Sarah Palin was not ready to become a politician under the burden of mass media. She might have been able to participate in local government, even lead it. That I don’t know. We’re only told the story of her doomed not-so-road to the White House as John McCain’s running mate in the 2008 presidential election, her being wrenched from the sleepy, isolated world of Alaska for her female conservative appeal and shoved into a series of interviews, debates, and public outings that she was not prepared for.
This information is sufficiently presented in the HBO film Game Change, a traditional dramatization that plots the works of the modern political machine. Our study of history often cuts the fat, and the filmmakers behind this movie know it. It isn’t a matter of whether we should remember the fight McCain put up against the Illinois senator Barack Obama, but whether we will, sooner or later. Before the opportunity is lost, producers are bound to release a tell-all to define the moment in recent news coverage that we can recall well but still wonder about, whether the “tell” is accurate or not (just look at 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi. Or don’t. You know what, don’t do it. Don’t give Michael Bay your eyes.)
To that extent, I found Game Change enjoyable enough, for two reasons. Firstly, Julianne Moore (of course Julianne Moore) plays Palin with the strength and conviction she always brings to the table, enough to make us care about whoever she’s portraying. You can’t argue with good (really good) acting.
Secondly, Game Change is quite successful in being a movie about selling to the American public without selling much of anything itself, being biased, that is. In this film, we’re given two holistic, equally well-addressed arguments that can even coexist, one that states that the normally skillful McCain campaign board (led by Steve Schmidt, who’s played by Woody Harrelson) set up a disaster for themselves (true), and another that demonstrates that Sarah Palin was and is a human being who didn’t deserve the ridicule she got (this is of course also true, but I must confess that Tina Fey’s impersonation, used to the effect of bullying in this film, makes me laugh.) It isn’t a matter of whether these people are Democrats or Republicans. When something falls apart, it falls apart.
I was pleased with what I found right in Game Change. Another viewing might not do it justice. A lot of the movie feels expository, and focusing on it might mean it’s too much. Palin’s family, her husband and children, are there for hugs and a vague sense of support. Campaign managers have ridiculous fights on hand-held phones. The McCain staff cheers and claps hands when their funds get a boost, like they’re from a sports drama. There’s a lot of humanity in this film that feels rather set up, very much like the image of a politician itself.
The double-edged sword: Moore is almost… too good. Harrelson, along with Ed Harris, who plays John McCain, secure their spots, but in a different way. They’re more grounded, the kind of people who would sit down at the bar for a drink. It’s true that the Palin character calls for intricate mannerisms that should be objective, being careful not to be touchy. Moore nails it, but she needs to speak every line with thunder. We constantly have to adjust going from her acting to other, subtler performances.
But for the scenes where her Palin is flustered and the most human, we understand everything we need to. Chaotic rallies, awkward news segments, and yes, the disastrous Katie Couric interview, all seem to sprout from very rational causes, now that we see Moore relaying her nervous breakdowns, the strains on her personal life, and the difficult task of expressing what she believed in a judging environment.
There’s a scene toward the end of the film where Harrelson’s senior campaign strategist sits down with McCain after the results of the election are out. They’re alone in a small room off to the side in the campaign quarters. Disappointment floats in the air, appropriately. McCain tries to make something out of the failure in this little moment, like a “it’s-been-a-wild-ride” type deal. And Schmidt, head down, does away with the fake optimism and mutters something to the effect of, “I’m sorry I chose her.”
Game Change doesn’t completely capture the “history” of the election. It leaves out McCain’s side of the story, and I’m surprised there wasn’t a stronger focus on Obama’s campaign to show contrast in strategy. But the film gets its focus down, the two parties of Sarah Palin and the campaign staff that pushed her too hard, too early. Whether the blame goes to both or neither, these two groups met each other in the wrong place at the wrong time. This close-to-last scene plays really nicely when you consider that. When it comes, we feel as though we’ve earned just that, no more, no less.
