Cast: Chris Rock, Bernie Mac, Dylan Baker, Nick Searcy, Lynn Whitfield, Robin Givens, Tamala Jones, James Rebhorn
Director: Chris Rock
Producers: Ali LeRoi, Chris Rock, Michael Rotenberg
Screenplay: Chris Rock & Ali LeRoi
Cinematography: Donald E. Thorin
Music: Marcus Miller and David Blake
U.S. Distributor: Dreamworks
For his directorial debut, to whom does Chris Rock turn for inspiration? Always controversial, maverick filmmaker Spike Lee? No. Up-and-coming directors F. Gary Gray or Reginald Hudlin? No. Try Frank Capra. Head of State, about an improbable candidate who refuses to play by the rules and makes a run at the White House, bears more than a passing resemblance to one of Capra's most beloved fairy tales. Just call this Mr. Rock Goes to Washington.
The key term here is "fairy tale," because, although the movie occasionally tries for dramatic moments, they're overplayed, undercooked, and divorced from reality. The only way Head of State can work on any level is to view it as a fantasy. Otherwise, the words to describe the film's occasional forays into serious, message-oriented territory are "cloying" and "preachy." Feel-good scenarios like this can only thrive in an un-reality that connects tangentially and ephemerally with the world that exists outside of multiplexes.
It goes without saying that Head of State is a comedy. Even in his dramatically-oriented roles, which are few and far between, Rock is still something of a clown. Here, although the film lacks any instances of inspired hilarity, there are plenty of laughs to go around. The movie opens with arguably its most clever gag: fake opening credits that list, one after another, a who's who of politicians (Joe Lieberman, Bob Dole, Hilary Clinton…), before informing us that none of them are in the movie. Much of the humor in Head of State centers on the political arena. Despite one character's assertion that "this isn't a circus, it's a Presidential election," Rock clearly views election politics as three rings inside of a big-top. And, although Head of State's observations aren't as cutting as those in Bulworth, several hit home. (I especially liked the fake campaign commercials.) But the lack of edginess brings up another issue.
Bizarre as it may sound, it's a crime to force Rock into a PG-13 box. As has been proven on HBO, he's at his best when he's allowed to get as profane and ribald as he wants, and the need to tone him down and mute his comedy in order to satisfy a teen-friendly MPAA rating is unfortunate. Head of State's blandness is a direct result of the filmmakers' desire to reach a wide audience, but I can't help but think that the movie would have been a lot funnier if Rock had been allowed to cut loose.
The story takes place in the months leading up to the 2004 U.S. Presidential election. The polls have incumbent Vice President Brian Lewis (Nick Searcy) – whose primary credential for office is that he's Sharon Stone's cousin – far out in front, and his lead only increases when his opponent is killed in a plane crash. Needing an immediate and unorthodox replacement (someone who can lose but set things up for a victory in 2008), party leader Senator Bill Arnot (James Rebhorn) chooses D.C. Alderman Mays Gilliam (Chris Rock) as the nominee. Backed by the political acumen of his two advisors, Martin Geller (Dylan Baker) and Debra Lassiter (Lynn Whitfield), he increases his numbers in the polls from 9% to 10%. However, when he abandons carefully scripted speeches and spoon-fed slogans, his numbers show a big jump. Soon, Lewis sees Mays as a real challenger, and gets serious about knocking him off track. Meanwhile, Mays brings his brother, Mitch (Bernie Mac), on board as his running mate, and begins romancing a local gas mart checkout clerk (Tamala Jones).
Election shenanigans aren't exactly new to the cinema, and Head of State doesn't have much to offer that's original or revolutionary. The issue of racial equality in national elections is a potentially interesting aspect, but Rock tries to downplay this. As a TV sitcom pilot, Head of State might have potential, but, on a multiplex screen, the execution (if not the premise) is thin. Uneven comedy is part of the problem, but, taken as a fractured fairy tale, it's palatable. And at least it's more relevant than anything by Hans Christian Andersen.
© 2003 James Berardinelli