Vice is a scattershot film by design. Despite an overall linearity, the narrative leaps around Cheney’s life with a playful relationship to chronology. Vice doesn't rearrange time as smoothly as similarly edited films (for example, Lynne Ramsay's fractured masterpiece We Need to Talk About Kevin). This is largely down to the eclectic filmmaking and the restless ambition fuelling it. McKay utilises a range of techniques to make his point. The result is a general unevenness in tone, with dramatic reenactments and narrated accounts of Cheney’s life interspersed with visual metaphors and satirical sketches. However, that isn’t to say the film is incoherent, just inconsistent.
It is possible to buy into this approach if you accept the film for what it is; that is, not really a film. I had anticipated a relatively standard biopic with a comedic edge and some great performances, but the reality is far less conventional. Vice doesn't break the fourth wall so much as it doesn't bother building one to begin with. Instead, it feels more like a 2-hour long video essay; the argument is laid out by Jesse Plemons’ narration and the dramatisation of Cheney’s life serves to illustrate it. Described like this, I could understand why Vice may sound like an unengaging prospect. However, McKay does everything in his power to ensure this is the most exhilarating video essay you’ve ever watched.
Vice's most obvious asset is the spectacular ensemble cast, which fulfils and exceeds its expectations with confidence. Amy Adams is formidable as Lynne Cheney, whose ruthless political savvy outshines her husband’s. Steve Carell is Donald Rumsfeld, Cheney’s first political mentor and a shameless slimeball (when asked what the Republican Party believes in, Rumsfeld merely responds with hysterical laughter). Sam Rockwell also brings a delightful ineptitude to George W. Bush who is - perhaps unfairly - mostly reduced to comic relief. But let's not beat around the bush (GET IT?!). We all know everybody's here to see Christian Bale, who has once again undergone a stunning transformation. Bale's Dick Cheney is utterly absorbing; his performance engrosses the audience in the character of Cheney, which otherwise risks getting overlooked in favour of the political message. In other words, it's remarkable.
Vice also avoids being boring by being funny. Of course, it’s directed by the man behind films like Anchorman and Step Brothers but Vice has a different sense of humour to your usual Will Ferrell vehicle. By the very nature of its subject matter, the comedy is cynical and grim, such as Rumsfeld’s aforementioned outburst or the almost slapstick treatment of Cheney’s heart problems (“I’m having a heart attack, you idiot”). McKay also takes advantage of the film’s lack of a fourth wall for some hilariously inventive meta-gags. Highlights include the Cheneys breaking into Shakespearean dialogue (“My sweet Richard. Dance’d nimbly round the King’s hearth thou hath”) and a fake ending that parodies 'where are they now?' montages with pitch-perfect cheese. However, Vice never completely loses sight of reality, ensuring the horrific consequences of Cheney's policies are made clear. The most striking acknowledgement of this occurs when Bush announces the Iraq War and his nervous toe tapping is match-cut with an Iraqi family sheltering from the oncoming onslaught.
The ‘video essay’ approach also works because of the complexity of the concepts Vice tackles. For anyone unfamiliar with the various checks and balances of US government, it isn't immediately apparent why Cheney's career is so notable. Consequently, the film has to explain these ideas - such as the ‘Unitary Executive Theory’ that enabled Cheney to expand Bush's presidential powers to unprecedented levels post-9/11 - directly to the audience. Fortunately, McKay doesn't just lecture us about these things. He is a seasoned comedy director, so he's capable of wringing the entertainment value out of American political theory. The most creative example of this has to be when Cheney's cabinet have numerous torture loopholes read to them from a restaurant menu.
Of course, to really enjoy Vice you have to agree with the politics. Unlike your usual biopic, McKay isn't simply trying to portray Cheney's life. Instead, he's trying to explicitly broadcast a political message with Cheney as his case study. In that sense, it's rather Brechtian, eschewing any façade of realism for the sake of making its point. That point is a contentious one that, even if you don't like Cheney, may appear to give him too much credit for the atrocities of the Bush administration. However, McKay consistently justifies his interpretation of history with solid facts and the film is self-aware about things simply nobody knows; the opening card amusingly acknowledges “We tried our f***ing best”. Whether or not you agree with McKay's interpretation, it's hard to argue it isn't a valid one that's convincingly communicated.
The most devastating blow to Cheney, however, is not political but personal. Throughout the whole film, Cheney’s one redeeming quality is his commitment to his family. When running as Bush’s Vice President he draws the line at campaigning against gay marriage because of his lesbian daughter. However, when his other daughter's vague stance on gay marriage hinders her chances of getting elected to Congress, Cheney approves the decision to clarify her opposition. It’s a shocking moment that shatters any shred of respect you might still have for Cheney. Who needs family when you can have power?
Soon after, Cheney delivers a brutal monologue directly to the audience. “It has been my honour to be your servant," he concludes. "You chose me, and I did what you asked.” Cheney (or McKay's version of Cheney) is right, he was chosen. He was elected by a country who had little reason to anticipate the impact of a quiet, monotone Vice President. In a time when cartoon characters dominate politics, Vice, therefore, serves as an urgent reminder to look past the surface and call out the insidious evils damaging us the deepest. It doesn't always do that with as much focus as it could, but Vice's best moments more than make up for its stumbles.
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