Miss Sloane

It would be inaccurate to call Miss Sloane a John Madden movie, since the Shakespeare in Love director has never had much of a distinctive visual style to call his own. It would be closer to the truth if we were to call it a Jonathan Perera film, as the novice screenwriter’s feature debut is distinctly colored by his lack of experience and tendency to lean on other, better writers. Yet, neither of these descriptors would adequately express the fact of the matter, which is that Miss Sloane is a Jessica Chastain movie through and through.

Chastain’s role as Elizabeth Sloane — a high-powered D.C. lobbyist who defects from her conservative firm when asked to sell female voters on defeating a new gun control law — is possibly the best she’s been offered since her star-making turn in Zero Dark Thirty. The actress seems preternaturally well-suited to playing tough women succeeding in male-dominated fields, and the Sloane character offers her a chance to outmaneuver her opponents in some very gratifying ways. The character’s capacity for ruthless cunning — coupled with her almost preposterously prescient gamesmanship — will be sufficiently entertaining for those who love the backroom dealings of House of Cards. But the political-thriller angle can only carry the film so far in the absence of a more credible story.

The film’s greatest shortcomings lie in its script, and Perera’s practically nonexistent background as a writer proves too great a challenge for one any one performer to overcome. His excessively verbose and persistently awkward dialogue falls frustratingly short of his obvious aspiration to the literary levels of Aaron Sorkin or David Mamet. As the plot contrivances become more ludicrous, the dialogue becomes more obtrusive, until the potential emotional affect of an intriguing character study is all but lost in a sea of meaningless dilettantism. Perera seems to have been on the verge of making a point, but got distracted by an impulse to gussy up hot-button topics — like the debate over gun-control legislation or the role of women in politics — with some hastily amended intrigue. Sloane’s gender, as well as the Second Amendment conflict in which she’s engaged, play as little more than MacGuffins, moving the story forward arbitrarily without harboring any deeper significance to character or theme.

The film’s greatest shortcomings lie in its script, and Perera’s practically nonexistent background as a writer proves too great a challenge for one any one performer to overcome. His excessively verbose and persistently awkward dialogue falls frustratingly short of his obvious aspiration to the literary levels of Aaron Sorkin or David Mamet. As the plot contrivances become more ludicrous, the dialogue becomes more obtrusive, until the potential emotional affect of an intriguing character study is all but lost in a sea of meaningless dilettantism. Perera seems to have been on the verge of making a point, but got distracted by an impulse to gussy up hot-button topics — like the debate over gun-control legislation or the role of women in politics — with some hastily amended intrigue. Sloane’s gender, as well as the Second Amendment conflict in which she’s engaged, play as little more than MacGuffins, moving the story forward arbitrarily without harboring any deeper significance to character or theme.

If Miss Sloane fails to convey anything more profound than its protagonist’s foibles, that doesn’t preclude it from being moderately entertaining. Madden’s direction, though largely uninspired, at least never fails to make Chastain look good, and her performance carries the film further than could justifiably be expected given the circumstances. However, it’s difficult to overlook the political climate in which the film was released, following just weeks after the ignominious defeat of a serious female contender for the highest office in the land. Had the election gone differently, Miss Sloane might have come across as a more timely and resonant film — which may well be the reason its production was fast-tracked in the first place. Things being what they are, it’s just another largely forgettable piece of quasi-political filmmaking, the merits of which fail to achieve its grandiose ambitions. Rated R for language and some sexuality.

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Now Playing at Carmike 10, Regal Biltmore Grande, Epic of Hendersonville.