Tuesday, May 24, 2005
The bio-pic features sarcasm, wit and laughs, and even earns The Donald a smidgen of sympathy.
By SID SMITH
CHICAGO TRIBUNE
Does the world really need -- can it even withstand -- even one more broadcast pixel aimed at the life, times and persona of Donald Trump?
Barring pre-emptive news events tonight, "Trump Unauthorized" (9 EDT, ABC), a two-hour TV movie, is here, ready or not. And it is humiliating to confess that it's sometimes funny and always superficially, shamelessly watchable.
The Donald, the nickname bestowed on him by first wife Ivana, has become an oversized pop cartoon, his braggadocio, hubris and P.T. Barnum excess as instantly recognizable now as Jack Benny's stinginess in his day. Trump is our universal target of satiric scorn laughing all the way to the bank. It's impossible to divine the difference between the man and the media chimera.
That more or less sums up the operative style of Keith Curran's teleplay. "Trump Unauthorized" abandons the muddied mix of bottom-feeder drama and fawning worship of the typical TV bio-pic. (Consider CBS' recent "Elvis.") It plays for laughs and as a speedy trip through tabloid memory.
The early years
We all know about "The Apprentice." But how many recall Ivana Trump and mistress Marla Maples' catfight on the ski slopes in front of an ecstatic horde of paparazzi?
"Trump Unauthorized" races through more than a decade of Trump's life, tracing early triumphs, his early media omnipotence, his scathingly trashy marital breakup and his Greek tragedian economic collapse. Throughout, the tale is mined for mean-spirited humor typical of the way Trump is widely treated elsewhere.
For instance, his friend and beloved colleague, Peter Wennik (the always wry and wonderful Saul Rubinek), says this of Trump's early infatuation with Ivana: "She's a marginally successful European model," adding, after a pause, "who skis."
Ron McLarty, in a lively portrayal of Fred Trump Sr., Donald's father, is even tougher. When he learns Donald is relying on Ivana as interior design manager of his projected hotel, Fred remarks, with dripping sarcasm:
"Just what I'd do. I'd meet a Czechoslovakian ex-model with no design experience whatever and, at best, a nodding acquaintance with the English language. I'd marry this woman within 10 minutes of meeting her and have her personally design my $70 million Manhattan luxury hotel."
At this point in the now very awkward lunch, Donald's brother, the sad and tragic Fred Jr., interjects, "Good soup."
The actors
McLarty's Fred Sr. is one of the assets here. Later, while watching Donald snow an interviewer on TV, talking of his streetwise days in Queens and his self-made achievements, Fred Sr. says to Donald's mother, "There's not a self-made bone in his body." In response to one of his son's hair hare-brained ideas, he says, "I'm changing my name to Chump."
As the Donald, Justin Louis looks more like actor Owen Wilson and, try as his stylists might, he doesn't really duplicate that inimitable, iconic hairdo. But he sounds like Trump, and he is an effective, serviceable stand-in as the story and years sail by. Katheryn Winnick is an overly accented caricature as Ivana, whose treatment is demeaning to her and women in general, except for a surprisingly empathetic look at her plastic surgery.
Jennifer Baxter does much better as mistress Marla, whose tale is treated with both smug satire and surprising poignancy. Best of all may be Chris Potter, who conveys the alcoholism and mopey innocence of Fred Jr. with childlike grace and even charm.
Faced with bankruptcy, advisers urge Trump to cut staff to assuage the financial community. In a tart allusion to "The Apprentice," Trump responds, "I don't like firing people. I've never been comfortable with it."
Ultimately, something of a real human being peeks through here. "Unauthorized Trump" mercilessly whips through the titanic and the tawdry. But, strange as it sounds, it actually succeeds in earning the guy a smidgen of sympathy.