Swing Vote
Directed by Joshua Michael Stern
Angelina Jolie will have to adopt a lot more babies to make up for the pollution of life-denying movies like Wanted. Our celebrity-worshipping culture rarely asks actors to account for their film choices as political choices. (Even the ubiquitous movie-star interview has been corrupted into nothing more than an opportunity to vamp and hype). So garbage like Wanted—which also disgraces Morgan Freeman and Common’s presumed enlightenment—becomes just another millionaire pop star’s socially irresponsible overindulgence. In this climate, Kevin Costner’s boldly heartfelt new film Swing Vote is strange indeed.
Like Warren Beatty’s Bulworth, Swing Vote examines the electoral process as a personal one. Costner plays Ernest “Bud” Johnson, a white New Mexico blue-collar worker jolted out of his indifference to the current presidential race. (When asked about his political affiliation, he rebuts, “I’m a conscious objector”— a malapropism worthy of Preston Sturges). Through a voting-booth mishap caused by his daughter, Molly (Madeline Carroll), Bud possesses the single ballot that will win the state’s Electoral College votes. Sought after by both Republican and Democratic candidates (respectively, incumbent President Kelsey Grammar and rival Dennis Hopper), Bud becomes a media star; even his simplest utterance has the power to alter the nominees’ campaign tactics. (Their pandering TV spots supply the film’s brightest moments.)
At its best, Swing Vote satirizes the absurdity of our electoral process—a referendum that completely disregards the wishes of individual voters, a competition ruled by media suasion. Bud doesn’t undergo an awakening like that memorable Simpsons episode where Homer witnesses Congress’ clandestine bill-passing procedure (“My illusions have been restored!”), rather Swing Vote shows his distance from the candidates who live by the polls. Its best jokes satirize flip-flopping—as when the Republican advocates for gay marriage and the Democrat sponsors a pro-life, anti-abortion stance. Swing Vote’s preview audience was perplexed at both these hilarious routines. Apparently, Costner had pushed past their expectations into subversive territory—unlike pseudo-Earth Mother Jolie pandering to audience bloodlust.
Costner has consistently demonstrated political awareness in either good or failed films (the excellent The War, Thirteen Days, 3000 Miles to Graceland as well as the unfortunate Waterworld and The Postman). His movie star’s advantage (leathery, buddyish charm) illuminates common concerns. As in his fine western Open Range, Costner updates genre tropes for contemporary relevance. Swing Vote bears a fascinating resemblance to what people think of as Capra comedy—folksy humor edging into civics lessons. But Costner doesn’t condescend to Capra’s humanism. Instead of remaking the 1939 Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Costner offers Bud Goes to Vote, a consideration of Red State American political action. (Critic Harvey Karten cites the plot’s similarity to 1939’s The Great Man Votes.) It’s superior to such pseudo-political comedies as Dave and The American President.
Bud’s lesson in civic responsibility personalizes Red State thinking. When a colleague at the egg factory where Bud works complains about Mexican employees “insourcing” the jobs away from Americans, Bud counters, “Maybe he needs the work.” Then he adds, “I don’t take sides; just stating the obvious.” Swing Vote’s middle-of-the-road stance supplies what’s obviously been missing from liberal media’s condescension to fly-over-states America. The respect Borat withheld is apparent in Costner’s careful characterization. Bud sports a Bill Engvall goatee, wears sleeveless plaid shirts and has a foul mouth. He’s an approved good ol’ boy—a half concept (abandoned by his wife, he bickers with Molly like a surrogate partner not a daughter), yet Costner humanizes that half richly, with recognizable humor and humility. While many scenes here are formulaic rather than genuinely felt, Costner’s beautifully “casual” performance shows his identification with ordinary American types. It contrasts the urbanity of politicians and media folk angling for attention and dominance. (“What are we about?” asks Grammar’s president, and his advisor reminds him, “Winning.”)
Costner’s old-fashioned populist ethic blends entertainment and sincerity. (In last year’s Mr. Brooks, he tried remaking the serial killer movie into an allegory for contemporary moral breakdown; critic Gregory Solman astutely suggested that it might have worked better as a De Palma movie.) Here, Costner, screenwriter Jason Richman and director Joshua Michael Stern heroize the common layabout and contrast his fecklessness to the ambitions of media people and political wonks: Latina reporter Kate Madison (Paula Patton) manipulates little Molly, and the candidates work with devious pols (Stanley Tucci and Nathan Lane—who revives his fast-talk from David Mamet’s November). These film pros display outrageous self-interest, yet there’s a healthy lack of cynicism.
