C+Directed by Jonathan Levine Starring Charlize Theron and Seth Rogen Review by Jon Kissel |  |
While romantic comedies are in the midst of a comeback thanks to Netflix’s finely tuned algorithm, Long Shot aims its genre attempt at the world of politics at a time when no script can match the absurdity of the real world. The film not only asks the viewer to imagine something like a return to governmental normalcy, but it also proposes Charlize Theron and Seth Rogen as a credible couple. These are big requests, one of which the film pretends doesn’t exist and the other it constantly interrogates. Jonathan Levine, a deft director who knows his way around the line between drama and comedy, accomplishes some of what he needed to with Long Shot, a film that entertains but doesn’t elevate.
Long Shot begins with its protagonists at opposite ends of their career trajectories. Theron’s Charlotte Field, the current Secretary of State, has just learned from her oafish boss (Bob Odenkirk) that he won’t be running for a second term, making it possible for her to become the next President. Rogen’s Fred Flarsky, a Vice-esque reporter who sprinkles plenty of self-aggrandizement into his muckraking, has just quit in protest after a billionaire (Andy Serkis) acquires his employer. They find themselves at the same fancy party due to Fred tagging along with his wealthy friend Lance (O’Shea Jackson Jr), and rekindle an acquaintance that dates back to when Charlotte used to babysit for Fred. She hires him as a speechwriter to the intense disapproval of Charlotte’s staffer Maggie (June Diane Raphael), but Charlotte appreciates that Fred connects her to a time when she was an idealistic teenage world-beater instead of a dealmaker in the midst of a climate proposal, having to decide which swathe of the environment will be handed over for exploitation.
Theron has occasionally dressed down over the course of her career, both in appearance (Monster) and personality (Young Adult). This is not the case in Long Shot. She is at her charming, intelligent, statuesque best here, putting her in razor-sharp contrast to Rogen, who is accentuating his schlubbiness and willingness to embarrass himself. Fred’s default uniform is a series of windbreakers, and he’s given to pratfalls and humiliating gross-out gags. With such a vast dichotomy, Long Shot signifies its understanding that this pairing makes no sense, and then openly asks the implied questions due to Charlotte’s public position. The film lives in a past that doesn’t exist anymore with its focus grouped candidates and numerical values assigned to this or that trait, and then introduces someone like Fred into that world, a hectoring and dismissive lefty who can only poll badly.
All of this reluctance is put in Raphael’s mouth, who witheringly rattles off Fred’s endless negatives. Between her and Fred is Charlotte, an incredibly powerful person who shouldn’t abase herself for anyone and especially not him. The film understands this as well, and Levine takes steps to demonstrate in some cathartic and transporting scenes how Charlotte’s waning idealism is invigorated by Fred’s bluntness and disconnection from her world. It also gives her some righteous indignation which is a bold-faced positive in the pro-con columns of whether or not to be with Fred. The film doesn’t need to convince Fred to be with Charlotte, but vice versa, and it does a good job of making the incredible at least vaguely possible.
Outside of the romance, the film, written by Liz Hannah and Dan Sterling, has a strong grasp on the Macrons and Trudeaus of the world. Alexander Skarsgard is a scene-stealer as the prime minister of Canada and a more appropriate, for Maggie at least, romantic interest for Charlotte. A boring centrist who can make the wags swoon, Skarsgard nails the character’s public need to be self-effacing about his good looks while carrying himself in such a way that connotes the confidence of being a Nordic god. He and Charlotte bond over how their low-scoring quirks have been stage-managed into oblivion, a practice that seems to have been rejected in the age of Trump and Boris Johnson, but it provides Long Shot with the undeniable moment of Skarsgard breaking out his weird banished giggle.
Considering its feel as a movie about a theoretical Hillary Clinton presidency as opposed to the one we live under now, Long Shot might have little to say about the current moment but it is an entertaining diversion from said moment. No one in the cast or crew is doing their best work, but that’s no great sin when one’s resume includes Fury Road or 50/50. Long Shot inspires comparisons to the exact type of pol it parodies, a good-looking and reasonably effective package that isn’t quite setting the world on fire. C+
Theron has occasionally dressed down over the course of her career, both in appearance (Monster) and personality (Young Adult). This is not the case in Long Shot. She is at her charming, intelligent, statuesque best here, putting her in razor-sharp contrast to Rogen, who is accentuating his schlubbiness and willingness to embarrass himself. Fred’s default uniform is a series of windbreakers, and he’s given to pratfalls and humiliating gross-out gags. With such a vast dichotomy, Long Shot signifies its understanding that this pairing makes no sense, and then openly asks the implied questions due to Charlotte’s public position. The film lives in a past that doesn’t exist anymore with its focus grouped candidates and numerical values assigned to this or that trait, and then introduces someone like Fred into that world, a hectoring and dismissive lefty who can only poll badly.
All of this reluctance is put in Raphael’s mouth, who witheringly rattles off Fred’s endless negatives. Between her and Fred is Charlotte, an incredibly powerful person who shouldn’t abase herself for anyone and especially not him. The film understands this as well, and Levine takes steps to demonstrate in some cathartic and transporting scenes how Charlotte’s waning idealism is invigorated by Fred’s bluntness and disconnection from her world. It also gives her some righteous indignation which is a bold-faced positive in the pro-con columns of whether or not to be with Fred. The film doesn’t need to convince Fred to be with Charlotte, but vice versa, and it does a good job of making the incredible at least vaguely possible.
Outside of the romance, the film, written by Liz Hannah and Dan Sterling, has a strong grasp on the Macrons and Trudeaus of the world. Alexander Skarsgard is a scene-stealer as the prime minister of Canada and a more appropriate, for Maggie at least, romantic interest for Charlotte. A boring centrist who can make the wags swoon, Skarsgard nails the character’s public need to be self-effacing about his good looks while carrying himself in such a way that connotes the confidence of being a Nordic god. He and Charlotte bond over how their low-scoring quirks have been stage-managed into oblivion, a practice that seems to have been rejected in the age of Trump and Boris Johnson, but it provides Long Shot with the undeniable moment of Skarsgard breaking out his weird banished giggle.
Considering its feel as a movie about a theoretical Hillary Clinton presidency as opposed to the one we live under now, Long Shot might have little to say about the current moment but it is an entertaining diversion from said moment. No one in the cast or crew is doing their best work, but that’s no great sin when one’s resume includes Fury Road or 50/50. Long Shot inspires comparisons to the exact type of pol it parodies, a good-looking and reasonably effective package that isn’t quite setting the world on fire. C+
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