Some Drivel On...The Contender

Released in the fall of 2000, meaning into a contentious American Presidential election in addition to the roiling wake of the Lewinsky scandal and Starr Report, writer/director Rod Lurie’s political thriller “The Contender” was designed to make waves even as it wound up engendering some unintentional waves too. Its eponymous character is Ohio Senator Laine Hanson (Joan Allen), tapped by President Jackson Evans (Jeff Bridges) to be his next Vice President after the death of the current one, though the Republican chair of the nominating committee, Shelly Runyon (Gary Oldman), plans not merely to oppose this but to “obliterate (her) life.” A smear campaign, in other words, and so perhaps it’s appropriate that “The Contender” not only divided the critics but became victim of something akin to a smear campaign itself. That occurred when co-star Oldman’s words in one publication were misconstrued in another, making it seem as if he insinuated that Lurie caved to his production company Dreamworks and its patron saint, Steven Spielberg, to make the movie more big-D Democrat-friendly. Afterwards, Oldman contended his issue was only with Lurie in so much as the filmmaker compromised “The Contender’s” ethical and moral ambiguity to render it a more straightforward story of heroes and villains. Frankly, Oldman is not wrong in his assessment. A genuine melodramatic entertainment, “The Contender” also seems to come bearing sharp fangs in depicting statecraft until they are revealed as nothing more than a set of costume teeth. 

Runyon’s ammunition for character assassination is explicit photos that emerge of what is purported to be a college-age Hanson engaging in lewd acts at a frat house. The Senator from the great state of Ohio not only does not confirm nor deny their legitimacy, but she also publicly refuses to even acknowledge them, much to the chagrin of White House Chief of Staff Kermit Newman (Sam Elliott). Newman even yearns to hit back at Runyon with some character assassination ammo of their own. “Come on, Kermit,” Hanson derides, “if we do that, we’re no better than he is.” “We are,” Newman replies with Elliott emphasizing the second word, “no better than he is,” a line that has been ringing in my head during this whole divisive midterm election season. Like it or not, Laine is judged in the venerable court of public opinion, even if that venerable court is shown to be influenced if not outright shaped by the media and by political actors goosing the media. When Runyon rhetorically asks why the American people will believe him, he says, “Because I will have a big microphone in front of me,” evocative of “The Contender’s” oft juicy dialogue. Politics, however, do not take place only in front of the camera, but off them, and in an astonishingly deft performance, Bridges creates one of our all-time great movie presidents. Evans is a chameleon who is skilled at operating in either environment, virtually glowing with affability in the presence of others while simultaneously maintaining an unmistakable assertiveness (the running gag of Evans procuring food in meetings from the White House chef is as funny it is telling) while coming across cunning and even savage behind the scenes.

Evans is practicing politics, in other words, in the true sense of the word, all their wheeling, dealing, and not so much persuading as bulldozing, demonstrating how even what might be noble ideals are always swimming in raw sewage-infested waters. Even noble ideals are in question, however, as President Evans wanting to install Hanson as VP is summarized as being less about what she stands for than POTUS’s own “swan song” while Runyon never even explicates a good reason why he wants to do her in. “She’s no good,” he tells his wife Maggie (Irene Ziegler) in the middle of the night in his pajamas and slippers while sipping milk, a shot that truly makes him look like nothing beyond a bitter old man. Yet, even if “The Contender” does a bang-up job demonstrating “politics as power, nothing more,” as the philosopher X once said, where the notions of character are immaterial in more ways than one, Lurie pulls his punch at the conclusion with two revelations that repaint the political arena as angels and devils and a place where character counts after all. Maybe he could have swung it had he stuck to the complicated portraits of these people that he seems to be generating, but the two climactic twists negate that possibility. And whether from narrative cowardice, or bleeding-heart intentions, Lurie inadvertently yet revealingly transforms “The Contender” into a manifestation of the most dangerous kind of politician: one that believes in their own bullshit.