The Front Runner circles lapse of judgment in a losing cause

Movie Review: The Front Runner

Jason Reitman recreates the late-80s political landscape to survey the moment when the sober Republic turned into All-American spectacle: Gary Hart’s soiled Presidential bid, spoiled by sex scandal and the rise of tabloid TV.

The Front Runner

3.5/5

Starring Hugh Jackman, Vera Farmiga, J.K. Simmons, Sara Paxton, Alfred Molina

Directed by: Jason Reitman

Running time: 1 hr 53 mins

Rating: Restricted

By Katherine Monk

He was a graduate of Yale Law and a political darling until allegations of sexual impropriety threatened to bring him down. His defence was to go after the press and blame partisan politics. No. Not that guy. Gary Hart was forced to drop out of the 1988 Presidential campaign when rumours of an extra-marital affair hit the pages of The Miami Herald and The New York Times, igniting a successive series of colourful explosions that turned politics into a fireworks display of anger and accusation.

So if you’re wondering where the sober Republic turned into all-American spectacle, check out Jason Reitman’s The Front Runner, a somewhat surgical dissection of Gary Hart’s downfall, and a gentle probe into the modern media’s frontal lobe.

… If you’re wondering where the sober Republic turned into all-American spectacle, check out Jason Reitman’s The Front Runner, a somewhat surgical dissection of Gary Hart’s downfall, and a gentle probe into the modern media’s frontal lobe.

Hugh Jackman stars as the middle-aged candidate, said to possess Robert Redford’s good looks as well as his friendship. It’s a good casting call from director Jason Reitman, who proves once more how fully he absorbed the signposts of his childhood with the production design, which resurrects every oversized loop and shoulder pad the late ‘80s had to offer.

Even Jackman looks like a man trapped in amber, sporting unrelenting earth tones and wearing hair about two inches too high. Jackman is actually better-looking than the real Gary Hart ever was, but he finds the uglier side of Hart’s character by inhabiting his sense of entitlement.

Everything about the way he moves, speaks and campaigns betrays an underlying belief in his own superiority. As a result, he’s not the most sympathetic of heroes. By the same token, his foes, the mainstream media, don’t emerge much better. Confused about the direction of their own profession in the wake of tabloid TV, journalists begin a debate about newsworthiness and sensationalism, but no one is willing to draw a line.

So we watch reporters from various news organizations stake out Hart’s DC townhouse like two-bit private dicks, and suddenly, the distance between the Woodward and Bernstein idea of political journalism and the modern take on reportage becomes all-too clear. The Fourth Estate is no longer pre-occupied with the notion of objectivity, fairness and accuracy. Now, it would be more about ratings, personality and ego.

One could argue Gary Hart invited a sleaze factor to the nightly news when he challenged reporters to follow him and “see how boring his life is.” Yet, not even Reitman is willing to make any grand statements about journalism and judgment, honour and patriotism, truth and political expedience.

This movie, based on Matt Bai’s book, seems to have no agenda other than conveying a particular moment in history in all its complexities and frustrating character flaws. Because that’s exactly what Gary Hart represented: A great political candidate who could have been a notable President, even with his profound personal deficiencies. The difference between Hart and a JFK can only be measured by the degree of wilful denial among members of the media pool, and the public’s appetite for a salacious angle on Washington.

Reitman captures the moment we all experienced a sense of moral sag. People wanted another Kennedy with all his latter-day Camelot mystique. But a mere prick burst the political balloon, and the blossoming myth deflated, leaving us shrivelled and empty cynics of the system.

Reitman captures the moment we all experienced a sense of moral sag. People wanted another Kennedy with all his latter-day Camelot mystique. But a mere prick burst the political balloon, and the blossoming myth deflated, leaving us shrivelled and empty cynics of the system.

If there are any heroes at all, we find them in the female members of the cast, who turn in beautifully nuanced moments of shame and courage in the shadows. Vera Farmiga bears the weight of being Hart’s loyal wife, Lee, without sliding into a victimized stance. She smiles for the cameras, holds his hand for the functions, but makes her own needs very clear: “Don’t embarrass me.”

Her brass is equalled by the female campaign workers, forced into the ugly role of damage control after dreaming of progressive change. Molly Ephraim is memorable as spunky politico Irene Kelly, and Sara Paxton gives the part of Donna Rice — the woman who sat on Hart’s knee for a picture and brought down a Presidential campaign — a full dose of feminine power and intelligence.

These women are so much more interesting, and so much more dynamic, than the male characters, but therein lies the innate tragedy of this particular moment in time. Like all women of the era, they are forced to play secondary roles. Powerful men mess everything up, while these tireless pragmatists try to put everything back together.

These women are so much more interesting, and so much more dynamic, than the male characters, but therein lies the innate tragedy of this particular moment in time. Like all women of the era, they are forced to play secondary roles. Powerful men mess everything up, while these tireless pragmatists try to put everything back together.

The Front Runner finds the power to inspire when it focuses on these small moments of connection, when the personal and the ideological meet in the daylight of mutual respect. These fleeting encounters feel so adult, so unflinching, that they remind us how empowering it is to be a grown-up and accept responsibility for your own life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.

We’ve lost much of that constitutional power of late, but if The Front Runner says anything, it’s about that loss. Our loss of innocence and idealism, and our willingness to believe in any self-described saviour who can save us from our sins. The Constitution of any nation begins with the constitution of its souls. If there’s a crisis, the frontrunner is the easiest to blame, but in the end, it’s the body politic that’s poisoned.

@katherinemonk

Main photo: Hugh Jackman as Gary Hart in Jason Reitman’s The Front Runner. Courtesy of Sony Pictures.
THE EX-PRESS, November 15, 2018

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Review: The Front Runner

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3.5Score

Jason Reitman recreates the late-80s political landscape to survey the moment when the sober Republic turned into All-American spectacle: Gary Hart’s soiled Presidential bid, spoiled by sex scandal and the rise of tabloid TV. The Front Runner finds the power to inspire when it focuses on small moments of connection, when the personal and the ideological meet in the daylight of mutual respect. These fleeting encounters feel so adult, so unflinching, that they remind us how empowering it is to be a grown-up and accept responsibility for your own life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. -- Katherine Monk

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