The Ides of March or: A Cautionary Tale About The Corruption in All Politics (Film Analysis)

Politics is harsh.  Politics is corrupt.  Politics is cutthroat.

Discounting the one percent of pure-hearted Mr. Smiths in the world, the chances that a politician has gotten their hands dirty somewhere along their run is almost certain.  The Ides of March is one of the many political-dramas that dives into the corrupt world of politics—yet it distinguishes itself among the crowd through a variety of unique and refreshing elements.

The Ides of March focuses on Stephen Meyers (Ryan Gosling), an up-and-coming junior campaign manager who has been making a name for himself within the political world.  Working alongside his senior campaign manager Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman), their goal is for Governor Mike Morris (George Clooney, who also directed the film) to win the Democratic presidential primary against his competitor Senator Ted Pullman (Michael Mantell) and his own campaign manager Tom Duffy (Paul Giamatti)—so Morris can run in the general election and become the next President of the United States.  

Immediately, what stands out about The Ides of March is the film’s impressive cast.  Ryan Gosling, George Clooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Paul Giamatti are all grade-A talent—rich in personality, sharp wit, and/or raw emotional potency—brought together in a political drama, a genre driven by personality, sharp wit, and raw emotional potency.  I could sit and watch these actors go at one another all day in such a subtly ruthless environment:

Tom: You know, I'm trying to remember if the Democrats have ever nominated an atheist before.

Paul: Well, we know they've nominated a jackass before.

Tom: Oh, must have been you that did that prep work, Stephen. Paul's not that clever.

Paul: You've always had the brain' stuff. But me, l've had the balls.

Tom: Well, it looks like you've got some brains now too. Be careful. I just might have to steal him from you (walks away).

Paul: Hm. What a prick.

Stephen is an interesting version of the young "pure-hearted" political advocate.  Stephen is quite aware that the world he's involved in is corrupt and rough and if he fails his job there may be no coming back for him.  As such, he is in it to win it and works intensely at making his candidate look as good as he can to the public, and his opposition as bad as he can—just teetering on the line of corruption.  Stephen’s passion and sharpness are showcased in full during the Ohio primary—a state win that can make or break Morris’ spot as the Democratic ticket to presidency.  When practicing Morris’ speech the night before a debate, Stephen makes sure the workers put risers under Morris’ podium under the pretense he’s hard of seeing:

Intern: Didn't know the governor had trouble reading his notes. Why isn't he wearing glasses?

Stephen: No, he doesn't. Just Pullman is 5'8". He's gonna look like a hobbit.

Stephen has his interns get rid of a broadcasted speech Morris made before announcing his candidacy where he discusses pacifistic ideals in handling their enemies; “[This is] something the Republicans could easily use to detract fence-sitting voters from Morris if he makes it to the general election. We don't need to brag about it. ‘I'm Neville Chamberlain. I'd like to be your commander in chief.’”  Stephen even plans to have Morris ask Pullman about the latter possibly having investments in a diamond mine in Liberia—something most likely untrue, yet usable in placing doubt within the more easily-swayed voters:

Stephen: You think there's any truth in this Pullman having investments in a diamond mine in Liberia?

Intern: Still checking on it, but we got it from a blog...

Stephen:...I don't care if it's true. I just wanna hear him denying it. If it is true, great. Find out. But if not, let them spend the day telling the Post that he doesn't own a diamond mine in Liberia. Win-win.

Stephen understands how the game works, yet his persona is not without some youthful pure-hearted belief in the democratic system; “I'll do or say anything if l believe in it. But I have to believe in the cause.”  Stephen truly believes that Morris is the real deal—the ideal politician that will actually make a positive difference in the people’s lives—something New York Times reporter Ida Horowicz (Marisa Tomei) doesn't buy into for one second; “Mike Morris is a politician. He's a nice guy. They're all nice guys. He will let you down, sooner or later.”  Yet the film leads its audience to sway towards Stephen’s view of Governor Morris.  

