Just When You Thought The Electoral Process Couldn't Get Any Sleazier, Along Comes 'Election.'
By James DiGiovanna
IT'S SO ODD to see a good movie this time of year, I'm
at a loss for what to say about Election. Umm, go see it?
This is the second good film in a row from MTV Productions (the
last was Go), which almost redeems them for that pathetic
200 Cigarettes. Election is a wicked (some would
say "deliciously wicked") story about an election for
class president in a Nebraska high school.
Directed by Alexander Payne, who made the cynical, smart and
funny Citizen Ruth, Election is a cinematic oddity
wherein most of the dialogue is in the form of voice-overs, and
such old-fashioned effects as freeze-frame and double-exposure
reassert themselves with as much life and force as all the computer
animation that George Lucas can excrete in a lifetime of egestions.
Reese Witherspoon plays the overly ambitious student who will
be elected student body president by any means necessary. She's
the ultimate brown-noser and grade-grubber, her perfectly coifed
'do and demure jumpers covering an interior life that makes Richard
Nixon seem like Blind Lemon Jefferson.
But there's more to Witherspoon's character "Tracy Flick"
than her goody-two-shoes soullessness would imply. Her favorite
teacher sums up the pleasures of having her as a student by noting
that "her pussy gets so wet you wouldn't believe it."
This leads to his dismissal, and causes his best friend, civics
instructor Jim McAllister (played by Matthew Broderick), to be
extremely wary of her.
Thus, when McAllister finds out Flick's planning to take her
conscience-free bag of tricks into student politics, he convinces
sappy do-gooder and injured ex-football star Paul Metzler to run
against her. The angelically stupid Metzler is prone to saying
things like "gee, she's supernice," in a painfully sincere
voice.
Unfortunately for Metzler, he draws his sister's wrath when he
unwittingly steals away her girlfriend. Unaware that his sister's
"best friend" is something more, he notes in his voice-over
narrative that he "sure was surprised the day Lisa Flanagan
asked me for a ride home and wound up blowing me."
This sends his sister, Tammy, into the race for president in
an effort to get revenge. In her stump speech she infuriates everyone
except her beatific brother (who remains baffled by virtually
everything she does) by denouncing the entire election for the
sham popularity contest that it is. Her speech, which closes with,
"So vote for me, or don't vote for me, or don't vote at all--who
cares?" winds up getting the best reaction from the jaded
student body, even as it gets the candidate suspended from school.
The story of political machinations by pubescent future potentates
is certainly ripe for the kind of no-heroes approach director
Payne gives it. All the characters are either wicked, stupid or
somewhat pathetic, providing a nice balance to what would have
been a simple story of good and bad in the hands of most H-wood
auteurs.
Payne directs each actor differently, so there's an interesting
melange of styles. Witherspoon is comically soulless, able to
turn from a pout to a camera-ready smile in the blink of an eye.
Broderick is the ultimate self-deluded loser, basically the guy
Ferris Bueller was going to grow up to be. Chris Klein, as Paul
Metzler, is impossibly good, kind and stupid. He basically acts
like Keanu Reeves, if Keanu were acting that way on purpose. The
most well-rounded character is bitter, rebellious teen lesbian
Tammy Metzler, whose dream is to piss her parents off enough to
get them to send her to an all-girls Catholic school.
The unnatural acting styles are complemented by old-fashioned
camera tricks. When Witherspoon starts into her canned speeches,
Payne freezes the shot, leaving her with a twisted expression
as Matthew Broderick's voice-over explains her vicious, Reagan-era,
over-achieving character. When Broderick has sex with his wife,
who in an effort to conceive eggs him on with "fill me up...fill
me up," cheesy overlays of Witherspoon's face appear to take
up the chant.
There's also a plethora of semi-subliminal background images,
like the closely aligned letters of campaign buttons that say
"PICK FLICK." A sign outside a motel where Broderick
goes for an assignation reads "Welcome Seed Dealers."
The kind of inspirational posters that mid-level executives who've
had soul-ectomies buy are strewn about Tracy Flick's bedroom.
And when one of the characters goes to New York, a montage of
scenes from the city set the stage, though they're all stock footage
from the early '70s.
The combination of these small touches with dialogue perfectly
suited to its characters' odd delivery--and a mean-spirited story
about meaningless ambition--make Election the funniest
and most astute film since
Rushmore.
Election is playing at Catalina (881-0616),
Century Gateway (792-9000) and Foothills (742-6174)
cinemas.
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