this can prove rather dry cinematically, of course. But if a film like All the President's Men can handle such dense jargon and vast amounts of information, Vice has not much excuse regarding the explanation of the concepts presented.
Because literally flashing the words Unitary Executive Theory on screen several times like we're inattentive children doesn't help us understand how it works or really what it is outside of a vague concept or idea. And for all the cheeky cutaways to butterfly knives and fly fishing--which serve as heavy handed metaphor for political precision and the "reeling people in" of politics--comedic freeze frames, and all the sardonic narration meant to let us in on politics fueling Dick Cheney's rise to power, we ultimately don't receive enough context to understand how Cheney got to the place of power he occupied.
The film's aesthetic choices come off as though it is meant to hold the attention of an inattentive audience, yet it teaches us nothing as it drowns in its own editorial and musical histrionics, its willingness to blur the line between reality and fiction in a manner all too irresponsible and, frankly, immature. (Take for example the film accusing Lynne Cheney's father of murdering his wife, despite all evidence suggesting the opposite, as well as the fact that he literally drank himself to death two years later)
The great cinematic satirists have known exactly how to juxtapose image to image, image to music (look no further than Stanley Kubrick) for the sake of the search for truth, but McKay seems lost in these intentions. Some attempts work well enough--Cheney being informed of the Unitary Executive Theory is one such moment, which lets us in on Cheney's predatory personality through a single shit-eating grin--but ultimately this editorial aesthetic is incredibly misguided and serves only to obfuscate McKay's ultimate points about the government and about Dick Cheney himself.
And what does the film have to say about Dick Cheney? What does the film teach us about the inner life of his character based on Dick Cheney? Well, nothing really. As a result of the intended edutainment meant to stem from the idiosyncratic editing style, the film will not allow itself the time nor space for us to get to know him or his family very well at all. There's a genuinely well done heart motif throughout the film relating to Dick's faulty heart, his metaphorical heart bordering on the side of corruption but beating on, keeping him tied to the love of his family. Once his heart is replaced (with that of the *fictional* narrator's, one who served in the Iraq War, possibly a metaphor for how Cheney has robbed the common man of their heart and sucked them dry, used them) after a particularly nasty and potential fatal heart failure, he loses sight of that for good, with all the goodness in Cheney dying as he loses his heart.
But it's ultimately an emotional arc for a character we ultimately never really know. Yes, Cheney is quite secretive, his family life is something we don't know a lot about, but when in doubt, one must commit to the rules of fiction; help us care. We want to care about the people we see on screen, we seek to connect with those we watch or read about. This is where fiction is allowed to step in, not untrue nonsense about a murderous father that ultimately goes nowhere or wasting time on a Shakespearean soliloquy that stretches for over 3 minutes and serves not character nor narrative nor education.
In spite of this flagrant disregard for narrative real estate in the name of a form of cinematic peacocking the film still insists upon its own intelligence and upon the lack of intelligence in its viewers, right down to the very end.
At the end of the narrative, Cheney is interviewed regarding his potential regrets. He voices his position of knowing he is judged and being okay with it, voices that he did what he felt he had to do, asks what terrorist attacks people would let slide to "not seem like a mean and nasty fella." He insists that he will not apologize for any of his actions, justifies them thoroughly. He says the people "chose him" and did what they asked of him. The words themselves are not the problem, they are the bewildering delusions of a man who will do anything to justify his abhorrent behavior.
The problem is that to express this, Cheney breaks the fourth wall, speaking downward towards the audience with the camera pointed upward at him. Regardless of intent, this seems to place the onus directly on the audience, talking down to them, insisting that it is their fault rather than meeting them where they're at. It reeks of a perspective that fails to understand the intricacies of the political climate, then and now, and instead falls prey to the very same generalizations a worrying amount of people on both sides of the political spectrum fall prey to as well.*
The song "I Like to Be In America" from West Side Story plays (which my mother called tasteless) over various credits of decorated fishing hooks (*sighs*) before a final credits tag that reveals a lot about McKay's thoughts of the climate.
The film ends with a focus group shown earlier in the film remarking upon the film we just watched; one man, overweight and donning a football jersey, a Trump voter, notes Vice's perceived liberal bias. Another man, framed as the voice of reason, notes that the film is "all facts that needed to be vetted by a lawyer" and that it makes no sense to state the film has a bias when the film is comprised of facts (which it is but loosely so).
The Trump voter says, verbatim; "You would say that, lib-tard."
The two get into an argument and begin fighting physically and as they do, a young woman turns to the lady next to her and says, verbatim; "I can't wait to see the new Fast and the Furious movie, that looks lit."
This shows us... pretty everything we have to know about McKay's stance on things today. It, ultimately, is the movie. It is overly simplistic, immensely self-aggrandizing to an insufferable degree, and... frankly... it's kind of boring. It's agitating, yes, and some things work, but ultimately, it's just more boring than if one had told the story directly. It *does* have a bias.
But its bias is not liberal or conservative or centrist; its bias is its ego, believing itself as more knowledgeable, more prescient, more morally superior to those who simply want to live their lives in peace.
If one desires to win people over, meet them where they are, talk to them as fellow humans, not problematic individuals to set straight. These were atrocities carried out over the course of the Iraq war, a mixture of deliberate action and incompetence. Unnecessary death tolls were incurred. So much pain and suffering experience for essentially nothing. Yes, the average Trump supporter may very well be rather dense or bullheaded or stubborn but one cannot think this way in the creation of art intended to encourage rational discourse.
One cannot speak down to everyone and expect people to listen. One cannot reduce human beings to the worst of this discourse, as bad as it can seem (and by God does it seem terrible) because everyone on the political spectrum will feel condescended to and tune out.
The tag is wrongheaded, it is condescending, it is deeply annoying. The film itself berates those who simply want to live their lives, who are not politically active and are not as well educated about such political matters.
But McKay, people went to see this movie. Not a lot of people, seeing as it bombed. But people saw it. Because some people were interested. And maybe if you had stepped back a little bit and focused on your intentions and read the room a little more, maybe it wouldn't have done so poorly. Maybe if you had done so, the discussion would have been just that much more complex and productive. Instead, it just seems you've shifted the Overton window that much more.
And I'm sure this film has done something for interesting people in the subject matter of the film. Frankly, that's worth this movie existing, the passion behind the movie is worth its existence.
I think McKay is brilliant. I think he has yet to make his best film. I think his Epstein film has the chance to be great, if it isn't mired in all of this extraneous nonsense.
However, Vice will stand in my mind as one thing in particular; a big fat piss-soaked zero.
- The Songbird
- The Songbird