Morris possesses incredible charisma not just in the public eye, but in private as well.  Stephen and Paul discuss with Morris the idea of offering Senator Frank Thompson (Jeffrey Wright)—a corrupt official whom Morris thinks low of—the position of Secretary of State in exchange for an endorsement that would ultimately win them the primary.  Yet Morris rejects the idea on pure principle, stating how he wants a clean campaign and that they must find another way to win.  Another scene shows Morris and his wife Cindy (Jennifer Ehle) in the personal safety of his car.  It's a genuinely sweet scene where Morris doubles down on his belief of not endorsing Thompson and has some loving, down-to-Earth banter with his wife:

Cindy: I was hit up by Mitchell's wife for you to show up at her Daughters of the American Revolution luncheon.

Morris: Who's Mitchell?

Cindy: Congressman from the First District? You might wanna remember that...Do you think we'll lose Ohio?

Morris: I don't know.

Cindy: If you took Thompson's delegates, the race would be over. Ohio wouldn't matter.

Morris: Is Paul working on you?

Cindy: Stephen.

Morris: They are good.

Cindy: Is Thompson so bad?

Morris: He's a s***. Every time I draw a line in the sand and then I ... I move it. Fundraisers, union deals, I wasn't gonna do any of it. Negative ads. I can't on this one. Not Thompson... Tell Mrs. Mitchell I'll make her goddamn luncheon. Let the old ladies pat me on the head.

Cindy: You've got great hair.

Morris: You too, baby.

Such showcasing of dignity, affection, and charisma (amplified by George Clooney's typical charismatic performance) leads the audience into partaking in Stephen’s drinking of the Kool-Aid.  Not only does Stephen consider Morris the politician that can actually fix the country, but also considers him his genuine friend—smiling behind the curtains as Morris gives public television discussions.  And yet, there is another side to Stephen buried but not sealed under his loyalty and trust: his ambitious side.  When Stephen is suddenly called up by Tom Duffy, asking him to come talk in secret, Stephen goes after a little hesitation.  It's obvious what Tom wants, and he comes right out and asked Stephen to join Pullman's campaign.  Tom reveals his cards to Stephen, how they already offered Thompson the position and will ultimately win the election and tells Stephen to join the winning side.  Stephen rejects the offer, yet the damage has already been done—the flattery of being wanted by both sides ends up being his undoing and Tom’s key to victory.

Genuinely worried by Tom’s game plan, Stephen admits to Paul that they met up and the opposing side’s scheme.  Stephen apologizes for his mistake, yet paranoid Paul—who finds trust to be the only valuable currency in the political world—ultimately can't trust him anymore and lets Stephen go, a firing Governor Morris agrees with.  This was all part of Tom plan—a shot in the dark, last-ditch effort to eliminate the one thing that could help Morris win the election:

Stephen: You knew I was gonna f***ing tell Paul, didn't you?

Tom: No, I didn't know. I thought you might, but I didn't know...that's the thing about Paul. He's big on loyalty...

Stephen: ...You were never gonna hire me.

Tom: Put yourself in my shoes, Steve. Your opponent has the best media mind in the country working for his team. What are you gonna do? You're either gonna hire him for yourself, or you're gonna work it so if you can't have him, the other team can't either. This is a win-win situation for me. You come work for me, great. Paul doesn't have you. Then again, Paul fires you, I don't want you, fine. Paul still doesn't have you. Either way, I win. And the moment l got you to sit down in that chair... I knew I'd won.

Yet all this is simply a piece to the chaos that throws Stephen’s life into disarray.  During the campaign’s time in Ohio, Stephen forms a secret relationship with a young female intern named Molly Steams (Evan Rachel Wood).  One night, Stephen accidentally answers Molly's phone—mistaking it for his—and finds Governor Morris on the other side, the latter immediately hanging up.  Stephen quickly puts the pieces together as Molly timidly reveals she had a one-night affair with the Governor and is now pregnant with his child.  Stephen’s faith and trust in Morris begins to crumble, yet he continues his duties to the campaign by getting the money Molly needs for an abortion (who cannot go to her parents with her father being a well-known Christian politician) and telling her that she can no longer be a part of the campaign:

Stephen: Because you f***ed up. 

