In the world of political documentaries, there’s the land of Michael Moore’s righteousness, the conspiracies of Dinesh D’Souza, and at the moment little else. Beto O’Rourke’s HBO campaign doc is part of that “little else” camp which all too often aligns itself with a small audience.
Now enters the definitive Steve Bannon film which, like Running With Beto, The Brink is unlikely to reach anyone outside of the target audience–Bannon’s opponents–at the same time, its message and natural documentation of the “banality of evil” transcends the medium. This is in no way an attempt to humanize the former Trump aide. Nor does it look to normalize Bannon’s politics unless normalization is simply providing a platform (in which case, such a stance is antithetical of the project). Director Alison Klayman pulls off a miracle downsizing a year’s worth of material to create a well-rounded and informative narrative that confirms as much about Bannon as it leaves questions.
Rather than explain what Bannon is or where he comes from, the fly on the wall approach Klayman and her team uses picks him apart without ever picking a fight. There is an air of uncertainty if he’s ever being his true self, but to take that viewpoint is to suggest his whole life is performance art—not only acting for media interviews and speeches, but 24/7 with a camera crew. The Bannon that wrote for Breitbart, provided viral interviews across the world, and feverishly campaigned for Roy Moore and Trump is the same Bannon in Klayman’s frame.
That might be a scary thought to some viewers. Though, anyone that supports him should find it satisfying. He’s the real McCoy for the far-right movement. His passport logs to Europe to help further a populist nationalism agenda show his devotion but that doesn’t paint him as some mastermind hellbent on world domination. It may be tempting to think the moments that Bannon instructs the camera crew to stay behind closed doors leave room for foul play and crooked narrative to unfold, but he shoots straight (with a crooked viewpoint depending on political affiliation) through and through with the utmost access.
There’s sincerity in regards to his work that may be confused with humanizing him, but Klayman’s camera eventually unveils that Bannon though infamous is not this glorious mastermind. His ideas are approved by yes men and his sense of shame is nonexistent. Though he also finds memes entertaining about his health during the 2016 campaign, that’s not to show that, “Hey! Steve Bannon is nervous about his weight just like me!” but instead a reminder of the team politics being played on both ends and how little online activism plays when up against a force like Bannon.
It’s refreshing to not dig for answers about all that. There’s no question about why things like trolls don’t bother him or why he believes certain ideas behind the scenes. It takes some courage to leave the narrative up to the subject without push-back. Yet, Klayman pulls it off in perhaps the only possible way considering any line of questioning Bannon could lead to even more disinformation.
The bottom line is, Bannon is one of the world’s most intriguing political figures and though a more comprehensive biography is required at some point, Klayman’s non-intrusive approach shows what matters in the present. How much it incites political action is an issue for later, but it will at least reignite the debate surrounding Bannon for now.
