Stone-walled

I don't envy Oliver Stone and his task, in "W.," of coming up with something novel to say about George W. Bush.

After eight years of daily hyper-analysis by the 24-hour media, compounded by the endless chewing and regurgitation of yesterday's news by bloggers, I'd have been shocked if Stone had come up with anything original, be it in the realm of persona, psychology or politics.

Part of this is plain old Bush fatigue, part of it is a lack of confidence in Stone - if this guy couldn't come up with anything interesting to say about Alexander the Great, how is he likely to fair with W.?

"W." is not brimming with insight. Stone's main idea, not exactly new, is that W. has daddy issues, and spent his adult life torn between conflicting desires to rebel and to gain favor.

Stone underscores this with images that depict W. as a perpetual boy, over-matched in a man's world. He returns frequently to a shot of W. in a ball cap and a glove, waiting for a fly ball that never comes.

We see W. curled up in bed in his tighty whities, mewling about his problems to Laura (Elizabeth Banks), who's less a wife to him than a mother (to make up for implied lack of love he received from mom Barbara [Ellen Burstyn], depicted here as something that rhymes with witch). It's interesting that W.'s kids are frequently mentioned but never seen - this would run counter to Stone's boy king theme.

Lacking the substance of insight, Stone turns to satire. Josh Brolin delivers an impersonation of W. that's often funny, the way Tina Fey's impersonation of Palin is funny, but it's not the stuff of dramatic characterization.

Stone doesn't help matters - he distorts Brolin with lenses and filters, and undercuts the performance with a soundtrack full of mocking pop tunes and sarcastic musical references.

The rest of the cast struggles to break through Stone's instinct for caricature. Jeffrey Wright as a malcontented Colin Powell spars with Richard Dreyfuss as a malevolent Dick Cheney, and they produce some meaty moments. Still, you're never convinced you're watching anything other than Dreyfuss doing an imitation of Cheney. James Cromwell is granted some dignity as W.'s father before being hung out to dry in a cheap dream sequence.

Stone literally deflates Karl Rove by casting him with tiny Toby Jones, but worst treatment is accorded Condoleeza Wright (Thandie Newton), who is dismissed and demeaned in this movie. It reminds you that Stone has rarely taken women seriously.

There are people who fear a Sarah Palin presidency. Certainly movie-goers should, considering what Stone might do with it. *

Produced by Bill Block, Eric Kopeloff and Paul Hanson, directed by Oliver Stone, written by Stanley Weiser, music by Paul Cantelon, distributed by Lionsgate.