Tropic Sprockets / Vice

Tropic Sprockets / Vice

By Ian Brockway

­­“Vice” is Adam McKay’s sardonic Pop Art biopic of Vice President Dick Cheney, the man many still love to hate because of his responsibility for getting us in the war with Iraq in 2003. At the time, Cheney was Public Enemy #1 among the left, compared to Darth Vader. He had an exit approval of a mere 13%, and it is easy to see why. The film is many things: jarring, striking, yet unpleasant to watch. A little Cheney goes a long way and that may be too much.

The film begins in the 1960s. Cheney, a young man is an aggressive drinker who doesn’t know what to do. His wife Lynne has had enough and sets him on a new path. Played by Christian Bale in a marvelously accurate portrayal, he works his way up as an aide to Nixon, as a House Rep and then a staffer to Rumsfeld (Steve Carell) in the 1980s. Cheney learns to keep quiet and bide his time. He becomes Secretary of Defense under Bush 41. Soon after, Bush 43 (Sam Rockwell) asks him to be VP, as his ticket lacks experience.

Christian Bale is excellent as Cheney, but it is perhaps because he is so perfect that the film wears. He lurches, grimaces, winces and smirks. His head is stuck directly onto his shoulders, the neck non-existent.

Bale resembles pain personified. A political Grinch of sorts.

As VP, Cheney gets the concept of unitary powers, when the second in command can do virtually whatever he wants without consequence. In one scene Lynne (Amy Adams) and Dick are in bed reciting Shakespearean iambic pentameter with Linda Blair growls.

In the film, actor Jesse Plemmons plays a vet who dies when a car hits him, killing him instantly. Cheney takes his heart, claiming it for himself. To paraphrase the vet’s response: even though I am dead, I still find this depressing.

The reference is clear: The man has no heart. To underscore this point, we see his heart in the film, a pulpy repulsive thing. Part of an alien monster.

Point taken. But to what end? The film is too much of a dark caricature, too glib and mocking to produce any pensive thoughts or make a reflective time capsule. “Vice” is a master class in mimicry for Bale and Rockwell as well, who is a twin of George W., naively playful and hesitant, eager to please. The film is nearly wondrous in this aspect. But “Vice” cheats itself as a political cartoon, in spite of its invention.

Write Ian at [email protected]

by Ian Brockway

Vice

­­“Vice” is Adam McKay’s sardonic Pop Art biopic of Vice President Dick Cheney, the man many still love to hate because of his responsibility for getting us in the war with Iraq in 2003. At the time, Cheney was Public Enemy #1 among the left, compared to Darth Vader. He had an exit approval of a mere 13%, and it is easy to see why. The film is many things: jarring, striking, yet unpleasant to watch. A little Cheney goes a long way and that may be too much.

The film begins in the 1960s. Cheney, a young man is an aggressive drinker who doesn’t know what to do. His wife Lynne has had enough and sets him on a new path. Played by Christian Bale in a marvelously accurate portrayal, he works his way up as an aide to Nixon, as a House Rep and then a staffer to Rumsfeld (Steve Carell) in the 1980s. Cheney learns to keep quiet and bide his time. He becomes Secretary of Defense under Bush 41. Soon after, Bush 43 (Sam Rockwell) asks him to be VP, as his ticket lacks experience.

Christian Bale is excellent as Cheney, but it is perhaps because he is so perfect that the film wears. He lurches, grimaces, winces and smirks. His head is stuck directly onto his shoulders, the neck non-existent.

Bale resembles pain personified. A political Grinch of sorts.

As VP, Cheney gets the concept of unitary powers, when the second in command can do virtually whatever he wants without consequence. In one scene Lynne (Amy Adams) and Dick are in bed reciting Shakespearean iambic pentameter with Linda Blair growls.

In the film, actor Jesse Plemmons plays a vet who dies when a car hits him, killing him instantly. Cheney takes his heart, claiming it for himself. To paraphrase the vet’s response: even though I am dead, I still find this depressing.

The reference is clear: The man has no heart. To underscore this point, we see his heart in the film, a pulpy repulsive thing. Part of an alien monster.

Point taken. But to what end? The film is too much of a dark caricature, too glib and mocking to produce any pensive thoughts or make a reflective time capsule. “Vice” is a master class in mimicry for Bale and Rockwell as well, who is a twin of George W., naively playful and hesitant, eager to please. The film is nearly wondrous in this aspect. But “Vice” cheats itself as a political cartoon, in spite of its invention.

Write Ian at [email protected]

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