This is an intensely
political year, and so I chose to catch up with a 1972 film that American
political junkies often reference. At a time when Richard Nixon was winning re--election,
The Candidate focused on a fictional California race for the U.S.
Senate, one that seemed to reward the value of style over substance, suggesting
the evolution of politics into a beauty contest in which the best-looking
candidate wins. And they don’t get much better looking than the young Robert
Redford, who was the film’s star.
Coincidentally, Redford came
close to winning the title role in 1967’s The Graduate, in which
“plastics” stood in for all that was crass in the modern world. Plastics in The
Graduate was something that recent big-man-on-campus Benjamin Braddock was
determined to resist in his adult life. In The Candidate, Redford plays
Bill McKay, an idealistic young California activist with cover-boy looks. When
the film opens, he has absolutely no use for political game-playing; obviously this
is a reaction against his father (Melvyn Douglas), a seasoned political pro who
was once the governor of the state. Because the Republican incumbent, Senator
Crocker Jarmon, seems to have a lock on the upcoming election, the Democratic
party hack played by Peter Boyle only needs to find a patsy to be Jarmon’s
token opponent. He persuades Bill to run by pledging he’ll have full
independence to state his own views.
But wait! Bill captures the
public’s fancy, and soon Boyle’s character is reshaping him into a bland but
attractive golden-boy who can steal the Senate seat from the ageing silver fox
currently holding the office. It’s made clear, especially in a televised debate
scene, that neither of them is going to go beyond platitudes and nice-sounding
slogans. At times Bill fights against his makeover (which includes a trendy new
haircut and wardrobe), but everyone, including his loving wife, is soon
pressuring him to play the game. He reluctantly accepts his father’s
involvement, though he cringes at Dad’s proud acknowledgment that he’s become a
politician.
In an age when the
differences between Democrats and Republicans are marked by deliberately
divisive rhetoric, it’s fascinating to recognize that there was a time, among
national political candidates, when
bland was beautiful, when the whole point of campaigning was to bank on
personal appeal. It often worked: an acquaintance of my mother was a big
supporter of Vice-Presidential candidate Dan Quayle because she found him
“cute.” Good looks and personal magnetism are still, of course, highly useful in
politics. But what’s striking about The Candidate is that neither man
dares to really express an opinion. After seeing the film, I checked on the
actual U.S. Senators who represented California in the 1960s and 1970s,
discovering that most of them were an undistinguished lot. Though the serious
and hard-working Alan Cranston held one of the California seats from 1969 to
1993, the other passed through the hands of Pierre Salinger (JFK’s former press
secretary, who served less than a year), George Murphy (a Hollywood
song-and-dance man), John Tunney (a young lawyer with Ivy League cred), and
S.I. Hayakawa (a noted linguist and university president who entered the Senate
at age 71). Hayakawa, who was embraced by conservatives after he came down hard
on student protestors at San Francisco State, is best remembered for dozing off
during Senate hearings.
It’s Tunney who comes closest to Redford’s character. The son of champion heavyweight boxer Gene Tunney, he
was propelled into politics by name recognition, a Ted Kennedy link (they were
law-school roommates), and clean-cut youthful good looks. What did he
accomplish? Not much.
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