W.

Measured to a fault and lacking in cinema magic, Oliver Stone's textbook W. delivers none of the mudslinging panache most viewers might expect. Instead Stone's biopic of the still in office controversial president creates a relatively sedate, modestly sympathetic portrayal of George W. Bush that dramatizes some of the more historic behind closed door moments in the president's life (a war room sequence debating the invasion of Iraq) and carnivalizes certain iconic oddities in the president's history (the famous pretzel incident). The result is an uneven picture that's often entertaining but never as revolutionary in its thinking or telling as you'd like.

Josh Brolin is charismatic and accurate in the title role, assuming enough of the president's mannerisms and vocal intonations to make him instantly recognizable but not a soulless, mirror impersonation. Not every cast member is as successful balancing impersonation with authentic acting, though. Elizabeth Banks, for example, makes no effort to resemble Laura Bush, but gives a very likable and tender performance nonetheless. Thandie Newton makes every effort to look and sound like Condoleezza Rice and in the process loses hold of the character's motivation, allowing only for iffy imitation.

By the time the film establishes pace, the authenticity of each actor matter's less and the quality of the material more. It's a decently stacked script that mixes the farcically comic and the darkly tragic. Each scene, though, seems to have its own contained momentum. When pieced together, they feel somehow stagnant. Nothing seems put together in a way that sheds light or creates a feeling of deeper understanding. Stone's stylistic flourishes, including a bookending baseball fantasy, seem specifically designed to draw connections where connections are thin. Ultimately, the film still feels like a laundry list of scenes and not a complete work of singular power.

The film's conclusion does no favors to what comes before. It's true dramatic climax is nothing but a dream and it leaves the audience not knowing more, but simply wondering why, with all the moments of world importance to stress, Stone chose to make the crux of this story imaginary. There's also a hole where the ending should be. As Bush's story continues to unfold in the public eye, there's no real end to be had in this fictional account. The send off is minor and unsatisfying, a further note of incongruity in a feature that feels well-made yet somehow vacant where its passion should be.

Grade: B-