The Comey Rule (2020)

 Score: 4 / 5

However any of us feels about him, James Comey will ultimately be remembered for his public announcement, only days before the 2016 presidential election, of an investigation into Hillary Clinton's use of private e-mails. It was unprecedented, improper, and undeniably ruined her chance at the presidency that year; it was also ethical to a disastrous fault. Read what you will into his book A Higher Loyalty, which may be little more than his "please don't hate me" attempt at mea culpa while pointing fingers at practically everyone else, but he's a fiercely intelligent and eloquent man with integrity. And, for that, he was also fired by the president he helped usher into power.

Between the title of this Showtime "miniseries", which is really just a two-part movie, and the casting of Jeff Daniels as Comey, I was sure The Comey Rule would lionize the man framed as its hero. And, much like the memoir that inspired it, a simple viewing gives that impression. The eminently likable Daniels imbues the character with all the quiet dignity and staunch righteousness that lives in our public perception of the former director of the FBI. And then when the screenplay daubs on thick scenes reminding us -- by beating us over the head -- that Comey is a firm, faithful family man and deeply devoted to the people who work for him, it's hard to find any chinks to exploit. He's the all-around good guy, prone to waxing philosophical about upholding the law and having integrity while carrying out his duties. It's inspiring in the way that Independence Day can be inspiring to a nation that needs reminding what patriotism really means.

But, I'd argue, despite its heavy-handed attempts to iconize its subject, the movie reveals some hard-to-swallow truths about the supposedly apolitical ex-director. After all, the problems inspired by the 2016 campaign season -- led by two candidates who could not be more at odds and, yet, so oddly similar in some respects -- manifested in serious problems of national and international security, apart from both credible and dubious claims of illegality from both parties. How could Comey have led these investigations when his professional experience of prosecuting mobsters in no way prepared him? Moreover, could he have even properly appreciated the political fallout of his actions when his actions were so apparently absent of political self-awareness? It's hard to think of the familiar procedures of his life, a routine gamut of clearly categorized situations and priorities, and imagine that he could even recognize threats to his ideals of respecting authority and exhibiting excellent leadership. And to have such blatant disregard for these things then use his good intentions to destroy democratic processes? It's a miracle he didn't crumble under the pressure; but maybe that would have been better.

The first part dramatizes the time before Election Night, as Comey and his staff engage in endless meetings to discuss the investigation into Clinton's e-mails. Despite lengthy and exhausting research, they could find no wrongdoing. Even when more information was revealed that, fatefully, pushed Comey to launch yet another investigation, they could find no evidence of criminality on her behalf. This is a point that must be made abundantly clear to understand what follows: by avoiding several key discussions I'd have liked to see dramatized, that despite all the hullabaloo about Clinton's e-mails, the FBI -- and, pointedly, Comey himself -- did not make public most of the crucial and ongoing information about Russian election interference. Similarly, but later (in the second part), Comey doesn't reveal that the president asked him to obstruct justice by dropping his investigation into Michael Flynn. Of course, we know that he did that after he was fired, which he should have known would raise questions of credulity. For a man obsessed with ethics, he wasn't very consistent.

In a totally thankless role, Daniels gives us his best fatherly impression of the utterly un-dramatic Comey, a character who, for the first 90 minutes at least, is about as dynamic as an office cubicle. But at the close of part one, as Clinton calls her opponent to concede the election, we recognize a dawning of uncertainty on his otherwise calm and controlled face. It helps that his family can't believe he acted the way he did. Even most of his staff has trouble reconciling his decision with its predictable outcome. But as the second part kicks into gear, his face morphs into something far more telling and far more frustrating: a sort of passive, blank look that indicates his awareness that he is in way over his head with the new president.

And what a performance from Brendan Gleeson as Donald Trump. Kept hidden for the first part, the second part dramatizes the new president from Comey's perspective in iconic and surprising ways. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first real movie about the 45th presidency, and it will earn its place in political thrillers even if the events it recreates have been overshadowed by so many other, darker events during the last four years. What's fascinating here is that, for those four years, we've been subjected to an onslaught of caricatures and satires of the man to the extent that we have become conditioned to think of him as funny. Dangerous and toxic, sure, but ultimately a sour joke or bad dream that can be mocked and discarded. But Gleeson injects open malice into the president, revealing his skills at intimidation and simplicity. Though it's not a new character entirely -- the script still gives him all Trump's gaffes and circular logic and mindlessly vain fixations -- this is a vision of the man behind closed doors and away from the cameras. He's terrifying. When he invites Comey for a private dinner in the White House, we are as uncomfortable as the stony-faced director, and we know this won't end well.

Ultimately, The Comey Rule will not live on as anything more than a fascinating, if minor, episode of the torturous circus act we've experienced under that administration. Ambitious writer/director Billy Ray (Secret in Their Eyes, Overlord, Flightplan, The Hunger Games, Captain Phillips) has done some really interesting work before (thinking of Shattered Glass and Breach, both about liars in Washington getting their comeuppance), but here his usually big-scale view feels unusually focused, despite its use of network coverage and media footage to contextualize his drama. This is almost certainly because the Comey episode was so brief -- roughly five months -- and has since been overshadowed by so many other scandals, not least of which was Trump's first impeachment. This makes it almost trite to revisit the beginning, and to spend prime time of this movie on two FBI agents sleeping together and exchanging intel, or Comey himself getting to know his underlings in the cafeteria line. Then again, the onscreen text that closes this film is deeply disturbing, as it updates viewers on the status of the FBI and DOJ members we've come to know. In case you've forgotten since the scandal(s), they've all been ousted.

Come for the history lesson -- which is to say, the reminder of the sad state of recent/current events -- but stay for masterful performances from a great cast. Daniels and Gleeson are the obvious stars, but Holly Hunter, Jennifer Ehle, and Michael Kelly support nicely. Then there's the fabulous cameo near the beginning of the amazing Kingsley Ben-Adir as President Obama interviewing the clear-cut "Bush guy" Comey for the FBI Director position. That's a far cry, we learn, from the pettiness and bullying of his successor, who ends up firing Comey via the news and trying to strand his perceived opponent in California. Now we just have to wait for Oliver Stone or Jay Roach or Adam McKay to make the next major movie about 45's tenure in the White House.