Dear Wags,

If the American ideal is only a cartoon of fame and greed, we stumbled upon our supreme icon years ago. Countless nasty words have been written about Donald John Trump, but when it comes to those twin obsessions, can anyone doubt his black heart? He’s hardly Cincinnatus, and we’re not that deep.

Now we have a cinematic origin story from Danish-Iranian director Ali Abbassi. The Apprentice, starring Sebastian Stan as young Donald and Jeremy Strong as venomous Roy Cohn, is part of the competition slate at next month’s Cannes Film Festival. Expect a standing ovation in France, followed by an incoherent rant on Truth Social. In case you missed it, this film is pegged to a consequential election.

The Apprentice is an account of how Cohn—red-baiter, closet case, crook—schooled a callow Trump in the dark arts. Think of it as Stephen King’s Apt Pupil set at Studio 54—made scarier because there’s some truth in it.

Cohn was the scenery-chewing villain in every scene he played, so Strong will likely get some awards buzz. Still, there’s good coaching and then there’s innate talent. The Republican presidential candidate will hate this movie, not least because Abbassi had the cheek to make him the junior partner in a two-hander. Trump’s not about to play second fiddle in his own mythology.

People try hard to deny Trump credit for the one thing he earned, which is the invention of Donald Trump. In that department, he’s mostly self-made. Our 45th president binged junk TV and patched together a character inspired by Dallas, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, and pro wrestling. That persona sends up a stupid culture in a grabby way. It may be grotesque, but it’s unforgettable and occasionally funny. The man gave Mark Zuckerberg the nickname Zuckerschmuck. None of the knuckle draggers on his team could have come up with that.

Bullying, buildings and bling are part of the act, but Trump’s driving ambition is for our attention. Whether his stock rises or falls, he gets compensated by haters and lovers all day long. Life and politics are a second-by-second struggle not to be erased, to control the narrative, and to deliver the last word on Trump.

It’s the opposite of what your meditation app reminds you is important, but the motivations are relatable. This culture exalts stardom and tries to suppress mounting bitterness. The darkest fear of millions is to be cast as a Loser, another inconsequential extra in the movie of life. What if you really don’t matter? What if all this craziness and pain just adds up to oblivion? Trump punches gnawing doubt in the face and puts on his godawful show.

In another time, we diverted unsettling questions with labor, worship, and civic obligation. Now, most of us distract ourselves with our phones. Yet they keep leading us back to what most upsets us. The addictive qualities of social media are not about togetherness but having a chance to scream into an open mic. And really, nobody understands that better than Trump.

Aside from Brendan Gleeson in the already forgotten 2020 miniseries The Comey Rule, few actors have attempted a serious portrayal of DJT; he’s been consigned to Saturday Night Live impersonations. But nobody does Trump better than Trump. Any characterization is just the opening act for more of him talking about himself.

The Apprentice is part of a growing genre of entertainments that draw from history as it’s still being lived. We no longer wait for stories to end before jumping in with our own version of events. It’s yet another imposition on reality, a fantasy that we can make the scary comprehensible with let’s pretend. Hollywood is so desperate to write Trump’s epitaph that it helps keep him in the mix.

Meanwhile, the headliner has a habit of tearing up the script. Trump knows how to vamp, always dropping hints about surprise endings. Some of his biggest supporters talk obsessively of assassination and civil war, yearning for the apocalyptic climax worthy of a blockbuster. When the curtain finally does fall, many of them will refuse to believe he’s gone.

Trump hardly needs Hollywood’s help when it comes to characterization; he doesn’t take notes. He’s as doomed as the rest of us, but he’ll deny it with his last breath. He devoutly believes that his celebrity delivers a kind of immortality. If he’s obsessed with a cheap idea of winning, then he’s already scored a victory: Forever and always, he’ll be a known commodity.

Yours Ever,

Return to Rockingham

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The Favourite

Mary & George (Starz). What fun Julianne Moore has as the 17th century version of a grasping stage mother, pimping out her son (Nicholas Galitzine) to advance the family prospects. This corker is inspired by Benjamin Woolley’s The King’s Assassin, the story of George Villiers, a minor noble who became the lover and possible killer of James I (Tony Curran). Wag DC Moore, the of writer of Killing Eve, constructed this viper’s nest. Wicked fun with ruffled collars. — Sarah Churchill

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The Sympathizer (Max). Viet Thanh Nguyen won a Pulitzer for his provocative thriller about a communist spy keeping tabs on Vietnamese exiles in America after the Fall of Saigon. In the glossy HBO version, Hoa Xuande stars as an agent torn between loyalty to the Viet Kong and a growing identification with refugees building new lives. It’s a provocative rejoinder to an earlier generation of Vietnam War flicks. Robert Downey Jr. will get an Emmy nomination for playing multiple ugly Americans with the help of wizardly hair and makeup. —Ngoc Lan Tran

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