Swing Vote is unsophisticated compared to the slick politics of Charlie Wilson’s War or Borat. Yet, it has too many rhetorical angles. Bud’s workingman’s struggle isn’t defined well enough; a late explanation of his failed marriage to Mare Winningham (while referring to the collapse of Molly’s best friend’s dad) merely sketches the depths of peoples’ disillusionment. It’s a well-acted but too-brief detail. Bud’s social antagonists are also half-concepts—a frightening legion of actual media celebrities (Chris Matthews, Tucker Carlson, Larry King, James Carville, Mary Hart, Bill Maher, Arianna Huffington, Terry O’Donnell, Tony Blankley, Aaron Brown, Campbell Brown) who shamelessly blur their stance as pundits and parodies of same.
When the president’s advisor says, “All we have to do is win one American mind,” it simplifies contemporary political manipulation to its effect on one unenlightened beer-drinking, Willie Nelson–loving individual. Costner’s trust that moviegoers will accept good ol’ Bud as their surrogate frees him to risk Swing Vote’s sentimental tour de force. Bud’s self-awareness—disproving TV slander that he’s “a dumb-ass” and winning back his community’s favor—echoes the climax of Capra’s Mr. Smith. But adducing that few voters today feel triumph is possible, Costner proffers sincerity instead: Bud confesses American shame (“I’ve took freely and given nothing”) and regret: “If this is the richest country in the world, how come so many of us can hardly afford to live here?” This is Costner’s most moving screen speech since JFK—obviously contrived, yet it’s beautifully spoken. He’s a movie star whose conscience outstrips his narrative sense. Unlike some, he knows the importance of being Bud.
In Swing Vote, Costner means to explicate civic responsibility during this absurd, media-dominated election season. Our dislocation is apparent in Bud’s awkward talks with candidates and media people. And it is perfectly symbolized by Bud watching his own hand waving outside a limousine window while simultaneously on TV. This is a more resonant image than all the gunplay and suicidal mayhem with which stars like Angelina Jolie placate the public’s sense of political futility. At a screening of Wanted, I noticed a paraplegic viewer applauding Jolie’s most outlandish assassin’s stunt. Rather than exploit movie-going voters’ sense of crippling frustration, Costner tries to purge it.
Directed by Joshua Michael Stern
Angelina Jolie will have to adopt a lot more babies to make up for the pollution of life-denying movies like Wanted. Our celebrity-worshipping culture rarely asks actors to account for their film choices as political choices. (Even the ubiquitous movie-star interview has been corrupted into nothing more than an opportunity to vamp and hype). So garbage like Wanted—which also disgraces Morgan Freeman and Common’s presumed enlightenment—becomes just another millionaire pop star’s socially irresponsible overindulgence. In this climate, Kevin Costner’s boldly heartfelt new film Swing Vote is strange indeed.
Like Warren Beatty’s Bulworth, Swing Vote examines the electoral process as a personal one. Costner plays Ernest “Bud” Johnson, a white New Mexico blue-collar worker jolted out of his indifference to the current presidential race. (When asked about his political affiliation, he rebuts, “I’m a conscious objector”— a malapropism worthy of Preston Sturges). Through a voting-booth mishap caused by his daughter, Molly (Madeline Carroll), Bud possesses the single ballot that will win the state’s Electoral College votes. Sought after by both Republican and Democratic candidates (respectively, incumbent President Kelsey Grammar and rival Dennis Hopper), Bud becomes a media star; even his simplest utterance has the power to alter the nominees’ campaign tactics. (Their pandering TV spots supply the film’s brightest moments.)
At its best, Swing Vote satirizes the absurdity of our electoral process—a referendum that completely disregards the wishes of individual voters, a competition ruled by media suasion. Bud doesn’t undergo an awakening like that memorable Simpsons episode where Homer witnesses Congress’ clandestine bill-passing procedure (“My illusions have been restored!”), rather Swing Vote shows his distance from the candidates who live by the polls. Its best jokes satirize flip-flopping—as when the Republican advocates for gay marriage and the Democrat sponsors a pro-life, anti-abortion stance. Swing Vote’s preview audience was perplexed at both these hilarious routines. Apparently, Costner had pushed past their expectations into subversive territory—unlike pseudo-Earth Mother Jolie pandering to audience bloodlust.