Molly: He and l both f***ed up.

Stephen: That's true. But I have a responsibility to him and, more importantly, I have a responsibility

to this campaign... This is the big leagues. lt's mean. When you make a mistake, you lose the right to play.

Of course, Stephen gets a taste of his own medicine when Paul and Morris fire him.  When Molly hears about the firing, she realizes Stephen may very well use such information to get back at the campaign.  Unfortunately, she’s absolutely correct when Stephen—fueled by anger and feelings of betrayal, forgoing all concern empathy for how this could affect Molly—tries using the information as incentive for Tom to hire him.  Tom ultimately denies the deal, yet Molly has no way of knowing this and, with nowhere to run or hide, becomes understandably terrified.  

There’s a heartbreaking segment where Stephen goes to check up on Molly and finds her corpse, having overdosed on pills and alcohol.  Stephen checks his phone to find multiple voice messages from Molly close to her death; "Stephen, um, l just heard from Ben. Please don't do anything f***ed up... Goddamn it, you motherf***er, pick up the phone. Don't do this. ...l'm not going away."  The tragedy, beyond the obvious, is that Stephen genuinely did care for Molly—as seen when he nearly breaks into tears while listening to the voice messages—it's just that his ambition and anger overcame such affection.

With Molly’s death, Stephen fully succumbs to his ambitious side and goes full corrupt—blackmailing and outplaying Governor Morris with threats of a theoretical note that Molly left behind, explaining their affair and her pregnancy.  Morris concedes to Stephen’s demands, firing Paul, making Stephen his head campaign manager, and bribing an endorsement from Senator Thompson—effectively making him the de facto Democratic nominee.  Whereas the film’s first third showcases Governor Morris at his most positive, the last third shows him at his worst.  We see him lie and play the grieving man towards Molly’s death, selling lies left and right to avoid scrutiny; “We're in a state of shock. We send our condolences to Jack and Joanna Stearns and their entire family… What we know right now is that it appears to have been a drug—an accidental prescription overdose… We have no reason to believe [it was suicide]… We just wanted to say that our hearts go out, our prayers go out, to the entire family. She really is—She was part of our family. [I did not know her] well, but l did know her. And what l saw was a hard-working young woman with a great spirit.”

Soon enough, another female intern is hired to replace Molly as if nothing happened, and Stephen goes on television to discuss being Morris’ new head campaign manager.  The audience hears Morris giving a speech about the importance of dignity and integrity as Stephen is asked to recount how the primary unfolded.  It strikes me that Stephen could very well spill all the beans here and now—being a long, elaborate plan at vengeance by publicly revealing all of Morris’ dark secrets.   The ending’s ambiguity certainly makes it a possible interpretation—that there’s still some Mr. Smith left in Stephen—but I am doubtful of such outcome.  By this point, Stephen seems to have fully accepted and embraced the corruption within politics and disposed of his pure-hearted belief in the democratic system in exchange for something far easier, ambitious, and self-centered—the true aspects that make up corrupt capitalism.

Hollywood has a habit of showing bias towards a particular side of the political spectrum.  Warren Beatty was lowkey blacklisted for his political satire Bulworth that openly criticized all political parties, while the adaptation of the Roman à clef story on Bill Clinton's presidential campaign Primary Colors—which highlight several questionable aspects to the campaign—altered the book's ambiguous ending by having its protagonist ultimately show support for the presidential candidate (both films interestingly came out in 1998).  

The Ides of March, however, not only focuses on corruption within the Democratic Party but also ends on a far more ominous note.  Yet the idea is not to sully the Democratic Party so that the Republicans look good (the film makes sure to criticize them in spirit as well), but to offer a cautionary tale regarding politics (similar to Bulworth): no matter what side and/or party you support, there will always be corruption.  Just because they’re on your party's side, doesn’t automatically make them good.  Be cautious, do your research, and don’t be swayed by mere compelling words and promises before voting. In this trying time of politics, such cautionary messages have never been more vital.