Charlie Wilson's War

“Charlie Wilson’s War”

USA. 2007. Directed by Mike Nichols. Screenplay by Aaron Sorkin. Based on the novel by George Crile. Starring: Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Ned Beatty, Terry Bozeman, Brian Markinson, Jud Tylor, Hilary Angelo, Cyia Batten, Kirby Mitchell, Emily Blunt and Peter Gerety.

Rating: ★★★

At a time when average citizens find it progressively hopeless to discuss the cause and effect of current American foreign policy, perhaps the approach of Mike Nichols’ Charlie Wilson’s War is the only way to keep people talking. Telling the true story of a behaviorally questionable Texan congressman with enough idealism and smarts to affect political change in the Cold War, the film thoughtfully convinces us of its seemingly unbelievable tale while gliding as lightly as its hero does through an unknown slice of political history. It is shocking that it remained unknown for so long because the direct and crucial effect was no less than the retreat of the Soviets from Afghanistan.

The movie stars Tom Hanks as Charlie Wilson, a Texas congressman who is hardly a role model as he hangs out with strippers, snorts coke and drinks too much in his spare time. He is far from ignorant of world affairs, however, as we see him in the beginning intently listening to Dan Rather reporting on the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1980, much to the chagrin of the strippers in the bathtub with him. And as the story progresses, we gradually see that his interest is not without idealism.

He first meets a rich, devout, right-wing socialite and former TV-show hostess, Joanne Herring (Julia Roberts), who is not shy to share her hatred of the communists and how she is repelled by the atrocities of the Soviets towards Afghanistan. She has her plan carved out for him: to provide the Afghans with the arms to defend themselves by shooting down Soviet helicopters. It is not just any way, but, knowing the American government could not fathom the possibility of lending their own weapons to the Afghan citizens, her suggestion is to negotiate a deal between the Israelis who secretly have numerous Soviet RPGs and Pakistan, where many Afghan refugees flood over to across the border to escape.

Charlie is certainly at a good position to do this being on the Defense Appropriations Committee, but is completely floored by this idea. His mind soon sways, however, after an arranged meeting with President Zia of Pakistan and a tour through a camp of displaced refugees including many children with arms and limbs missing. He, along with his assistant, Bonnie Bach (Amy Adams), looks for a CIA operative to give him the mechanical details of the situation.

Enter the scene-stealer of the movie, the almost unrecognizable Phillip Seymour Hoffman as disgruntled CIA operative, Gust Avrakotos. His first entrance into the story is pure dynamite as he erupts in front of a superior about an assignment he believes he deserved and did not get presumably due to his chubby, mousy appearance, and he breaks the window of his office to spite him. Later, when Charlie finally taps on him as his CIA man and brings him into his office, there is a great moment when Charlie’s attempt to conceal a scandal is to no avail when it turns out the sneaky Gust has hidden a bug on his specially delivered scotch.

From then on, we see Charlie using his diplomatic shrewdness to negotiate the deal to have an Israeli arms dealer sell the weapons through the back-door of Pakistan to the Afghans. That even includes the perplexing tactic of recruiting a Texas belly-dancer to perform in front of a diplomatic exchange in Cairo. Sounds highly unlikely but Aaron Sorkin’s trademark smooth and savvy dialogue adapted from George Crile's source novel makes it all entirely believable.

There is inescapably a darker implication in all this for us knowing more than what the characters in this movie do. At the time, Wilson could not have known that the supply of weapons would not only give them the means to defend themselves but that the newly armed resistance fighters would no doubt become a part of the Taliban. It is doubly ironic that a seemingly noble act at the time would bite the country in the butt in unexpectedly tragic ways and that the very same weapons were later likely fired at American helicopters. The saddening realization we gather is how war is a continuous cycle for which there is no start or end point that any government in the present can plan for and avoid inadvertent repercussions.

Fans of The West Wing series and The American President already know Sorkin’s unique gift for creating gentle, palatable launching points for serious political discussions and director Mike Nichols maintains clarity in sorting through the bewildering maze of political negotiations and tactics while keeping a sly undercurrent of humor flickering beneath. He does hurt Hanks’ chance to play a truly different, slimier kind of role because he glosses over his more serious flaws like drunk-driving and plays his womanizing behavior including his staff all being buxom young women purely for laughs. But he has the crisp ear for dialogue all the way back from his stage directing days and to make it fluid and invisibly flowing through.

And the actors all play well with the dialogue’s rhythm. Sorkin’s screenplays are always filled with two-hander verbal sparring and Hoffman’s volatile delivery provides a great foil for Hanks’ smooth, conman-like qualities. Adams and Roberts are also strong as the innocent and sassy counterpoints, respectively, to the genial antihero.

Charlie Wilson’s War belongs in the category of films like Catch Me If You Can (where Hanks played the hero’s pursuer) telling stories that would only be worth sharing because they’re actually true. Sure, there could have been a tougher film to be made about the subject but it is probably a wiser method in this current political climate to deliver its insights more lightheartedly. It is also emblematic of the very carefree and intelligent nature with which Wilson somehow won this important shadow war all by himself.