Hyde Park on the Hudson | C
Hard to imagine, but chitchat
about the bedroom liaisons of our political leaders was once the sort of thing
whispered around cocktails parties, but rarely aired in public like dirty
laundry hung on the line for all too see. So it was that Franklin D. Roosevelt
managed to get elected four times, and steer the nation through the great
disasters of a depression and a war, while the general public remained largely
unaware of his crippling polio or his multiple extramarital affairs. Hyde
Park on Hudson, meanwhile, drapes all those old, soggy knickers out in the
breeze, along with some fresh revelations gleaned from the diary of Margaret
“Daisy” Stuckley, the president’s confidante, distant relation and, apparently,
his lover.
When we meet her in the film,
Daisy (Laura Linney) lives a quiet, bucolic existence in a farmhouse that looks
like Thomas Hart Benton painted it. She is summoned from this restful world to
come visit her fifth cousin, who happens to be the leader of the free world,
and who prefers to summer at his mother’s estate in upstate New York. After
some polite hellos the prez (Bill Murray) invites Daisy to check out his stamp
collection, which actually works on her — though if you are the POTUS, your
hobbies are bound to be more intriguing than the average Joe’s. Soon the odd
pair are whiling away their afternoons taking joyrides through a lush
countryside coated in lavender and warm sunshine, just the spot for a discreet
liaison. Sure enough, with the Secret Service waved to a safe distance, and
Glenn Miller on the radio, the sedan starts a-rockin’, and we are treated to
the spectacle of the commander in chief getting a hand job. The movie never recovers
from this bit of creepiness, and a tawdry feeling pervades the remainder of the
picture.
What follows is a storyline
about the king and queen of England’s unprecedented visit to Hyde Park in 1939,
in an attempt to curry FDR’s favor, something nearly everyone in the film seems
to be doing. No stranger to fame, Bill Murray tries mightily to slide into the
role of a great man, but it’s not a comfortable fit. Murray’s Midwestern work
ethic slips through FDR’s polished patrician haughtiness, and Murray’s snarky,
no-bullshit comedic bluntness makes him genetically ill-suited to playing a
master politician.
Poor Linney fares worse; her
character is such a bland dishrag that she can do little but stand around
looking befuddled and wan. Olivia Williams does capture a bit of Eleanor
Roosevelt’s famous brio, though she’s perhaps just a tad too lovely a face to
be believed as the first lady. Samuel West makes a good effort at stamping his
imprint as George VI, or “Bertie” as made famous by Colin Firth, and he’s expertly
paired with Olivia Colman as the queen. With war looming, and the fate of the
empire in doubt, the royal couple is busy fretting about the accommodations,
and with a luncheon during which they’ll be forced to eat aYank horror called
“hot dogs.” How common!
The film works best in these
lighter moments instead of when delving into the shockingly dull central
“romance” or in the president’s weird, extended sexual fling with his
secretary, Missy Lehand (Elizabeth Marvel), who tries to indoctrinate Daisy like
a sister wife.
We learn about Franklin’s seduction techniques, but are offered precious little insight into his
strengths as a chief executive. If there is a point to be gleaned, it is that
the president conducted business in the same way he handled private affairs: by
using the potency of his personality to awe, coerce and overpower.
It’s not clear how helpful
this message actually is, as the movie is too caught up in mythologizing the
era to really let its seedier aspects comfortably squeeze into the scrupulously
tasteful period detail. Hyde Park on Hudson tries to push modern
concerns on history, and ends up getting lost in the static between them.
This article appears in Dec 19-25, 2012.