From Man to Mockery, and Back Again

Through most of the undistinguished history of films about American presidents, concern for truth has been in short supply. From "Young Mr. Lincoln" (1939) to "Wilson" (1944) to "Sunrise at Campobello" (1960) to "The Missiles of October" (1974), to the many other, often cheap and cheesy films that populate cable television and direct-to-video products, the purpose of these movies has mostly been hagiography, propaganda or both. "Young Mr. Lincoln" (with Lincoln played by Henry Fonda) portrayed a saintly lawyer engaged in an idealized and implausible battle for justice. "Wilson" is a mediocre and now justly forgotten film that won five Academy Awards because of its usefulness to the debate over the aftermath of World War II. "Sunrise," drawn from a Broadway play, was a tribute to Franklin Roosevelt's courageous conquest of polio (a conquest that in reality never occurred) and a portrayal of a "great American love story" that was in fact the story of a broken marriage never repaired. "The Missiles of October" conveyed not the muddled confusion of a seemingly intractable crisis, but a stark moral conflict in which wisdom defeated rashness.

Oliver Stone, whose new film, "W.," is his third examination of a modern president, has aspired to be different. His first two presidential films—"JFK" (1991) and "Nixon" (1995)—were products of the fascinations of his youth, but also of his attraction to the conspiracy theories that have washed over the memories of both presidents. Speaking with me last week, Stone referred to "JFK" as his "j'accuse" film—and rightly so. It latched onto some of the most explosive and least well documented of all the Kennedy assassination theories, alleging an effort by the CIA and perhaps even Lyndon Johnson to assassinate Kennedy so as to prevent Kennedy from ending the Vietnam War or making peace with Cuba or blocking opportunities for others to lead.

"Nixon," according to Stone, was a "sober, winter" movie that attempted, mostly empathetically, to capture the loneliness and occasional despair of an unloved man. In it, too, Stone connected his subject to the documented conspiracies that helped destroy his presidency, as well as to other plots for which there is little credible evidence. Both these films were accompanied by elaborately annotated books to display the extensive research that shaped the screenplays. Both have been highly controversial with historians and others who have questioned the reliability of Stone's sources and the plausibility of the conspiracies he appears to embrace. But credible or not, Stone set out in these films to make real contributions to history, or as he put it, "to help create an understanding of our time." He stands by the accuracy of his work and does not often use the easy excuse of "it's just a movie."

Portraying a sitting president may be an even harder task. As often as not, large portions of such efforts are later contradicted by archival research. Political passions often shape interpretations. Warren G. Harding was mourned as if he were Lincoln when he died in 1923; history now sees him as one of our most inept and oafish presidents. Dwight D. Eisenhower was dismissed as a dull mediocrity by historians in the 1950s and 1960s; his reputation today is very high. But the popular appetite for immediate conclusions about presidents and other leaders is almost irresistible, so it's little wonder that filmmakers, like many historians, rush to enter the fray.

Almost all of Stone's important movies are dark and pessimistic, reflections of his own (and much of his generation's) disillusionment with American politics and power. So it is somewhat surprising to see in his portrait of George W. Bush a relatively sunny and sympathetic picture of perhaps the most reviled president in American history. Stone claims that almost everything in the film is based on solid research—that all of the scenes, with the exception of a few dream sequences, can be reliably verified. (A Web site making his sources clear is under construction.) Stone is certainly not an admirer of Bush. He is appalled by the administration. It has, he argued, "upset and endangered the world … There is no end to their arrogance … Their policies are insane." But he also claims to find Bush strangely and somewhat perversely likable. He is, Stone said, "impatient, narrow-minded … a bully," but also "magnetic … a good father, good husband and good friend."

Opponents and supporters of Bush alike will find things to complain about in "W." Bush haters will be startled, and perhaps irritated, by Stone's sympathetic portrait of the young Bush—convincingly portrayed by Josh Brolin—who struggles with (and sometimes bravely stands up to) the intimidating example of his father. (In the film, Bush Sr. continually belittles his son and at one point almost engages him in a fistfight.) Viewers may be annoyed as well by Stone's uncensorious and even admiring chronicle of Bush's struggle to overcome alcoholism and his embrace of Christianity, and by the director's portrayal of Bush's 1994 campaign for governor as a skillful and charismatic effort (albeit carefully orchestrated by Karl Rove). Stone's portrayal of earnest, idealistic conviction among Bush and his advisers about the wisdom of the Iraq War is also inconsistent with the widespread belief that zealotry, deception and ambition were the real drivers of the conflict.