Costner has consistently demonstrated political awareness in either good or failed films (the excellent The War, Thirteen Days, 3000 Miles to Graceland as well as the unfortunate Waterworld and The Postman). His movie star’s advantage (leathery, buddyish charm) illuminates common concerns. As in his fine western Open Range, Costner updates genre tropes for contemporary relevance. Swing Vote bears a fascinating resemblance to what people think of as Capra comedy—folksy humor edging into civics lessons. But Costner doesn’t condescend to Capra’s humanism. Instead of remaking the 1939 Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Costner offers Bud Goes to Vote, a consideration of Red State American political action. (Critic Harvey Karten cites the plot’s similarity to 1939’s The Great Man Votes.) It’s superior to such pseudo-political comedies as Dave and The American President.
Bud’s lesson in civic responsibility personalizes Red State thinking. When a colleague at the egg factory where Bud works complains about Mexican employees “insourcing” the jobs away from Americans, Bud counters, “Maybe he needs the work.” Then he adds, “I don’t take sides; just stating the obvious.” Swing Vote’s middle-of-the-road stance supplies what’s obviously been missing from liberal media’s condescension to fly-over-states America. The respect Borat withheld is apparent in Costner’s careful characterization. Bud sports a Bill Engvall goatee, wears sleeveless plaid shirts and has a foul mouth. He’s an approved good ol’ boy—a half concept (abandoned by his wife, he bickers with Molly like a surrogate partner not a daughter), yet Costner humanizes that half richly, with recognizable humor and humility. While many scenes here are formulaic rather than genuinely felt, Costner’s beautifully “casual” performance shows his identification with ordinary American types. It contrasts the urbanity of politicians and media folk angling for attention and dominance. (“What are we about?” asks Grammar’s president, and his advisor reminds him, “Winning.”)
Costner’s old-fashioned populist ethic blends entertainment and sincerity. (In last year’s Mr. Brooks, he tried remaking the serial killer movie into an allegory for contemporary moral breakdown; critic Gregory Solman astutely suggested that it might have worked better as a De Palma movie.) Here, Costner, screenwriter Jason Richman and director Joshua Michael Stern heroize the common layabout and contrast his fecklessness to the ambitions of media people and political wonks: Latina reporter Kate Madison (Paula Patton) manipulates little Molly, and the candidates work with devious pols (Stanley Tucci and Nathan Lane—who revives his fast-talk from David Mamet’s November). These film pros display outrageous self-interest, yet there’s a healthy lack of cynicism.
Swing Vote is unsophisticated compared to the slick politics of Charlie Wilson’s War or Borat. Yet, it has too many rhetorical angles. Bud’s workingman’s struggle isn’t defined well enough; a late explanation of his failed marriage to Mare Winningham (while referring to the collapse of Molly’s best friend’s dad) merely sketches the depths of peoples’ disillusionment. It’s a well-acted but too-brief detail. Bud’s social antagonists are also half-concepts—a frightening legion of actual media celebrities (Chris Matthews, Tucker Carlson, Larry King, James Carville, Mary Hart, Bill Maher, Arianna Huffington, Terry O’Donnell, Tony Blankley, Aaron Brown, Campbell Brown) who shamelessly blur their stance as pundits and parodies of same.
When the president’s advisor says, “All we have to do is win one American mind,” it simplifies contemporary political manipulation to its effect on one unenlightened beer-drinking, Willie Nelson–loving individual. Costner’s trust that moviegoers will accept good ol’ Bud as their surrogate frees him to risk Swing Vote’s sentimental tour de force. Bud’s self-awareness—disproving TV slander that he’s “a dumb-ass” and winning back his community’s favor—echoes the climax of Capra’s Mr. Smith. But adducing that few voters today feel triumph is possible, Costner proffers sincerity instead: Bud confesses American shame (“I’ve took freely and given nothing”) and regret: “If this is the richest country in the world, how come so many of us can hardly afford to live here?” This is Costner’s most moving screen speech since JFK—obviously contrived, yet it’s beautifully spoken. He’s a movie star whose conscience outstrips his narrative sense. Unlike some, he knows the importance of being Bud.
In Swing Vote, Costner means to explicate civic responsibility during this absurd, media-dominated election season. Our dislocation is apparent in Bud’s awkward talks with candidates and media people. And it is perfectly symbolized by Bud watching his own hand waving outside a limousine window while simultaneously on TV. This is a more resonant image than all the gunplay and suicidal mayhem with which stars like Angelina Jolie placate the public’s sense of political futility. At a screening of Wanted, I noticed a paraplegic viewer applauding Jolie’s most outlandish assassin’s stunt. Rather than exploit movie-going voters’ sense of crippling frustration, Costner tries to purge it.
