Lee Daniels' The Butler purports to tell a little-known story from American history. Of course, the reason that it's little known is that it's mostly fiction. The drama, about an African-American butler named Cecil Gaines (Forest Whitaker) who witnesses history as he serves seven different presidents, claims to be "inspired by a true story." It's adapted from a news article about a man named Eugene Allen, who worked for eight different first families. (You can read the original piece here.) But aside from their job, their skin color and a few other minor details, the life of the fictional Gaines bears little resemblance to that of the real-life Allen. Saying this movie is "inspired by a true story" is like saying the Indiana Jones movies are also inspired by true stories because there are really such things as archeologists and Nazis.
The movie could more accurately be described as "Forest Whitaker Gump." Just as Tom Hanks' Gump character stumbles into the center of major historical events of the 20th century, Whitaker's Gaines always seems to be serving some kind of food or beverage to the Oval Office right in the middle of a pivotal conversation about the Civil Rights Movement. It's a screen writing trick to connect Gaines – who spends almost the whole movie at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue – to the turbulent events going on in the outside world. The other device used to connect him is the invention of a son who's a foot soldier in the struggle.
That leads to the film's central conflict (because the fight for civil rights isn't dramatic enough?). It's a conflict not between black and white, but between father and son. As Cecil's son Louis becomes more and more involved in the movement for equal rights – first as practitioner of non-violent resistance and then as a more militant activist – the pair become more and more estranged. The rift seems to be driven by Louis' rejection of the very establishment that his father makes his living serving. While that is an interesting dramatic struggle, it isn't fully explored and the conflict results in making the elder Gaines seem less sympathetic and – to put it more bluntly – kind of a jerk.
Louis' story is in many ways more compelling. The movie could have been simply about him. His journey through the Civil Rights Movement contains important lessons for younger viewers and poignant reminders for older ones. The depiction of a sit-in at a segregated lunch counter is particularly wrenching. But the film is merely a thumbnail sketch of the battle for racial equality, simplifying what was a long and complex struggle.
However, as fatal flaws go, superficial storytelling and unsympathetic characters take a back seat to the movie's stunt casting. The portrayals of the presidents resemble "Saturday Night Live" sketches, or worse, episodes of Comedy Central's "Drunk History." If you had to pick a president for Robin Williams to play, Dwight D. Eisenhower probably wouldn't be at the top of anyone's list (I'd go Truman). While Alan Rickman surprisingly looks the part as Ronald Reagan, hearing him struggle with an American accent shatters the illusion. (He couldn't fool Bruce Willis with that accent in Die Hard 25 years ago, what makes him think he can fool us now?) While John Cusack gives an understated performance as Richard Nixon, I could not help but snicker every time he came on screen. I just could not get it out of my head that I was watching Lloyd Dobler with a prosthetic nose. Who thought it was a good idea to pick one of Hollywood's most likable actors to play a man who had a reputation for being distant and awkward? The only presidential casting that really works is James Marsden as JFK. He pretty much nails the part. It helps that he's a classic leading man – and so was Kennedy. Other supporting roles are also better chosen. Outspoken liberal Jane Fonda, ironically enough, makes a perfect Nancy Reagan.
Picking presidents isn't the biggest casting issue. Instead, the decision that took me out of the movie the most was the choice of female lead. Make no mistake: Oprah Winfrey gives a very, very, very good performance as Cecil's long-suffering wife. She's truly outstanding. If she hadn't returned to her talk show career after making "The Color Purple," she may have gone on to become one of the finest actresses of all-time. But sadly, through no fault of her own, while sitting through this movie, I never once forgot I was watching a global media icon on screen. Audiences have mostly gotten to know Oprah as one person – herself. So, it becomes very hard to see her as anyone else. In a bizarre way, she's literally too famous to be a movie star.
I would have loved to have seen what this movie would have been like if it had stuck more closely to the life of the real White House butler and if its casting choices weren't so unconventional.
The movie could more accurately be described as "Forest Whitaker Gump." Just as Tom Hanks' Gump character stumbles into the center of major historical events of the 20th century, Whitaker's Gaines always seems to be serving some kind of food or beverage to the Oval Office right in the middle of a pivotal conversation about the Civil Rights Movement. It's a screen writing trick to connect Gaines – who spends almost the whole movie at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue – to the turbulent events going on in the outside world. The other device used to connect him is the invention of a son who's a foot soldier in the struggle.
That leads to the film's central conflict (because the fight for civil rights isn't dramatic enough?). It's a conflict not between black and white, but between father and son. As Cecil's son Louis becomes more and more involved in the movement for equal rights – first as practitioner of non-violent resistance and then as a more militant activist – the pair become more and more estranged. The rift seems to be driven by Louis' rejection of the very establishment that his father makes his living serving. While that is an interesting dramatic struggle, it isn't fully explored and the conflict results in making the elder Gaines seem less sympathetic and – to put it more bluntly – kind of a jerk.
Louis' story is in many ways more compelling. The movie could have been simply about him. His journey through the Civil Rights Movement contains important lessons for younger viewers and poignant reminders for older ones. The depiction of a sit-in at a segregated lunch counter is particularly wrenching. But the film is merely a thumbnail sketch of the battle for racial equality, simplifying what was a long and complex struggle.
However, as fatal flaws go, superficial storytelling and unsympathetic characters take a back seat to the movie's stunt casting. The portrayals of the presidents resemble "Saturday Night Live" sketches, or worse, episodes of Comedy Central's "Drunk History." If you had to pick a president for Robin Williams to play, Dwight D. Eisenhower probably wouldn't be at the top of anyone's list (I'd go Truman). While Alan Rickman surprisingly looks the part as Ronald Reagan, hearing him struggle with an American accent shatters the illusion. (He couldn't fool Bruce Willis with that accent in Die Hard 25 years ago, what makes him think he can fool us now?) While John Cusack gives an understated performance as Richard Nixon, I could not help but snicker every time he came on screen. I just could not get it out of my head that I was watching Lloyd Dobler with a prosthetic nose. Who thought it was a good idea to pick one of Hollywood's most likable actors to play a man who had a reputation for being distant and awkward? The only presidential casting that really works is James Marsden as JFK. He pretty much nails the part. It helps that he's a classic leading man – and so was Kennedy. Other supporting roles are also better chosen. Outspoken liberal Jane Fonda, ironically enough, makes a perfect Nancy Reagan.
Picking presidents isn't the biggest casting issue. Instead, the decision that took me out of the movie the most was the choice of female lead. Make no mistake: Oprah Winfrey gives a very, very, very good performance as Cecil's long-suffering wife. She's truly outstanding. If she hadn't returned to her talk show career after making "The Color Purple," she may have gone on to become one of the finest actresses of all-time. But sadly, through no fault of her own, while sitting through this movie, I never once forgot I was watching a global media icon on screen. Audiences have mostly gotten to know Oprah as one person – herself. So, it becomes very hard to see her as anyone else. In a bizarre way, she's literally too famous to be a movie star.
I would have loved to have seen what this movie would have been like if it had stuck more closely to the life of the real White House butler and if its casting choices weren't so unconventional.