W.

More restrained than Stone's other films, W.'s strength is Brolin, who appears to have inhabited Bush's skin. His facial expressions, cadence, carriage -- the actor has almost discomfitingly captured it all, turning in a nuanced performance that might even get some of Dubya's biggest critics to feel for the guy. That's because Brolin's (and Stone's) Bush is haunted by a longing for his father's approbation and driven to delineate differences between his and his father's presidencies. Surrounding him is a cadre of power brokers -- Dick Cheney (Richard Dreyfuss), Karl Rove (Toby Jones), and Donald Rumsfeld (Scott Glenn), for starters -- eager to yank his strings, even as Bush tries to declare independence from paternal control.

But here's the movie's weakness: For all the material that Stone had to work with, W. feels strangely tepid for a story that's still playing out in the headlines (and headed for the history books). The storytelling is jumbled and superficial, except for when it explores Bush's relationship with his father. But even then, the struggle seems paint-by-numbers (so does Thandiwe Newton's wooden portrayal of Condoleeza Rice, which is all twitches and grimaces). In the end, we don't end up knowing Bush all that well -- and nor, it appears, does Bush.