Illustration by Michael DiMilo
★★★1/2
The Art of Greed: Film Review of The Apprentice
By Geoff Carter
One of the timeliest films to come out this year was The Apprentice, a biopic of Donald Trump’s life as a young man and his subsequent career as a ruthless and unscrupulous businessman. Even fans of Donald Trump might find this film a harrowing and disturbing story. Spawned in the eighties, the age of unabashed materialism and the legitimization of greed, young Trump learned at the knee of one of the most appallingly cruel and disgusting human beings to walk the face of the Earth—Roy Cohn. Notorious for his prosecution of the Rosenbergs and his dogged insistence that Ethel Rosenberg, the mother of young children, receive the death penalty—which she did, Cohn was the epitome of sleaze and ruthlessness.
During the film’s introduction, the camera takes the viewer on a tour of the underbelly of 1980s New York City, paying most attention to Times Square and its rows of porn theaters, endless parades of hookers, and non-stop live sex show barkers. It is sleaze personified.
The camera moves from the streets into a prominent social club, at which Donald Trump (Sebastian Stan) is sitting at a table trying to impress a young lady by describing the wealth of the clientele. He is summoned to the table of Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong), who simultaneously welcomes and insults the young man. Trump tells Cohn that his family is under investigation for discriminating against African Americans in their housing units and begs him to represent them. Cohn blows him off. Trump is then shown at his job, collecting rents in his father’s tenement, getting sworn at and having boiling water thrown at him—hardly the life of a successful businessman.
Cohn takes a shine to Trump and agrees to take his case and secures a win in typical Cohn fashion when he blackmails the lead prosecutor with compromising photos. He becomes Cohn’s sycophant; the older man teaches him how to dress well, handle the media, and his three rules: always attack, never admit you’re wrong, and always claim victory no matter what. Trump attends one of Cohn’s wild parties, meets Andy Warhol (and is hilariously oblivious to his reputation) and walks in on Cohn in the middle of a gay orgy.
Trump wants to develop Time Squares decrepit Commodore Hotel, and Cohn—by blackmailing city officials with his collection of surreptitiously made tapes, is able to secure a tax deferment for his protégé. Our hero is then well on his way. He builds Trump Tower and begins to emerge as a New York City real estate mogul. As his power base expands, in no small part because of Roy Cohn’s influence and machinations.
Against Cohn’s advice, Trump proposes to his girlfriend Ivana (Maria Bakolova), who he woos in (an almost) touchingly clumsy date when he pursues her to Aspen. Cohn insists Trump sign a draconian pre-nuptial agreement that Ivana rejects outright. Fittingly, Trump has to bribe her to wed her.
Years pass, Trump’s power and influence grow and he becomes increasingly cruel and ruthless to not only his adversaries but to his friends—even his mentor Roy Cohn. He turns on his own family, trying to trick his father to sign over a sibling’s trust. He overreaches (no surprise here) and, against the advice of Cohn, invests in his Atlantic City casinos—which go bankrupt.
Roy Cohn’s longtime friend and gay lover Russell (Ben Sullivan) is ill, dying from AIDS, and Cohn persuades Trump (with some difficulty) to house him in one of his hotels. Cohn himself looks sick and is facing disbarment for innumerable transgressions. A few months later, he confronts Trump outside his offices, demanding to know why he turned out his friend Russell out of the hotel. They argue and Cohn strikes him.
Much later, Trump hears Cohn is very sick and invites him down to his new Florida home for his mentor’s birthday. Cohn accepts. He is very ill and confined to a wheelchair but makes the effort to see his protégé. Trump presents Cohn with a set of valuable diamond cufflinks that turn out to be cheap fakes. Cohn tries to address the gathering but breaks down in tears.
After he leaves, the room is completely disinfected and sterilized. Cohn dies of AIDS. Instead of attending his funeral, Trump has liposuction and scalp-reduction surgeries. The film ends as he is being interviewed by the ghostwriter of his autobiography. Trump professes his three rules: Attack, attack, attack. Never admit defeat. Never admit defeat.
And so, the student has surpassed the master. As Darth Vader became more powerful than Obi Wan Kenobi, Donald Trump became more narcissistic, cruel, and ruthless than Roy Cohn. The irony here is of course that the lessons Trump learned so well virtually obliterated what small traces of empathy and humanity existed in him; by his own metrics, his greatness is measured by his selfishness and greed.
Viewed through the lens of our collective experience of Donald Trump as national celebrity and president (very similar roles in his own mind), this film could be viewed as an explanation or an assassination of his character. This was the man who later in his career fomented the January 6th riot and who was convicted of thirty-four felonies—and who somehow got himself reelected as president. Knowing what Donald Trump has done and who he is today has to prejudice the audience’s attitude toward him.
In the beginning of The Apprentice, as a young man, Trump almost seems to be a normal guy. We almost feel sorry for him as we watch him as a lowly rent collector or being verbally abused by his father. When Cohn takes him under his wing, Trump’s naivete is almost touching. Yet later, when the tables are turned, and Trump scornfully turns his back and humiliates his former mentor, we see the depths to which he has sunk.
I didn’t really want to watch The Apprentice. I’m no fan of the president and wasn’t sure if I could maintain my objectivity, but because this film is so well-balanced, I could understand, loath, and sympathize with both of these ruthless sadists all at once. This is largely in part to the bravura performances of Sebastian Stan as Trump and Jeremy Irons as Roy Cohn. Irons radiates a sort of reptilian viciousness tempered only by his affection for country and—for some reason—Donald Trump. As Trump, Sebastian transforms himself from an ambitious young man into a brutal and unscrupulous tyrant. While not trying to imitate Trump, Stan’s masterful use of facial expressions, speech, and mannerisms—perhaps because it is not mimicry—seems eerily familiar (in a nasty sort of way).
Cohn’s illness strips away his toughness, exposing his vulnerability. He reaches out to his protégé, who slaps his hand away. This is not a buddy film in the normal sense. Trump and Cohn bond over crime, graft, and power. They are both dancing with the devil—each other. The Apprentice is not a great film, but it is one that should be seen as both a cautionary tale and a warning. Power–as we have seen–corrupts. Absolutely.
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