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The 20 Best Political Movies

A ranked list of the 20 greatest movies about the U.S. political process, from comedies like ‘Idiocracy’ to dramas like ‘Lincoln’ and more

Collage of political movies

Left to right: 'Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,' 'Lincoln,' 'Election,' 'Idiocracy,' 'Dr. Strangelove,' 'All the President's Men' PHOTO ILLUSTRATION BY MATTHEW COOLEY. IMAGES IN ILLUSTRATION: EVERETT COLLECTION, 4. JOHN KISCH ARCHIVE/GETTY IMAGES.

Perhaps you’ve heard there’s a presidential election coming up? One that may, in fact, be the single most important referendum on our way of government in our lifetime? It is a reality that may have you looking for inspiration in the final weeks leading up to Nov. 5 — or escape. How better to thread this particular needle than with movies about American politics? Filmmakers have long been dealing with the topic of our nation’s origin story, and how our particular manner of governance — “by the people, for the people,” or at least that’s how it reads on the page — has contributed to the idealistic image of America that its citizens hold near and dear to our hearts. But well before Watergate became more than just a hotel, the movies have also cast a keen kino-eye on how American democracy is a notion that’s ideal in conception and too often flawed in execution. Here are our picks for the 20 best films exploring the good, the bad, and the extremely ugly aspects of American politics.

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From Rolling Stone US

6

‘Wag the Dog’ (1997)

A master of media manipulation (Robert DeNiro) taps a Hollywood producer (Dustin Hoffman) to help him manufacture an international crisis with enough juice to distract from news that the President of the United States propositioned a Girl Scout in the Oval Office 11 days out from the election. This plot would have sounded far-fetched when it was released in December 1997 — for about a month, at least, until news broke that Bill Clinton had been conducting an affair with a White House intern. (His administration later went on to bomb a pharmaceutical plant in Sudan, drawing criticism that he was trying to pull a “wag the dog.”) Hoffman’s Stanley Motss throws himself into the assignment, hiring a young ingénue (Kirsten Dunst) to play a refugee escaping her burning village, cradling a bag of Tostitos, in front of a green screen (the chips would be subbed out for a kitten in postproduction), among other strokes of brilliance. Motss is ultimately undone, of course, by his burning desire for public recognition of the work he did duping millions of voters into re-electing the guy. (He complains at one point that there is no Academy Award for producing — apparently collecting for Best Picture isn’t credit enough!) Decades later, the cynical send-up of both D.C.’s political operators and the gullible masses they influence not only retains its charm, it feels relevant as ever. —Tessa Stuart

5

‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’ (1939)

Frank Capra often made movies about idealists: “Most of these heroes have faith… Faith in goodness and in the innate goodness of human beings. They lived that and they believed it.” The Oscar-winning director found the perfect vessel for such optimism in James Stewart, who played Jefferson Smith, the prototypical small-town dreamer who becomes a U.S. senator, discovering to his dismay just how corrupt Washington politicians are. Condemned at the time by some for supposedly being anti-American, this patriotic classic remains prescient about the limitations of idealism when facing a broken system in which business interests and the elite conspire to keep the sort of change Mr. Smith proposes from happening. And for those quick to dismiss Capra’s humanist dramas as corny, look how much Smith’s faith and decency are challenged — such a principled stand is so stirring precisely because it is so staunchly tested. —T.G.

4

‘The Candidate’ (1972)

Can politics destroy a person’s soul? We know the answer to that now, of course, but when director Michael Richie’s satire came out in 1972, the idea was revelatory. Robert Redford, looking as gorgeously camera-ready as ever, plays Bill McKay, a lawyer who happens to be the son of a former governor. The wily campaign strategist Marvin Lucas (Peter Boyle) sees Bill as a perfect candidate to run against an incumbent Republican Senator. He’s handsome and genuine — just the kind of person who can unseat the tired, fusty opponent. As the campaign drags on, you can see the life seeping out of him, and though McKay still acts the part well, it turns out to be just that: acting. The prescience of this clear-eyed look at where politics was headed can’t be overstated. Back when people assumed we could trust the people in office, The Candidate proved it’s all a machine. —E.Z.

