The Apprentice: An American Horror Story. Director: Ali Abbasi. Writer: Gabriel Sherman. Starring Sebastian Stan. Jeremy Strong. Maria Bakalova. 2024.
Even the most loyal fan of Donald Trump will likely find something to appreciate from the Trump biopic, The Apprentice: An American Horror Story, which, by no small measure, is like what Citizen Kane was for William Randolph Hearst. The Trump film is not attempting anything as grandiose as redefining filmmaking but, while Trump’s lawyers would argue otherwise, it can hardly be dismissed as a “hit job.” No, this film is significant. As a story of one person’s descent into the abyss, it is impossible to resist the pull of this film. While it may seem, at first, to be merely framed within the confines of a biopic, it has a certain grace and gravitas all its own, with a distinctive degree of horror. I’ll demonstrate with a series of storyboards I created on the fly while viewing and later refined a bit.
And, one day, this will be Trump Tower!
The opening shots set the tone for an ambitious film with a young Donald Trump, circa 1974, the big player center stage. He is gallivanting through the decay and despair of economically throttled New York City. His eye is on the eyesore of the once opulent Commodore Hotel, the long dead crown jewel of a bygone Grand Central Terminal super-block. The young Don sees a way back to the glory days but that story is yet to unfold, a quintessential example of graft in the extreme.
Hi, I’m Donald Trump.
Steadily, we reach the core theme with the first meeting of young Don and the infamous take-no-prisoners super lawyer Roy Cohn. Early on, Cohn is impressed that Donald has managed to schmooze his way into membership to the same elite club he belongs to. He sees potential in the handsome bumbler.
Rules of the Game.
As his mentor, Cohn teaches the Donald the rules of the game, if you want to win at any cost: Rule 1: Attack, Attack Attack; Rule 2: Admit Nothing, Deny Everything; and Rule 3: Claim Victory, Never Admit Defeat.
Dinner with the Trumps.
So much of the raw content that makes up this film is bits of facts we’ve heard before but the film manages to look at them from a different angle as during a family dinner scene. There’s the patriarch, Fred Trump, openly belittling the eldest son, Fred Jr., for never having amounted to anything important. Fred Trump does not come across as an over-the-top villain, just a miserable person. There’s a deadening acceptance by everyone at the table that Freddy is a failure, not up to Trump standards. It is one of the most sorrowful Trump family facts that is a recurring motif.
It was love that didn’t stand a chance.
Why can’t Fred Jr. find his place in the world or why is it that the Trump family can’t seem to find a way to make him feel welcome? The answer is that Freddy doesn’t have the killer instinct. But Donald does–and that makes all the difference in the world.
No love to spare.
Again, at its core, this is a film about Donald and Roy Cohn. It turns out that the sorcerer’s apprentice has learned his lessons all too well. The tone of the characters drops from dark to darker and even pitch black at times. We see Don out to win at all costs. There’s a good amount of time spent depicting Donald stalking Ivana before he made her his bride, only to later assault her and discard her. Given enough time, Don will even discard his beloved mentor, Roy Cohn.
Young Donald Trump.
Of course, the film is self-conscious of its subject, its relevance and its undeniable connection to Citizen Kane. There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment with the young Don in his bachelor pad viewing Nixon on TV while in the background there’s a big movie poster of Citizen Kane.
Trump’s Rosebud.
The final frames of the film zoom in on Trump, now a full-fledged killer in the game of life. And, just like a fanciful scene from Citizen Kane, the camera closes in on his eyeball, an American flag waving from within. While not a perfect match, the Citizen Kane/The Apprentice comparison is definitely worth discussion. It’s interesting for me to discover, having lately been reading up on Orson Welles, that there was a growing consensus by critics, when Citizen Kane was released in 1941, that somehow that film failed to capture something. When you tallied it all up, Charles Foster Kane remained an enigma and perhaps not someone even worthy of so much attention. Well, from today’s point of view, that uncanny hollowness makes the film all the more alluring. Also, from today’s point of view, it should give us all quite a shudder.
