Wag the Dog (1997), directed by Barry Levinson

When Hollywood ran according to the rules of the Hays office, cynicism was all but outlawed: there always had to be at least a moral victory in every film. Right had to prevail. While it was sometimes permissible to portray government leaders as scoundrels (see Mr. Smith Goes to Washington), the scoundrels must receive their comeuppance by the end of the last reel. By the 1960's, the Hays office became increasingly irrelevant, and Hollywood indulged in the heretofore forbidden fruits of violence, profanity, sex, and yes, even cynicism.

The 70's were filled with many cynical movies about our nasty, corrupt government, many of them starring Robert Redford (All the President's Men, The Candidate, Three Days of the Condor). Since then, government as bogeyman has become almost a cliche. It takes a stronger and stronger attack to raise any sort of a stir these days. Certainly JFK raised some ire in 1991, but can you imagine the commotion it would have cause if it had been released in 1984 instead of 1991? Thus, Barry Levinson's Wag the Dog is forced to take cynicism to a new extreme. We are lied to by the media and the government? So what? The lies have become our new reality.

Two weeks before the election, the president (who is never seen throughout the movie), has been accused of sexual misconduct. Are the allegations true? The question is ultimately moot: true or untrue, they are about to be reported widely by the media. Once these reports have entered the public consciousness, they become a new reality. This is strongly prescient of our current situation, when any allegation is instantly taken at face value and becomes the gospel truth.

Spin Doctor Conrad Brean (Robert De Niro) is put into action: he knows that to fight the story directly is counter-productive. The way to conceal a big story is with a new and bigger one which will, in turn, become the new reality, at least for the two weeks until the election. Since the presidential sex scandal is no ordinary story, it will require the use of extraordinary smoke and mirrors. Thus Brean flies to Hollywood to consult with Stanley Motss (Dustin Hoffman), one of the most important of Hollywood's producers, a man who has a finger everywhere, who knows a little bit about everything, and who can regiment his vast personal resource of knowledge and connections to keep any troubled production on the rails.

Brean and Motss plan a war, or rather, the pageant of a war against an insignificant opponent. Albania is chosen because it is backwards and nobody except Jim Belushi comes from there. To simulate a war, Brean needs heart-tugging studio-concocted footage, as well as other trappings of war, like a patriotic song (remember all those banal songs we were treated to in the winter of 91?) and commemorative souvenirs. Luckily, Motss knows just the people to run an operation like this.

Brean thinks this may be enough, but Motss knows better. When the president's electoral opponent (Craig T. Nelson) peremptorily ends the war by simply announcing on television that that war is over, Motss goes on to act II, creating the story of one soldier lost, believed captured in Albania. Things continue to go wrong, and yet amidst all of this, Motss finds a silver lining and saves the day. Unfortunately, the movie does bog down: the first appearance of Woody Harrelson marks a surrealistic turn for the film, one from which it never completely recovers. The ending is, perhaps, a bit more bitter than is warranted.

Are Motss and Brean liars? Not exactly. The reality they create is just as valid as any other bit of "reality" seen on television news screens anywhere. "Reality," faked or not, defines all actions that must be taken. The cynicism of Wag the Dog reveals a new, almost hallucinatory realism. It could happen, it might actually already have happened, who knows? Whether or not it has happened in the past is probably impossible to prove either way.

David Mamet is credited as a co-writer, though it has been stated that he was actually the sole writer of the film's crackling dialogue In that, he is peerless: Brean and Motss's conversations keep Mamet's poetic flights of fancy while still dealing with the dirty business of this world. Dustin Hoffman obviously relishes the main role, imitating the Hollywood bigwigs he has so often worked with. De Niro has a quieter, more bemused part. Though his character is experienced in spinning out "reality," he is reverent in the presence of Hoffman the master.

The supporting cast is large and colorful. Both Denis Leary and Willie Nelson turn in fine performances, despite neither one being too well-known for acting range. There are some excellent original songs, including a first-rate "We Are the World" knockoff. Anne Heche has been overpraised for her role as a naive White House staffer, a role very possibly won as a reward for making her personal life among the nation's most well-publicized. I hope she isn't this lifeless in the upcoming 6 Days, 7 Nights.

Mark Knopfler, formerly the guitarist for Dire Straits, has composed the scores for several films; this may be his best. His guitar melodies seem to be an echo of sorts for Simon & Garfunkels acclaimed music for The Graduate. Perhaps it is intended to hark back to the naive (?!?) days of thirty years ago.

The chief distinction of Levinson's directorial style seems to be intelligent dialogue between the realistic characters. His track-record for choosing well-written scripts is nonpareil.

Three-and-a-half stars

Copyright 1998 by Dale G. Abersold 1