ower players, such as Senate Majority Leader Bob Munson (Walter Pidgeon) of Michigan and the whip (Paul Ford), are aflutter on Capitol Hill when the President of the United States (Franchot Tone) declares that he’ll appoint Robert A. Leffingwell (Henry Fonda) as Secretary of State. Leffingwell is a firebrand who never plays ball and has more enemies than friends in congress, which means that the inevitable congressional hearing will be tumultuous and divisive, particularly from South Carolina Senator Seabright Cooley (Charles Laughton), who holds a longstanding grudge against the Secretary-of-State-hopeful. The negotiations are about to get disparaging and dicey.

“This story is fiction …” insists the usual disclaimer during the opening titles. It’s especially amusing for this tale, considering that “Advise & Consent” may be one of the most realistic depictions of the inner workings of U.S. politics ever put to celluloid, fascinatingly revealing the decorum, the rituals, the gossip, the deceitful speeches, the underhanded tactics, the wheeling-and-dealing, and the ugliness of partisan gatherings. It’s incredibly detailed, overflowing with dialogue and brimming with the rules and regulations of committees and subcommittees, unveiling the myriad ways in which members of the same party fight and debate, primarily over the rewarding of powerful positions to those who may or may not deserve it and to those who may or may not be qualified.

“It’s all very confusing …” says a collection of women observing the Senate hearing, led by Dolly Harrison (Gene Tierney), who essentially narrates the proceedings, ostensibly to explain to a foreigner how the process works. Clearly, however, much of their chatter is used to enlighten audiences on the complicated procedures at hand. And as Leffingwell himself acknowledges, there’s a specific type of chicanery on the Hill: Washington D.C. lying, which is the kind in which all parties know it’s a lie, and know that everyone involved also knows – continually utilized for performative exclamations and tantrums and traps that make the senatorial meeting just that much less straightforward. “This man is hiding something!”

Once the formal interrogation gets underway, “Advise & Consent” shifts toward a character assassination scenario, using the subcommittee questioning and testimony to paint Leffingwell as a communist. Though the film is a product of its time, weighing contemporary events such as the Cold War and fears of Red infiltration, the concept of skewering political opponents is utterly timeless. Plus, the film takes an ageless stab at ancient statesmen, who don’t know where they are or what they’re voting for; the general impotency of the Vice President (here played by Lew Ayres); the backstabbing investigations and extortions for pressure or protection; nepotism and connections; invasions of privacy (and sexuality); and the circus-like theatrics of witch-hunt cross-examinations as various politicians attempt to dig up dirt on one another. Though the specifics of Leffingwell’s nomination may no longer be as relevant, the processes, procedures, and scrutinizing of political stances (and rampant hypocrisy and devious blackmailing) remain quite potent and realistic – alongside the devastating futility of continually changing administrations. “What kind of a double-cross is this?”

Produced and directed by Otto Preminger, this behind-the-scenes look at a series of confirmation hearings, punctuated by moments of arm-twisting compromises, unexpected treachery, and galvanizing revelations, is thoroughly educational and entertaining – chiefly for viewers interested in the subject matter. Unfortunately, for everyone else, there’s a certain slowness (the runtime is exhausting) as it allows a great deal of its enormous ensemble cast (including small roles for Peter Lawford, Burgess Meredith, Inga Swenson, Paul McGrath, and Betty White, among others) to develop intricate backstories, allegiances, and motivations. A couple of romance subplots also arise (as if to check a box for scripts of the era, despite them having little to do with the main premise), as well as a sequence for Leffingwell to redeem his character as a role model for his young son. And dramatic interactions further stretch out the runtime, keeping the players away from the grilling on the Senate floor. Nevertheless, the finale is exceptional, demonstrating just how much corruption and mendacity fuels the government (the actual ending is a bit of a Hollywood sanitization and collision of extreme coincidence and timing, not unlike in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington”); the believable moral bankruptcies and conspiratorial stratagems at work are monumental (a scathing indictment of politics through and through; it’s one of the most cynical movies ever made) – and the fact that they’re pertinent decades later is astonishing. “I’ll make you a deal.”

– Mike Massie