"The Contender" review

A Victory For All Of Us

Political thrillers are a penny a pound.  Even fewer have any staying power, which is often due to the issue at hand being too time specific to have any resonance beyond the generation that experienced it.  While “The Contender” is a very contemporary film, its longevity and relevance is assured for decades because the conflict it chronicles is as old as the human race.  On the surface, the film circumscribes the endless cloak and dagger machinations between Democrats and Republicans, but lurking in the lower depths is the ancient schism between men and women.  The psychological abyss that separates the sexes often seems illimitable, especially when the few bridges built across this gulf are often made of fear and hatred.

Joan Allen plays Laine Hanson, the first female senator to be nominated for Vice President of the United States.  The previous VP has died of cancer, and President Jackson Evans, cunningly portrayed by Jeff Bridges, wants the successful selection of Laine to be his political swan song.  This is one of my favorite Jeff Bridges performances.  President Evans did not rise to his position by being stupid.  While he appears to be an amiable and uncomplicated man, deep waters churn behind his cool façade.  Evans is a veteran player.  He knows the game and he sees in Laine the same intellect, passion and unwavering dedication.

Despite his noble intentions, President Evans has legions of enemies, and he knows that Laine's path to ascendancy will be fraught with peril.  Even the most altruistic and resolute souls would lose faith in humanity when confronted by the myriad and malignant forces which instantly ally themselves against Evans and Laine.  At the head of the hydra is Shelly Runyon, whom Evans defeated in the last Presidential race.  Played with reptilian grace by Gary Oldman, Shelly Runyon radiates pure cold-blooded malice.  He cannot forgive Evans for besting him, and so will stop at nothing to take Laine down, even if it means turning her confirmation hearing into an abattoir.

Shelly's verbal assaults are like a lash to the impenitent, and the abuse that Laine is forced to absorb seemingly unendurable.  The televised proceedings quickly devolve into a public execution, and the microscopic scrutiny with which Laine's private life is dissected and distorted makes hyperbole seem as bland as milk.  Yet, she holds firm.  Laine does not bend.  Even in the face of horrific insults to her character and her worth as a human being, Laine holds firm.  The indomitable stoicism of Joan Allen’s performance is simply breathtaking.  She weathers the most withering accusations, and ultimately comes out as clean as a spring closet.  Like Evans, Laine understands that you can’t fight anger with anger, you have to outlast it.

The final scene between Laine and Evans is an absolutely brilliant coda, not only for this genre of film but for all cinema.  In the cool of the evening, the solitary pair embark on a celebratory stroll of the White House lawn.  As they indulge in the amusingly ironic machismo of smoking cigars, Laine finally reveals to Evans why she held herself in check through such an ordeal.  The reason is so smart, so prescient, and so fucking awesome that you love her character even more than you did before.  “The Contender” is a brilliant political thriller, made even more resounding by the courageous and uncompromising feminist heart that beats at its very center.