Politics is a poison that eats the soul _ especially the soul of a mangenue who dips his foot in the acid water completely believing it's a fountain of hope. The Ides of March, George Clooney's fourth film as writer/director, says that much, which is not much, given the time of cynicism and embittered tussle we all (and not just the US citizens in their election year) are inhabiting. The machination of the plot and escalating disillusionment of the Ryan Gosling's character, a visionary press secretary turned rookie viper, have just enough stings to keep us involved, yet this liberal's guilt trip treats the dark side of democracy with such cerebral knowingness. Politics hurts, and when it does it kicks the guts _ I wish the dagger had been more ruthless and visceral.
THE IDES OF MARCH Starring Ryan Gosling, George Clooney, Evan Rachel Wood, Philip Syemour Hoffman. Directed by George Clooney. Limited release.
Gosling plays Stephen Meyers, a hotshot press agent working in the Democratic primary campaign for Governor Mike Norris (Clooney), a pro-choice, anti-war, green-groupie presidential candidate riding high in the polls. A clever strategist who believes in the message of hope and change _ yes, it rings a lot of bells _ Meyers is headhunted by the rival Democrat's campaign manager, Tom Duffy, played with seasoned relish by Paul Giamatti. Meanwhile a sexy 20-year-old intern (Evan Rachel Wood) lusts after Meyers and gradually becomes a pawn in the sordid intrigue (not sordid enough anyway) that stirs up a campaign already threatened by lies, subterfuge and backroom bargains.
It's only a matter of time before Meyers turns from a bright-eyed believer into a freshman mud-slinger, all under the eye of his world-weary campaign head Paul (Philip Seymour Hoffman). The Ides of March, adapted from a play by Beau Willimon, lays bare the inner workings of a campaign that relies on technology, tactics, press collusion, and then shows how ideology is a fodder for human weaknesses. Nothing new exactly, and the engine of this is more interesting than the arrival of the inevitable lesson, which comes halfway into the film.
What sticks us with the whole set-up is the players, a coterie of smart men who've unknowingly sold their souls to the devil. Clooney, as Morris, embodies that winning formula of an intelligent seducer, a cocktail of charm and slickness that makes certain politicians (usually on the Left) irresistible, while Gosling's transformation from light to darkness suffers from the lack of emotional punch. Despite the puddles, it all seems a little too clinical. It's Giamatti and Hoffman who turn up to chew the scene, intensely yet effortlessly, and it's only too bad the narrative relegates them to the sidebar.
