Shocking Truth Unveiled: ‘Reagan’ – The 40th President’s Controversial Biopic Full of Lies!

Political adulation is one thing, but the deification disguised as a film in Sean McNamara’s religiously tinted bio-epic “Reagan” is another. The movie trails its protagonist, portrayed by Dennis Quaid, from his early days in Hollywood to his two-term tenure as the 40th president of the United States.

Quaid is a consistently robust performer deserving of substantial roles. However, in this film, he merely serves as a mimicking marionette, a bright exterior concealing an empty portrayal designed for religious conservatives with a shallow understanding of history and no room for subtleties. If you can imagine someone observing the iconic “Saturday Night Live” bit featuring Phil Hartman’s depiction of Reagan as a geopolitical genius disguised as a clumsy optimist and accepting it as truth, you’ll have a sense of how “Reagan” is presented.

That infamous comedy sketch played on widespread doubts that our affable president feigned ignorance about the Iran-Contra scandal, hence its amusing portrayal of Reagan as a criminal mastermind. Here, though, with every clumsily executed scene of heroism steeped in myth, McNamara and screenwriter Howard Klausner strive for adulation for the Man Who Ended Communism: the man who had the communists in his crosshairs for decades; the genuine smile that concealed a fierce warrior; the Christian whose flawless long game — from star to Screen Actors Guild leader to FBI informant to governor to world leader making charming wisecracks — ultimately toppled the godless Soviet Union.

This conveniently selective determinism — ignoring Russia’s self-destruction, the willpower of oppressed individuals in other nations, and how Reagan fractured his own country — is historical nonsense, made even more peculiar by the movie’s modern narrative tool: an aged Soviet spy named Viktor (Jon Voight) reminiscing. To a naive young Russian agent, he recounts the tale of his rival the Crusader — also the title of the adulatory Reagan biography the film is based on — with a sinister admiration. Viktor had always known that this American was the sole genuine threat the West ever created.

It’s a tale of a hero confronting Hollywood Communists, teaching 1960s campus activists a lesson or two, and bringing a brutal superpower to its knees with only a few sentences. Yet it’s also a story of doing TV commercials in the ’50s, wooing an actress (the unfortunate Penelope Ann Miller as Nancy), and purchasing a ranch in Santa Ynez. Certainly peculiar subjects for a pair of Russian spies. Choose your framing devices wisely, budding screenwriters.

With its contrived epic scale, laughable dialogue, and lack of interest in introspection, “Reagan” is such a frantic, poorly constructed chronology of significant events and notable omissions that when the pace slows slightly for the Gorbachev (Olek Krupa) discussions, you yearn for a more intelligent, more nuanced film about the Cold War’s conclusion that this version — centered around binary moments equating to “He can’t!” “But he did!” — refuses to even contemplate.

McNamara misses no chance to erase any fault, for whom the AIDS crisis is only worth bundling into a montage mimicking an ’80s music video of irritating, context-less complaints that (oh no!) might jeopardize Reagan’s chances of re-election, which, as portrayed here, shockingly, are uncertain. “Let Ronnie be Ronnie!” Nancy shouts to her husband’s campaign team. One commendable quip later at the Mondale debate, he secures 49 states. What a turnaround! Viktor seems particularly disheartened. No mention of how a devastated LGBTQ community may have felt.

That sickeningly glossy finish extends even beyond the credits, when it follows up on a detail from Reagan’s stay at a residence during the Geneva Summit: While using his host’s son’s bedroom, the boy’s goldfish died. The story of the president of the United States leaving an apology note to the child is charming, granted, even if it’s presented as an act of extraordinary integrity, of the “Mr. Gorbachev can WAIT!” sort. But McNamara needs absolution, appending after the credits the boy’s written reply, exonerating his prestigious guest of any pet-care negligence. Fish die — it’s not a big deal! A fitting conclusion to a juvenile slog of hero worship.