Ahead of The Apprentice's Toronto critics screening, director Ali Abbasi told the room full of critics that he would be returning after the film was shown to do a reverse Q&A — he wanted to know our thoughts on the film, and the first question he posed was, is the movie fair to Donald Trump?
Given the legal issues surrounding the movie's release when it first premiered at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year (which didn't go anywhere), Abbasi's question isn't out of place, although it's certainly an odd one. The question struck a particular chord, as the biggest question on my mind going into the movie was: will this movie humanize Trump to the point of eliciting sympathy?
The answer to both of these questions is neither yes nor no; rather, a little bit of both and something in between.
The Apprentice begins with a young Donald Trump (Sebastian Stan) working for his father, Fred (Martin Donovan), in the 1970s banging on doors to collect rent from the low-income tenants of Trump Village in Coney Island, receiving partial payments at the best of times and a pot of boiling water thrown at him at the worst. The beginning of The Apprentice paints Donald as an outsider — a borderline-naïve 20-something who wants nothing more than to be within the inner circle of New York City's elite.
Throughout the film, Abbasi attempts to take an apolitical stance on Trump — hence, his question during TIFF — that for the most part, he succeeds in doing. Notwithstanding other people asking the Donald if he wants to join the political arena in the future, there's not much by way of actual politics in the movie itself. The Apprentice stands as a character study of one of the most polarizing figures of the 21st century, and, in this way, Abbasi finds the humanity in Trump.
Almost everyone can relate to being an outsider, not living up to their parents' expectations, and the desire to achieve more in life. Taking Trump in a vacuum during the '70s, this is exactly who he was — just a young man trying to find his way in a city that takes no prisoners. Where The Apprentice stops short of finding sympathy for him is in how the events unfold after Trump finds success.
While most dismisses young Donnie, lawyer Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong) sees something in him and takes him under his wing, sharing with him the art of the lawsuit. But as Trump's stock rises, we see how fickle his loyalties are, even to the only person who believed in him. We also get a glimpse into his personal life through his marriage to Ivana (Maria Bakalova), which begins with true love and respect and eventually devolves into Donald violently raping Ivana in the foyer of their home.
The back half of The Apprentice makes clear that, regardless of the struggles Donald went through in his youth, power emphasized qualities in him that always existed to create a monstrous individual willing to do anything it takes to "win," whatever that means.
Written by Gabriel Sherman, The Apprentice plays entirely to our current knowledge of Trump, scattering multiple moments where Donald modestly brushes off political aspirations and makes off-colour remarks throughout the film. Stan contributes to this endeavour in a brilliant performance that subtly introduces some of Trump's more caricatured traits early on that crescendo as the film progresses, including him pursing his lips and making pointed hand movements. For a man that has been impersonated by every late-night host, comedian and average Joe, Stan turns in an impressively restrained depiction.
Conversely, Strong's performance as Roy Cohn brings to light a person not nearly as well known to history, and who, by most accounts, was not a nice or morally concerned man. Abassi and writer Gabriel Sherman do find compassion for Cohn as someone who struggled with his sexuality in an aggressively homophobic world and eventually died from complications from AIDS, all while denying he was HIV-positive. Strong digs into Cohn's nuances with the precision of a surgeon and artistry of a sculptor; it's a remarkable performance that stands out from a truly exemplary ensemble.
The Apprentice ends with Trump hiring Tony Schwartz to write the 1987 memoir-cum-business-advice book, Trump: The Art of the Deal. At this point, Trump exhibits all the pomposity, greed and audacity that many have come to recognize in the former president and current Republican presidential nominee. Abassi ends his film knowing that his audiences can fill in the conclusion for ourselves.
Abassi and Sherman apply very little analysis to Trump's arc as a person. Viewers aren't given much by way of an explanation or a psychological dive into why Trump is the way he is; rather, we're simply told this is how his life went, presumably leaving it up to ourselves to decide how A turns to B.
From a purely cinematic perspective, The Apprentice finds its way with tremendous actors who each strike the balance between entertainment, artistry and restraint. From a political standpoint, ardent left and right wingers will most likely take issue with this film in some respect, which only crystallizes Abassi's apolitical intentions. Audiences will see what they want to see in a film like this, and depending on the point of view, this can either be dangerous or emboldening.