The Campaign| B
Director: Jay Roach. Screenplay: Chris Henchy,
Shawn Harwell. Starring: Will Ferrell, Zach Galifinakis, Jason Sudekais. Rated:
R. Running time: 85 minutes.
The Campaign might just be the movie we deserve in
this dire election cycle: It’s cynical, vulgar, mean-spirited, weirdly familiar
and yet often hysterical. It is ostensibly just a big, dumb farce about a pair
of noisy, feuding, immature politicians all too willing to debase themselves
for a win, but there’s potent satirical content embedded between the fart gags,
like half of an aspirin in a spoonful of pudding.
As incumbent North Carolina congressman Cam
Brady, Will Ferrell does a riff on his iconic George W. impression, with some
John Edwards snake oil drizzled on top. In fine Ron Burgundy tradition, he’s an
overconfident, oversexed empty suit, looking to cruise through to another term
in D.C. where the glitzy perks flow like milk and honey. He hits a snag when a
filthy voicemail intended for a nubile conquest ends up on the message machine
of a good, clean-voting family, and then hits the press. Smelling blood in the
water, corrupt, deep-pocketed business tycoons (hammy Dan Akroyd and John
Lithgow, shades of Don Ameche and Ralph Bellamy in Trading Places)
recruit a dope from a well-connected family to challenge Brady — and do their
bidding. Their rival candidate proves to be a real doozy: Marty Huggins (Zach
Galifinakis), a droopy-mustached puffball with a squeaky, sing-song Southern
drawl and a closet full of hideous Cosby sweaters and mom jeans. A devious
consultant (Dermot Mulrooney) is sent to whip Marty’s flabby ass into shape,
remodeling his wardrobe, furniture and slovenly family. Not even Marty’s dogs
are safe, after his opponent calls his Pugs ” Chinese commie dogs.”
What began as a cakewalk becomes a dogfight,
with clashes over who is more religious, patriotic, gun-loving and red-blooded.
The tricks keep getting dirtier, as the mudslinging escalates into
hair-pulling, accidental baby-punching and Dick Cheney-style “hunting accident”
gunplay. By the time Brady retaliates by seducing Huggins’ long ignored wife,
and makes a sex tape (and campaign commercial!) out of it, things are
irretrievably nasty.
By now the Ferrell’s playbook has become as
regimented as Kabuki: There’s shouting, classlessness, inappropriate comments,
flabby shirtless moments, temper tantrums and a scene where he freaks out under
the influence of some sort of controlled substance. Ferrell dependably hits
these same beats in most of his movies, but their familiarity actually works in
his favor; if you’re a fan, you will likely laugh at his shtick reflexively.
Zach Galifinakis is a tougher sell; he’s amusing, but his intentionally
squirmy, oddball character is a tad too cartoonish to hang a whole picture
around.
In the third act, when the candidates begin to
finally think about the wicked system they’ve been caught up in, the contrast
between satire and silliness becomes untenable. Director Jay Roach, who makes
political docudramas like Game Change as well as camp like Austin
Powers, seems like a perfect choice for the material. But Roach is no Frank
Capra, and though the movie delivers some huge, raunchy laughs, it is a little
short on heart, and — as many politicians learn too late — it’s very hard to
make everyone happy and stay true to your convictions.
This article appears in Aug 8-14, 2012.