Election is an uncomfortable movie. Alexander Payne’s adaptation of Tom Perrotta's satirical novel is a take-no-prisoners comedy, a scathing collision of personality, sex, ambition and ethics in a Nebraska high school. Few of its characters come away smelling like roses; indeed, most of them had the scent of fertilizer on them from the start. It’s a great movie, yes, but like much of Payne’s filmography, it’s also prickly and caustic.
I first saw Election upon its theatrical release 25 years ago, and left amused but frustrated. I went in knowing it was a satire inspired, in part, by the 1996 presidential election, when Ross Perot complicated what was usually a strict two-party affair. I left confused because while I could see broad allegory in what Payne was doing, I couldn’t see any concrete parallels to that; I assumed the wit had been replaced by sex jokes and horrible behavior, although I thought Matthew Broderick was funny as put-upon teacher Jim McCallister.
It was the classic case of, at 19, not being evolved enough in my movie love or grasp of the world at large to understand that Election was not simply a political satire or allegory of our current climate, but a nuanced, deeply funny and pitch-black satire about personality politics, ethics and hypocrisy, and the consequences of our own actions, all played out on a stage usually equated with earnestness and ambition.
The casting of Matthew Broderick as Jim McCallister is inspired. The actor is, of course, best known as the charismatic, lovable Ferris Bueller, the high school senior who never met a teacher he couldn’t manipulate or a student he couldn’t charm. Broderick’s career has largely considered of playing anti-Ferrises, neurotic and reserved men. But McCallister is different.
Jim McCallister is, on the surface, another milquetoast man. But really, he’s what Ferris might have become after years of career disillusionment and the ability to get away with his schemes. As the film begins, McCallister seems like a good guy; he has a strong marriage, loves his job and seems to be liked by his students. But as the film goes on, we realize that his decency is hanging by a thread; he’s sexually frustrated, possibly not as fulfilled at his job as he says, and then there’s Tracy Flick.
Ah yes, Tracy Flick. The pinnacle of Reese Witherspoon’s career. An ambitious, focused and determined student who sees her role as class president as destiny. She’s the type of student who is so eager and prepared that she makes teachers groan. She speaks of making a better school for her fellow students, but it’s apparent via the way Payne stages her speeches that those classmates are just a means to an end for Tracy. She knows she is meant for greatness; she will obtain what’s hers no matter the cost.
Despite her outward appearance as a star pupil, McCallister has had enough of Tracy Flick. It doesn’t help that, in addition to her role as teacher’s pet, she also caused the dissolution of his co-worker’s marriage. Was it the case of an older man taking advantage of a younger woman, or was Tracy aware of what she was doing? Was McCallister’s friend a predator or was it, as Tracy suggests, an innocent fling that he took too seriously?
Payne deals with this situation with nuance and complexity; neither McCallister nor Tracy are painted completely as heroes or villains. Each has their reasons for behaving the way they do. For Tracy, she is fulfilling the culmination of her dreams, a life her mother has planned out for her. She sees herself as a mature, good-hearted person who found an older man who loved her. For Jim, he sees Tracy as a conniving vixen steamrolling her way to success and whose ascendancy seems unstoppable until he has the idea to have the earnest but dunderheaded Paul Metzler (Chris Klein) oppose her.
But McCallister and Tracy are also unreliable narrators, and either lack the self-awareness to see their own tendencies or are trying to sway us to their side. Tracy speaks of the goodness of her intentions and the path her mother has set her on; we see the stubbornness on her face, the burden piled on her by a mother who never achieved her own dreams, the machinations of a predatory teacher. Jim speaks of ethics, choice and how he “stumbles” into an affair. We see the temptation of spending time with Tracy (Payne’s use of close-ups on Witherspoon’s lips is fantastic) as his thoughts lead him into the basement to his porno stash. We see the frustration he has in the bedroom with his wife, the way he ogles Linda (Delaney Driscoll) and the way he tries to manipulate himself into her bed while convincing us he’s the good guy.
