Mercilessly razzed by the press at its much-belated Toronto premiere earlier this month — it was originally set to open last Christmas, and has since acquired the odor of rancid eggnog — All the King's Men, the new adaptation of Robert Penn Warren's Pulitzer-winning novel (previously made into a 1949 Oscar-chomping juggernaut), doesn't stink so much as stagnate.
If you've seen the trailer, that may seem unlikely, since virtually every shot spotlights Sean Penn a-whoopin' and a-hollerin' as self-proclaimed 'hick' Louisiana governor Willie Stark. But while Penn, one of our most internalized actors, has a tin ear for grandiose oratory, his angry rants at the dais take up relatively little screen time.
Instead, writer-director Steven Zaillian (Searching for Bobby Fischer) sticks close to the source material, focusing on the unsentimental education of Stark's advisor, cynical journalist Jack Burden (Jude Law). That Burden comes across as a mopey cipher, watching impassively as Stark metamorphoses from outraged idealist to corrupt demagogue, isn't really Law's fault — John Ireland was arguably even less dynamic in the '49 version. (On the other hand, the talented Patricia Clarkson barely registers in the same role that Mercedes McCambridge transformed into a fiery portrait of a woman scorned.) But not for nothing is one man named Stark and the other Burden. Without the book's interior monologue plumbing the depths of Jack's acrid soul, All the King's Men feels leaden and lifeless whenever it strays from Willie's histrionics, overbearing and unpersuasive though they may be.
Still, that's an understandable choice — if anything, a case of too much integrity. More puzzling, given that Zaillian and exec producer James Carville are clearly shooting for contemporary resonance, is the way that the film soft-peddles Stark's misdeeds in office, which receive so little attention that it almost feels like a non sequitur when the State Senate launches impeachment hearings. We see Stark urging Burden to dig up dirt on recalcitrant opponents (most notably a courtly judge played by Anthony Hopkins), and hear vague murmurs of kickbacks and strongarm tactics, but today that seems practically de rigueur; head for the restroom at the wrong time and you could easily believe yourself to be watching the story of an innocent man unjustly persecuted for trying to give the little guy a helping hand. Or maybe just for being really loud and obnoxious in a variable Southern accent. — Mike D'Angelo