infused with the same sickly sentimentalityrnthat pervades the rest of the film. Duringrnher bizarre danee number followingrnBill’s death, Bjork sings a song featuringrnthis touching refrain: “The time it takesrnfor a tear to fall is all the time it takes tornforgive me.” I can’t agree: This tendentiousrnbathos is unforgivable.rnUnlike Dancer in the Dark, RodrnLurie’s The Contender has been beautifullyrnfilmed and smoothly edited. Its details,rnhowever, reveal an underlyingrnmoral ugliness. Watching it, I was remindedrnof Mary McCarthy’s commentrnabout Lillian Hellman’s elegantly writtenrnmemoir, Pentimento. Every word, McCarthyrnalleged, was a lie, including thern”ands” and the “ors.” The same could bernsaid of every frame in this film.rnSen. Laine Hanson is the contenderrnwhom President Jackson Evans has chosenrnto replace his recently deceased vicernpresident, (hi these roles, Joan Allen mistakesrnprimness for gravitas, while JeffrnBridges seems to think smarm is charm.)rnNo sooner does Evans announce hisrnchoice than a compromising photo surfaces.rnA naked girl resembling the 19-rnyear-old Hanson seems to be servicingrnseveral frat boys simultaneously. Onrnprinciple, Hanson refuses to address thernensuing scandal: People’s sexual lives,rnshe argues, are private and therefore beyondrnpublic scrutiny. Only when a benightedrncongressman suggests the activityrnin the photo is deviant sex does thernprogressive senator permit herself torncomment. “Wlio says it’s deviant?” shernsnaps back. On matters of intimacy, thisrngal’s a trooper for tolerance.rnWell, what’s a president to do? Morernimportantly, what’s his Republican nemesisrnto do? This is Rep. Shelly Runyon,rnplayed by Gary Oldman, who does anrnuncannily accurate impression of a frustratedrniguana. Runyon, the pro-life antifeministrnchairing the confirmationrnhearings, won’t abide a woman vice president.rnSides chosen, the film begins. Atrnfirst, it promises to be a lively debate onrncurrent issues, but as the one-sided dialoguernkicks in, the audience is left nearlyrnnumbed by Lurie’s liberal hubris. JohnrnWayne displayed more evenhanded restraintrnin The Green Berets.rnOf all the telltale details, perhaps Hanson’srnvisit to her father is the most revealing.rnHaving accepted President Evans’rnoffer, she wants ex-governor Dad’s supportrnand advice. She arrives at his homernwith her darling six-year-old son andrnwaits on the sidelines as the old man finishesrnhis tennis workout. Coming off therncourt, he asks his grandson if he knowsrnhow to get topspin on a ball. “The babyrnJesus puts it there,” the lad chirps. Visiblyrnshaken by such loathsome superstition.rnGranddad asks the boy where hernheard such “stuff.” It was his teacher,rnMrs. Maloney. Turning to his daughter,rnhe growls, “I spent my career trying tornstrike that nonsense out of schools.” My,rnmy: a career spent stomping on the babyrnJesus. Well, he is for choice. But whatrnabout the equally baleful Santa and thernEaster Bunny? Surely, he should havernspent some time stuffing them into thernmemor)’ hole as well.rnLater, we discover that Hanson hasrncarried her father’s torch bravely forward.rnShe is known for her fierce commitmentrnto keeping Church and State hermeticallyrnsealed from one another. At the confirmationrnhearings, the ever-vindictivernRunyon quotes her as having once attackedrnthe specter of religion in publicrnlife by proclaiming that “We can’t have arnfair)’ tale running this nation.” Unfazed,rnshe responds with Glintonian aplomb.rnThe real issue, she lectures her inquisitor,rnis one of “tolerance.” She respects allrnbeliefs in their proper place. The soundrntrack swells with violins as she declaresrnher own personal convictions: “I stand forrnmaking it a federal crime to sell cigarettesrnto children. I stand for taking guns out ofrnevery house. I stand for a woman’s rightrnto choose.” She concludes, nodding demurelyrnto their surroundings in the Capitol,rn”I may be an atheist, but my church isrnthis building!” If only Jimmy Stewart andrnFrank Capra were still alive!rnIn another scene. President Evansrnehummily takes Hanson for a walk on therngrounds of the Wliite House. Since he isrnsmoking a cigar, he graciously offers herrnone. She obliges his generosity with anrnexperimental puff only to be reduced to arncoughing spasm. Evans apologizes withrna chuckle. “I should have told you, yourndon’t inhale them.” He then asks her,rnwith an unctuous smile that’s supposedrnto be disarming, to tell him the truthrnabout her alleged youthful indulgence inrnoral gratification. Wliat a charming conflationrnof President Clinton’s peccadilloesrn—all patentiy pardonable, of course.rnHanson really cannot complain aboutrnthe presidenf s double entendres and inquiringrnmind. She may or may not haverntried group sex when a coed, but now inrnher 40’s, she’s a lust}’ wench indeed, asrnwe discover when we first meet her,rnsprawled across her desk in her shadowyrnsenate office. A man stands before her,rnhis pants around his ankles and his shirttailsrnaflutter as he, shall we say, enjoysrncongress with her. Not to worry; thernlunk’s her husband. In a movie filledrnwith adoring references to Jack Kennedy,rnwe can be assured that Senator Hanson isrnmerely conducting government with thernold JFK vigor. Besides, isn’t it true that torngovern well one needs to be as sexuallyrnactive as possible? As she assures onerndoubtful congressman, “The one thingrnyou don’t want is a woman with her fingerrnon the button who isn’t getting laid.”rn(We’re left to assume she means the nuclearrnbutton.) If she’s right, then how dornwe explain Kennedy’s and Johnson’s warrnin Vietnam or Clinton’s actions towardrnKosovo and Iraq? Their vigor in officerndoes not seem to have tempered theirrnbutton fingers one wit.rnBesides being a slick piece of propagandarnfor the Clinton wing of thernDemoerafic Party, this film is a perfectrnbarometer of Hollywood’s political temperament.rnEverything you ever suspectedrnabout the ideological climate ofrnSouthern California is here, writ large. IfrnBill Clinton winds up in Los Angelesrnworking for his film-industry buddies, restrnassured that he’ll never be homesick.rnI’d love to describe ChristopherrnGuest’s Best in Show in extravagant detail.rnWere I to do so, however, I’d be trespassingrnunforgivably on your enjoyment.rnThis hilarious safire follows the fortunesrnof five couples who have entered theirrnpampered pooches into a tony dog show.rnDog breeders, of course, are a specialrnbreed themselves. Guest’s genius, however,rnis not to mock them for their devofion,rnbut to enlist their eccentricities in order tornportray a range of foibles all too commonrnto our general human condition.rnThe teaming of Catherine O’Hara andrnEugene Levy is especially inspired.rnO’Hara plays a blowsy woman whose sexualrnhistory would shame the Wife ofrnBath. Levy is her nerdish husband, arnman forever doomed to speechless embarrassmentrnby a steady parade of unseemlyrnrevelations from his wife’s activernpast. Vulgar, knockabout farce doesn’trnget any better than this.rnThe film is also remarkable for its completernlack of political correctness. It featuresrna number of hetero-, homo-, andrnotherwise confused sexuals. No proclivityrnis spared; only the dogs escape withrntheir dignity intact.rnI eagerly await the next Guest appearance,rncrn56/CHRONICLESrnrnrn