At the tail end of 2008, Oliver Stone’s W. painted a reflective portrait of President Bush as his second term ended and people were getting ready to move on. That film felt too tame and empathetic for such a divisive figure, which made for a reductive film. Now, 16 years later, Ali Abassi’s The Apprentice (2024), a biographical drama showcasing Donald Trump’s rise to power in the New York real estate scene of the 1970s-1980s, chooses to discuss a former president without referencing his political career. 

The film is relatively straightforward in painting a broad picture of how a dense, billionaire’s son trekked his notoriety as an entertainer and exhibited the gross personality that plagues our daily lives. Like Stone’s film, The Apprentice never feels transgressive, as softball narratives aren’t sufficient when tackling a complicated figure. The boldest it becomes is Trump’s treatment of Roy Cohn, his wife, and Trump Jr. as disposable subjects that can be replaced. Is that how Trump views the rest of the world? Abassi doesn’t say. Are relationships purely transactional as demonstrated in how Trump finagles his way through bureaucratic red tape to achieve his costly goals? The ambiguity speaks loudly as the film is not punching up to power, but merely placates it.

Abassi and journalist-turned-screenwriter Gabriel Sherman seem more interested in understanding how the Trump we know came to be, and it has to do with his mentor-apprentice relationship with  Cohn. It wisely doesn’t touch on Trump’s current presence, outside of some quips that reek of SNL comedic easter eggs. “You should run for president,” a colleague boasts to a young Trump. Rather, The Apprentice follows a young, insecure Donald Trump (Sebastian Stan) yearning to break free from his father’s shadow (Fred Trump played well by Martin Donovan). Donald meets Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong), a cutthroat lawyer who famously assisted in the successful conviction of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who takes a liking to Donald, slowly molding him and instructing him to showcase power through sheer force and showmanship. It’s growing Trump’s confidence through legally gray maneuvers and deal-making with the elites of New York that would lead to Trump’s famous, The Art of the Deal book that bookends the film.

The first half details Trump’s willingness to listen and follow Cohn. Trump practices his lessons and parrots his unruly behavior, which informs the unwavering narcissism that led to the construction of the exorbitant Trump Tower and his marriage to Ivana (Maria Bakalova). It’s only in the second half does the present Trump creep into Stan’s performance, as he becomes more egotistical, superficial, and arrogant of his capabilities. That ignorance haphazardly comes at the expense of those who knew him before his media-formed personality, and it’s here the film feels stagnant in never piercing through the Trump veneer. 

Abassi settles on a tone that makes Trump eagerly innocent enough to pat on the head. The film is playful and light, recontextualizing Trump as someone impressionable enough to be molded by a staggering figure like Cohn, stepping in as a substitute father figure. The braggadocious persona Stan imbues in Trump is fun and zippy that makes you forget the figure you know from real life. He feels like an offbeat entitled child who is precarious about his place in the elite circles of New York.  

Shot like a home video that would contain a Trump commercial ad, the film hones in on the accessibility of home media that feels intertwined with the rise of Trump. Trump and the media feel like they only intersected in the last decade—it feels like a missed opportunity to explicate Trump’s love-hate symbiotic relationship with the media that elevated him to the glamor of elite celebrity status.

Stan is simply marvelous. It is not an enviable position where an actor of his caliber dons the full suit and makeup of a controversial figure; Stan disappears in a way that strips our current perceptions and produces a character that behaves like a learning, bright-eyed intern. It’s not craven that makes Trump seem power-hungry, but more spongy in soaking information and reflecting it into the world. He learns how to wield the power he never knew he had, and it’s engaging to see such a gifted actor not enact an impression but exhibit the humanistic qualities that seem far gone in our media ecosystem. The mannerisms and vocal inflections are good on their own, but it’s Stan’s wide-eyed drive that opens the portal into Trump, as he is marvelous at depicting the human meatbag behind the persona.

Strong is equally powerful and magnetic as the mighty Cohn. So often Strong feels more unruly and unsympathetic as a parasite that’s found its host, clinging to Trump like a life preserver, supporting him when Trump needs it and feeling a sense of self-satisfaction of imparting his years of wisdom into a burgeoning mind. From his low-toned nasally-sounding voice to his gaunt stance, like a New York skyscraper—it’s a wonderful performance that soon becomes subverted as Cohn battles AIDS and the mentor-student relationship dissolves.  Scenes of Trump avoiding Cohn and his calls highlight the core of the film’s narrative, and Cohn realizes his legacy may be in the form of his greatest ally and enemy. Trump succeeds his master; Cohn is left adrift in his misery. The sick desperation of Cohn’s deteriorating health and his desire to retain his dignity feels the closest to Abassi taking a sympathetic approach.

Bakalova as Ivana does the best she can, as her performances hinges on her slow acclimation to the Trump lifestyle, and Abassi does a good job directing her to feel she has her agency over a billionaire who treats her like his plaything. Even a scene that involves her negotiating the price of her payment to stay married to Trump feels like a rich example of the transactional nature when it comes to Donald Trump, yet her scenes feel reduced and perfunctory that’s in service of informing who Trump is at this time. 

It’s hard to be delicate about a figure like Trump, especially during the 2024 election year. Disregarding the controversy the film endured after its premiere at the Cannes Festival, the film is insubstantial in saying something pointed about Trump that your extended family members don’t know. 

The relationship between Trump and Cohn informs the parasitic nature Trump is known to exhibit, as the people around Trump deteriorate in health and relationship, he continually rises. His brother, Trump Jr, succumbs to alcohol poisoning, Cohn desperately hides that he has AIDS, and Ivana’s initial spark that gravitated toward Trump slowly fizzles out. Sadly, Abassi diverts from digging deep into any interiority or complexity in the second half, right as his pompous persona takes over the sheepish former self, thus rendering Trump a showman. 

By midway, Cohn shows Trump his illegal activity of taping conversations and invading private phone calls,.Trump has a moment of clarity and reluctance if this is okay. “My client is America,” a platitude Cohn emphasizes that infects Trump like an obsession. The sense of American exceptionalism and capitalistic idealization seems foundational to understanding the Cohn-Trump dynamic. This is their right and sense of duty to enact their impulses (legality be damned) if it means they can win. 

In the last few years, Trump has made it a point that his service is for America despite the many activities that seem self-interested, yet the closest nuance Abassi can come to in the end is that, unlike Cohn, Trump’s client is himself. I’m not sure a riches-to-even-greater-riches narrative was necessary to inform us of that, but for Abassi and Sherman, hindsight is 20/20.

Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai

Image Courtesy of East Bay Times via Briarcliff