“In The Loop” (2009) In Armando Iannucci’s funhouse version of both the U.S. and U.K. governments, characters don’t just curse. They unleash grand operatic arias of profanity, approaching four-letter expletives with the same spirit of restless creativity that Jean-Luc Godard brings to a camera. The virtuosic blue language is endlessly quotable, but more than that, it attests to the dog-eat-dog nature of politicking. Whoever can rage loudest and hardest wins, and so naturally, the human manifestation of fury, Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) is the key figure for anyone who wants to play ball in the major leagues. It falls to him to conduct damage control when an indelicately-phrased soundbite from the Minister of International Development (Tom Hollander) sets off a chain of events which could very well culminate in global war. Indeed, ‘Loop’ does evoke the swiss-watch precision of the plot of “Dr. Strangelove”, but the thematic underpinnings peg it as a comedy more concerned with miscommunication rather than outright deception. All it takes is an innocent misunderstanding to send the world careening towards oblivion, and humanity’s last hope against certain destruction is the glorious misanthropy on display in every direction in Iannucci’s picture. The lowly public has always suspected that politicians refer to people as “meat puppets” behind closed doors, but it’s still oddly reassuring to see it confirmed.
“Election” (1999) What might possess a high school teacher to rig something as inconsequential as a student- government election? Because this is an Alexander Payne film, the answer must necessarily be a combination of jealousy, sublimated resentment, pettiness and good old fashioned misogyny. Payne’s underappreciated debut “Citizen Ruth” first established the director’s pet theme: the way small-town folks get caught up in imbroglios with consequences that expand to a national scale. But for his breakout follow-up, Payne swapped out the hot-button abortion debate for a the less fraught milieu of the American high school. Reese Witherspoon would never outdo her tone-perfect performance as Tracey Flick, a student so monomaniacally driven that you want to strangle her, and Matthew Broderick nearly matches her as the Cool Teacher who recognizes a type-A monstrosity when he sees one and attempts to nip it in the bud. Payne’s interest lies mostly in the self-destructive havoc that egoism can wreak, but a rousing speech about halfway through the film underscores the film’s satirical leanings. Issues candidate Tracey and populist champion Paul fail to register a reaction from the student body with their campaign speeches, leaving outsider independent Tammy to offer an alternative. Her triumphant declaration that this is all a waste of everyone’s time and that there should be no student government at all, of course, brings the crowd to their feet. 
“The Candidate” (1972) In 1972, the thought of a Californian Democrat winning a seat in the Senate was nearly laughable. In fact, the possibility of a Democrat victory was so remote that the DNC heads in Michael Ritchie’s jaded satire “The Candidate” didn’t see any harm in throwing the nomination to a charismatic but naive junior politico (played with vanishing innocence by Robert Redford). They figure they’ll set the kid loose on the campaign trail, let him have his fun, and then his career will be set out to pasture. With no leash to go off of, Redford’s free to sermonize his no-bullshit morals, and when they stir up a little support from voters, he finds he likes the spotlight. Before long, it’s a race to the middle as he descends deeper and deeper into positive yet hollow vagaries in pursuit of the public’s favor. Like a reverse “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” and with all the brutal pessimism that comparison implies, Ritchie shows how the individual’s human fallibilities can do a number on any sense of ethical righteousness long before the institutions need to stamp it out. The refrain is as old as politics itself, beginning with a general named Caesar who enjoyed his unquestioned rule under martial law a little too much: power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. 
“The Great McGinty” (1940) In retrospect, it’s frankly astonishing that Preston Sturges was able to begin his directorial career with such a fully-realized assemblage of the hallmarks that’d make him the toast of Hollywood’s Golden Age in the years that followed. (Doubly so that he followed it with four stone-cold classics in a row: “Christmas in July,” “The Lady Eve,” “Sullivan’s Travels,” and “The Palm Beach Story” — check out our Sturges Essentials feature). It’s all on full display in the inspired tale of a machine-politics lackey who grows a conscience after falling for his just-for-show wife. Sturges’ man-of-the-people spirit of magnanimity contrives an ending that’s not exactly happy, but it is just. His screwy wit renders the whirlwind romance between Brian Donlevy as the title character and Muriel Angelus as his moral compass with a great set of gams not just believable, but effervescent. But above all, Sturges’ keen eye for the shifting dynamics of suckerism, guides this frothy creation, and it would never be more appropriate than in the muddy arena of politics. Sturges takes such palpable pleasure in turning the tables; he lives at the turning point where the chump becomes the chump-er. (The harebrained logic of that turn of phrase gels with the comic nuttiness of Sturges’ satire, don’t worry.) Got any other favorite satires on double-dealing politicians and the ethics they subvert? Let us know in the comments below.