Vice

"How did you become such a cold son of a bitch?," asks Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell, genius) to Dick Cheney (Christian Bale, also a genius) in "Vice," Adam McKay's lively, jaundiced biopic that turns a laser on the most secretive of politicos. That Rumsfeld - played with a clueless glee by Carell - would ask such a question is a bit much: didn't he (as the film points out) teach Cheney the way to play the real politick game of the Republican party in the latter half of the 20th Century? Why should he be surprised?

But is anyone surprised to see that Cheney is the dick portrayed here? He pretty much is known to be the architect behind the disastrous policies of the George W. Bush administration, some so horrendous in their human rights abuses that Rumsfeld wondered if both he and Cheney would be brought up on war crimes. (Remember waterboarding?) What can a film about him bring to the table that we don't already know?

Plenty, it turns out, which McKay lays out in the cinematic equivalent of Tom Wolfe's gonzo journalism with a decided point-of-view. McKay comes to bury Cheney, not to praise him. He even elevates Cheney and his wife Lynne (a superb Amy Adams) to a Shakespearean level with a scene of them having pillow talk with dialogue taken from "Macbeth" in which they plot their nefarious power grab. The Cheneys don't kill their king - they don't have to: George W. Bush (a likable Sam Rockwell) happily acquiesces power.

The scene where Bush does so has been teased to death in the film's trailer seen on the morning news shows for months now, so it may seem a bit of an anticlimax. But the exchange has a spooky verisimilitude thanks the physical resemblance both men have to their real-life counterparts and how well they play their roles: Rockwell, playful and accommodating; Bale, adamant and determined.

McKay's didactic style often cuts away from the narrative with commentary, illustrations, and asides, breaking down the fourth wall in something of the cinematic equivalent of what Brecht wanted to do in the theater. It worked well in "The Big Short" in helping to contextualize the depth and breadth of the 2008 financial crisis. Here is sometimes feels disruptive, pulling away from the emotional thread of the narrative to make a point, many points it turns out.

What makes the film work is Bale's artful impersonation. With prosthetics and an additional 30-or-so pounds, the actor is barely recognizable as the older Cheney; but this mask gives the actor freedom to explore the complexities of the man. It may be hard to see nuances in such a breezy and blunt assessment of a man's life, but Bale conveys some tender moments, as when he expresses his unconditional love for his daughter Mary (Allison Peel) when she comes out to him. Lynne responds coldly, but Dick embraces her and promises to protect her from the homophobic policies of his political party. The gay issue becomes crucial in the film's emotional trajectory, leading to a surprisingly potent climax where the personal becomes political.

While decades and administrations flee by, from Nixon through Bush, Cheney stealthily gathers power with the assistance of Lynne, who, McKay suggests early on, is the power behind the man. Adams plays her as cold and ruthless throughout – a cautious politico with a scorpion's sting; and, wisely, McKay has her express her Machiavellian goals in an early scene (set in 1963) in which she confronts her fianc�e Dick, an aimless drunk working a dead-end job in their Wyoming hometown, with an ultimatum: either he cleans up his act or she will leave him. He will be a somebody, because, as she puts it, she can't: "I can't go to a big Ivy League school," she tells him, "and I can't run a company or be mayor. That's just the way the world is for a girl."

The rest of the film reveals the fruits of their unholy alliance – the unbridled quest for power, and its often-calamitous results. That the Cheneys get richer and more powerful in the process gives the film a sense of a dark satire. Entering a DC party in 1978, Lynne turns to her husband and says, "half of them fear us; half of them want to be us." What Bale does best is convey Cheney's enormous confidence. His superpower, it is explained, is the ability to make wild and extreme ideas appear measured and professional (which McKay illustrates with a graphic example).

Cheney is also a lucky man, a plot thread personified by the film's narrator (Jesse Plemons), whose role in the story gives the film its biggest surprise. Plemons is an important if lesser-known character in the parade of famous personalities whom Cheney comes in contact with. They fly by -- from Henry Kissinger and George H.W. Bush to Condoleezza Rice, Colin Powell and Scooter Libby -- as Cheney methodically consolidates power, and reminds us that things were pretty much as disruptive then as it is now. If anyone is nostalgic for the Dubya years, they should see this film. The scariest idea the film introduces given our current situation is the notion of the Unitary Executive, an interpretation of Constitutional powers that all but gives the President absolute power. It is fitting that when Cheney learns of this from his lawyer, he bursts with glee. "Vice" never relents in portraying its subject as a monster – the Creature from the Halliburton Swamp – and it makes for grim fun if fanciful history.