"Our Brand Is Crisis" is an acidic, biting political satire that asserts the notion that marketing has taken over the democratic process. There's truth in that thesis, especially since the film is based on a documentary of the same name that captured the machinations of American political and branding consultants for hire during a 2002 election in Bolivia.
For director David Gordon Green, it's a step in a new, more sophisticated direction, and for producers Grant Heslov and George Clooney, the film is an entry into their stable of slick political romps that are topical whether they are contemporary or not.
Sandra Bullock's "Calamity" Jane is dragged out of self-imposed retirement by Ben (Anthony Mackie) and Nell (Ann Dowd), political operatives looking for a scapegoat as much as they are a ringer. They've secured a contract with a presidential candidate, Castillo (Joaquim de Almeida), in Bolivia and are heading for parts South. What actually gets Jane on the plane to Bolivia is the chance to square off with her longtime sworn nemesis, Pat Candy (Billy Bob Thornton), who's been enlisted by the competition.
Jane is a perfect role for Bullock's everywoman persona — she plays her as a bit of an idiot savant, rumpled, constantly clutching a half-eaten bag of salty snacks, outfitted in her ever-present trenchcoat and glasses. She spouts Sun Tzu and Machiavelli quotes at random, but she's clear-eyed and not a sycophant, which allows her to see through the mess of Castillo's campaign. She claims the nebulous threat of "crisis" as their brand, and the tide starts to turn. When she launches all-out war on their competition, it's personal more than anything else — she just wants to beat Pat Candy.
The team, and the film, harbor no starry-eyed belief in Castillo as a candidate — he's basically the Donald Trump of Bolivia. The people believe the billionaire will go running right to the IMF and plunge their country into a pit of globalized debt. He just might, but that's not the point for his campaign team, who can only see poll numbers. For Jane, it's a blood feud played out upon a national landscape that won't have any effect on her real life.
Much has been made of the fact that the lead role was originally written for a male actor, and it's to the film's credit that it never becomes about Jane's gender. Nor is it about the other political fixer's gender or race. They are all driven by the same craven political competitiveness that transcends their identities — for better, or probably worse.
Jane is a genius, but she's deeply flawed, struggling with substance abuse and mental illness. That dark underbelly adds depth to the film's ironic humor. Jane's real demon is her own existential terror.
The film is deeply cynical, and there's a fearlessness in that cynicism. This is undermined in the 11th hour by an implausible change of heart that feels tacked on to please focus groups and give the film a Hollywood ending. While Jane gets the hero's redemption, she's far more interesting when she's not being a hero.
