Ali Abbasi’s cinematic offering, The Apprentice, unravels with a chilling, vivid intensity. The film immerses its audience into the shadowy, tumultuous inception of Donald Trump’s public persona. It’s not merely a recounting of familiar scandals and controversies that have dominated headlines; rather, The Apprentice seeks to navigate the depths of how power can corrupt those who are already predisposed to grift and greed. This story illustrates the alarming journey of one man, molded through the mentorship of another, spiraling into what the world has come to recognize as a moral chasm.
Sebastian Stan faces the formidable challenge of portraying a youthful Donald Trump. His performance hinges on capturing the essence of Trump before the era of campaign spectacles and social media outbursts. Stan employs an exaggerated, cartoon-like demeanor, embodying the affectations and peculiar mannerisms—pouting lips, the distinctive gesticulations, and that unforgettable smirk. Yet, it is in depicting Trump’s emotional evolution that Stan excels, drawing viewers into the psyche of a man who, from an early stage, understood he could—but hadn’t yet decided how to—shape his identity through any conceivable means. This emerging figure casts a long shadow over America’s political landscape, one that will be discussed for years to come.
At the film’s core lies Trump’s intricate relationship with the notorious lawyer Roy Cohn, portrayed with chillingly sinister finesse by Jeremy Strong. Cohn once played a pivotal role in sentencing Ethel and Julius Rosenberg to their deaths in the electric chair, and in The Apprentice, he emerges as the orchestrator behind Trump’s nascent dark ambitions. Strong’s performance filters Cohn’s essence through a veneered exterior of reptilian calculation and acidic prejudice, particularly against homosexuals. In Trump, Cohn finds a malleable protégé, another kindred soul capable of deploying deception and manipulation to achieve success while being void of internal resistance to ethical decency.
The Apprentice, under the guise of a political biopic, subtly reveals an unsettling depiction of this twisted mentor-protégé dynamic. Abbasi’s directorial prowess colors the portrayal of a bond that is disturbingly intimate. The interplay between Trump and Cohn skates on the edges of perverse endearment, capturing an unspoken yet electric acknowledgement of their shared decadence. Their alliance is one where loyalty is measured by the breadth of ethical decay one is willing to endure.
This partnership is peppered with strategically crafted scenes that weave whispering plots and conjure plans, infused with an unnerving camaraderie. Their conversations vibrate with the tension reminiscent of Faustian tragedy—before the protagonist fully comprehends the damning breadth of his dealings. There exists an underlying erotic tension within their exchanges, not overt but lingering in every glance and quip. This sensual threading lends an eerie intensity to their unsavory union.
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Performance stands foremost in the film’s triumph. Strong’s Cohn epitomizes cynical manipulation, with an image cloaked in smooth deceit—a mirror of the turbulent, rancorous contempt roiling within. Watching Cohn effortlessly pull strings and maneuver Trump reveals an unsettling foresight, as prophetic as it is distressing. Conversely, Stan’s portrayal avoids caricatured blunders, rendering Trump’s early stumbles almost—and only almost—sympathetic. Nevertheless, a flicker of ruthless self-interest promptly reminds the audience of the looming dread Trump represents.
Abbasi’s knack for dark storytelling comes to the fore, echoing his work in Holy Spider, by underscoring the unease seeping through The Apprentice. New York City during the 1970s unfurls on screen as a tapestry of glitzy decay—a playground for opportunists like Trump, eager to leverage its decaying grandeur for personal gain. Cinematographer Kasper Tuxen captures the city as an entity of both dazzle and decline, mirroring the internal degradation of its central characters.
The screenplay finds moments to inject sardonic wit, provoking laughter that is reluctant and reserved—a tense gallows humor. Trump’s fretful contemplation of his hair or Cohn’s sartorial critic about his protégé’s physique inject darkly comedic ripples. These brief jests serve to underscore the grotesque metamorphosis unfolding, building a persona built on infallibility despite underlying deceit. Abbasi skillfully balances these moments, guiding the laughter to turn abruptly into chilling reminders of the central figure’s reality.
Yet, in its final act, The Apprentice stumbles slightly, veering towards sensationalism. A notably publicized scene illustrating a sexual assault involving Trump and his first wife, Ivana (played by Maria Bakalova), disrupts the finely woven psychological tapestry that Abbasi had been crafting thus far.
Ultimately, while heavily laced with macabre humor, The Apprentice aspires beyond a simple biography of a controversial figure. It delves into the contrived creation of a relentless narrative—the fabrication of Trump as an incontestable success story. Unlike traditional tales of rise and fall, Abbasi asserts that Trump’s story was always one of continuous ascent, not due to lack of failings but because these acts were broadcast in real-time, with no intervention. Guided by the compelling performances of Stan and Strong, Abbasi crafts an indelible commentary on the all-American nightmare that shapes contemporary discourse. This unveilings offer a potent examination of the forces propelling us towards this precipice, leaving a haunting imprint long after the credits roll.
Originally penned to grace theatres today, The Apprentice’s Indian release has seen a postponement following a special premiere that left audiences reeling—uncensored and uncut.