Both actors are fantastic. Broderick’s character is a curdled Ferris, manipulating the audience and trying to work things in his favor even as they spiral out of control. His attempts to keep plates spinning even as disaster looms and spends much of the film in a desperate, sweaty panic; near the end of the film, as Jim nurses a bee sting and watches his marriage and career fall apart, it’s no mere coincidence that he reminds us more of Edward Rooney, the disciplinarian tracking Ferris throughout his movie.
Witherspoon is steely resolve and petulance; I can’t say I’ve ever seen another movie in which baking cupcakes and filling a bowl with gum have such strategic power. She’s smart, she’s dedicated and she knows it. When she prays, she’s not asking God for help; she’s reminding him of the deal the universe has set up for her. But her determination is also keeping at bay an insecurity and fear that occasionally bleeds through; we see it most clearly in the scene where Tracy, trying to fix an off-center campaign banner, is suddenly reminded that she actually has a competitor and tears down every one of Paul’s posters.
Payne’s a director I struggle with; his cynicism often gets the best of him and I find even his films that are admirably made hard to enjoy (last year’s The Holdovers was an exception). But with Election, he’s focused and dangerous like he’s rarely been since. The film is harsh and scathing, unafraid to make its protagonists unlikable and harsh.
But it’s not in the interest of being mean; Payne’s dealing with complex characters, and he lets the consequences of their misguided ethics and intentions play out. “What’s the difference between morals and ethics?” McCallister asks his class near the start of the film; the entire movie is about that question. Do the ends justify the means? What are the consequences of our actions, and what do they say about us? Who really wins in the end? Payne tells the story with wit and humor, and a keen directorial eye; the script is razor sharp and his compositions are striking (the motif with apples every time disaster falls gives the film a subtle theological kick).
Every character is perfectly created and played, complex and multifaceted. Chris Klein has never been better than in his debut as Paul Metzler, maybe the only likable and innocent person in the entire film, a babe in the woods roped into running when McCallister decides Flick needs to be stopped. Paul is the type of personality we hope would run for office; he’s kind, compassionate and earnest, and unlike the monologues we get from McCallister and Tracy, Paul seems to sincerely believe everything he says. But he’s also the last type of person who should run for office; he’s not smart or willing to play the political game. He even damns his own run by being too good-hearted to vote for himself.
And then there’s Jessica Campbell as Paul’s sister Tammy, who throws a major wrench into McCallister’s plan when she announces she’s running for president. She doesn’t want to win; she just wants to spite her brother, who she believes stole her girlfriend. Tammy is the cynical stand-in for the Gen X crowd at the time, the people who could get excited about not being excited. She doesn’t want to win; she wants to cause a mess and burn the whole system down, but ends up also finding a way to serve her own means in the end.
Election is more about ethics, choice and consequence than it is a straightforward allegory about modern politics. It’s about our weakness and motivations, which mostly center around sex. But the political connotations are also interesting. In 1999, this read as a slight parallel to the Bush/Clinton/Perot election. But the dynamic has replayed itself in nearly every election since.
The film explores the weird avenues of personality politics. It’s easy to dislike Tracy Flick because she’s abrasive, focused and determined. But she’s also the best candidate for the job. It’s easy to get behind a charismatic doofus like Paul, who we’d be more apt to have a beer with. It’s understandable to get so frustrated with the entire mess that we flock to renegades like Tammy who only want to further their own selfish agenda and reveal it all for the farce it is. In 2016, Tracy Flick ran for President of the United States and we instead elected someone with the brains of Paul and the mentality of Tammy.
Too on the nose? Just wait – sometime this year, Election will likely reveal a continued relevance as we approach November’s election. That’s the brilliance of this film: Because it’s rooted in human behavior, the satire will never ring false. This is Alexander Payne’s masterpiece and one of the best films from 1999.