3

‘Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned How to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb’ (1964)

Stanley Kubrick had originally planned on doing a dead-serious take on the threat of nuclear annihilation (and should you crave that, we highly recommend Sidney Lumet’s Fail Safe, an equally great political movie released later that same year). Instead, he and screenwriter Terry Southern pivoted to the absurdity of a U.S.-USSR endgame of mutually assured destruction, and produced what may the ultimate black comedy. How else to describe a film that soundtracks our species’ self-destructive demise with the ironically cheery “We’ll Meet Again”? Everyone remembers Peter Sellers’ bizarro take on the title character, a former Nazi scientist spitting out mass death stats when he’s not fighting with his own mechanical hand. What sticks out now is the second of his three performances here, in which he plays President Merkin Muffley, a liberal-leaning commander-in-chief (based loosely on Democratic candidate Adlai Stevenson). His one-sided conversation with the Russian premier only enhances the idea that even the most powerful leaders are powerless when the clock strikes Armageddon time. And he comes off better than his fellow politicians, foreign bureaucrats, and military wackadoos, all of whom are either complete boobs or the sort of petty, combative cretins that inspire what remains a pitch-perfect punchline: “Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here — this is a War Room!” —D.F.

2

‘In the Loop’ (2009)

When the first line of a movie is, “Morning, my little chicks and cocks,” don’t say you weren’t warned. Armando Iannucci’s profane political satire is far more than a dress rehearsal for his later project Veep — though the two share faux-vérité cinematography and biting insults. (A highly incomplete sampling of nicknames from this film: “Young Lankenstein,” “Abattoir of room meat,” “Leaky Mingebox,” and “Scary little poodle-fucker.”) Set amid the run-up to a possible war pitting the U.S. and England against an unnamed enemy, “there are very few redeeming characters in it,” Iannucci said upon its release. Even that’s an understatement. A State department higher-up doctors an official government transcript, visiting British politicians discuss being too afraid to masturbate in the nation’s capital, and “ram it up the shitter with a lubricated horse cock” is an acceptable, if not encouraged, way to talk to your co-workers. Even if political humor isn’t your bag, hearing a Scottish press officer call opera “Subsidized! Foreign! Fucking! Vowels!” — one of many insults hurled with the speed of a fastball and the twist of a screwball — is worth it alone. Fuckity-bye! —Jason Newman

1

‘All the President’s Men’ (1976)

A great newspaper drama and an even better political thriller, this Oscar winner turned recent history into an electrifying and reassuring motion picture about the durability of America’s foundational institutions. No one who saw this adaptation of journalists Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward’s book had any doubt about the ending — we already knew those dogged Washington Post reporters were going to connect the Watergate break-in to Richard Nixon, who would resign the presidency — and yet the movie couldn’t be more gripping. Perhaps it was because director Alan J. Pakula and screenwriter William Goldman imagined the film as a taut procedural, in which Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford are the grouchy, unconventional buddy-cop duo who’ll pound the pavement trying to find sources willing to go on the record. Maybe it was because the cast was filled with a murderers’ row of incredible character actors, including Jason Robards, who took home a Best Supporting Actor Oscar as eternally stern Post editor Ben Bradlee. Or maybe it was because everyone involved managed to perfectly balance the story’s mixture of patriotic fervor and stripped-down professionalism, viewing the Watergate cover-up as an urgent crisis that challenged the very principles of our democracy. Those alarm bells have not diminished in the nearly 50 years since the film’s release — if anything, the crisis feels even more present and harrowing now than it did then. Perhaps that’s why so many of us return to All the President’s Men: We want to be reminded that, eventually, justice will prevail and the bad guys will be taken down. Sometimes, that hope is all we have. —T.G.