W.

The Wife and I had one of our (extremely) rare nights out without the kids this past weekend, and in the spirit of the political season we seized the opportunity to see the new Oliver Stone-helmed biopic of our current president, W.

The bad news first: Not a single Talking Heads song to be heard throughout the entire film, much less "Once in a Lifetime."

It's also not what you're expecting. It's not Oliver Stone holding Dubya's feet to the fire for two hours. As reported elsewhere online, it's a largely sympathetic character study of a chronic screw-up with serious daddy issues who tries to make good, and the one time he succeeds he gets in so far over his head that you can't help but pity him.

Is it funny? Yeah, but not as much as you'd expect. Bushisms and absurdities get most of the laughs. There's a lot of historical details crammed into this film, even if Stone mixes and matches for dramatic effect. For instance: The bit about Morocco sending thousands of trained monkeys to Iraq to detect minefields? True story. Only they weren't trained. Morocco had and over-population of monkey, so they proposed crating them up and releasing the critters on minefields in Iraq to detonate a clear path for U.S. troops. Bizarrely hilarious in a morbid way.

Josh Brolin is magnificent as Dubya. He's likable and sympathetic while simultaneously being a horse's ass. James Cromwell is excellent as the senior Bush. Even though he doesn't affect any speech or mannerisms ala Dana Carvey, he still carries an impressive presidential gravity on screen and shows in painful detail the death throes of the moderate wing of the Republican party.

Richard Dreyfuss darn near steals the show with his creepy, spot-on turn as VP Dick Cheney. I was dubious about this bit of casting, but wow, Dreyfuss disappears into the character.

The only real sour note was Jeffrey Wright's portrayal of St. Colin Powell. Set up as the only voice of reason within Dubya's administration, a sort of latter-day Cassandra figure, Wright's performance is stiff and arch. Every time he spoke, I suddenly felt like I was watching a Saturday Night Live skit. It just didn't work, and that's a shame.

Overall, it was enjoyable but not great. It reminds me, more than anything, to the obscure but worthwhile film The Life and Death of Peter Sellers with Geoffrey Rusch and Charlize Theron from a few years back. Like that film, W. has some great performances by actors who disappear into their characters. They try to show a balanced view of their respective subjects, and juggling the good with the bad makes for some awkward and ungainly moments. The films meander from one great scene to the next (there are great scenes, no doubt), with mediocre material filling the spaces in between. And neither film can really figure out how to end things, so they kind of stumble across the finish line.

That doesn't mean W. isn't worth seeing, but I expect this film to be one that gains a following via Netflix more than from theatrical viewings, and predict its reputation will grow the farther removed we get from Dubya's administration.

Now Playing: The Beatles Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band