When Oliver Stone decides to make a film, you know the liberal Hollywood elite is hard at work, attempting to rewrite history with their skewed brush. In 2008, Stone unleashed 'W.,' a so-called biographical drama about American president George W. Bush. The film serves as a glossy liberal fantasy, filled to the brim with biased portrayals and selective truths. Stone claimed he aimed to reveal 'the unharmed man,' yet what was served is a reheated platter already rejected at the liberal buffet.
First things first—Josh Brolin as George W. Bush? Give me a break. Brolin is more at home strumming nostalgia as a Goonie or playing the sinister villain in a superhero franchise, not the leader of the free world. Stone attempts to plant far-left archetypes into a dramatic performance. Brolin portrays Bush as a frat boy stumbling through life into accidental elections, the implication being that anyone could do it. This simplified charade falsely assumes his audiences are fools, ignoring Bush's political acumen and legacy.
'W.' premiered during an era when it was fashionable to bash Bush. Of course, this film lands in 2008, conveniently nestled while conservatism was contending with an acute identity crisis, and the Obama euphoria was at its zenith. Stone saw an opening for a not-so-gentle prod at the conservative hornet's nest. And man did he take it! Yet, for those who lived through those years, it's hard to ignore how much of the real man is missing between script pages. The George W. Bush that many conservative Americans voted for appears to be drowning in liberal ink.
So what makes 'W.' so delightfully ludicrous? For one, its fixation on psychoanalysis worthy of Freud himself. Stone psychoanalyzes familial pressures with Bush senior, played by James Cromwell, hovering like a disapproving ghost. Stone capitalizes on the shallow, inaccurate stereotype of a boy forever stuck in his father's shadow. This angle isn't merely conjecture—it's propaganda dressed as drama.
The movie’s narrative jumps back and forth like a poorly edited documentary, quite possibly created to suit fleeting liberal attention spans. Viewers are dragged through scenes of ranch work with Bush mourning kitchen mishaps and hazy backyard conversations. Downplayed are his moments of genuine leadership after 9/11, a time in which he rallied a country, stood firm against terror threats, and lead decisive military action. Instead, Stone's version of Bush prepares for meetings with Peace in koran, Kalashnikov in hand—a perfect recipe for an alternate history.
The production design paints a caricature of a Texan universe. Stone has imagined the White House as a mere elaborate set for a soap opera. Scenes are awkwardly staged akin to a theatrical anti-Bush satire. The set design and costumes are clichés trying too hard to persuade—horses, cowboy hats, and beer: everything short America as flyover country caricature.
And then there’s Thandie Newton’s Condoleezza Rice portrayal. If you haven’t guffawed yet, Newton adopts an almost comedic cadence, a theatrical choice bordering on parody rather than biographical respect. In reality, Rice, the epitome of professionalism and intelligence, played a significant role in Bush's presidency—her portrayal here suggests a different story. Her real-life restraint in moments of international crisis is belittled by a performance better suited to a TV sitcom.
Oliver Stone and his writers lean heavily on the notion that the Iraq War was Bush's ultimate moment of folly. The film doesn’t even pretend to balance perspectives by discussing UN sentiments or Hussein’s threats—forget those, the agenda is in full swing. The infamous 'Mission Accomplished' banner is gleefully dissected, yet the narrative omits crucial context like Iraq's free elections post-Saddam.
Viewers are left to question the motivations behind this cinematic debacle. The timing, the tone, the casting—everything would suggest an aim to sculpt the Bush years into history through warped glass, resonating strongly with Hollywood's leftist narrative machine. The effects of Stone's historical tinkering have a half-life; to this day, audiences who dine on his portrayal take away a misleading understanding, dismissing achievements and inflating failures.
And let's not forget, Stone isn't just any director—he is a cocktail party darling amongst the Hollywood left. 'W.' isn't merely a film; it is an artistic pollutant for those seeking authentic historical recounting. Stone's opus is a satire wrapped in drama’s clothing—a piece of leftist memorabilia for individuals who choose to live in a theatrical version of reality. At its basest, it is a reminder of how Hollywood can drastically take liberties with factual stories that don't align with their worldview.
Ultimately, 'W.' is a fantasy concocted in the minds of Hollywood’s storytellers who prefer spinning fiction over recognizing truth. Stone may wish to project Bush as a blundering ride on his family's coattails, but history will remember his successes—whether it fits the Tinsel Town narrative or not.