Adam McKay's 2018 biographical drama "Vice" offers a sharp, if often provocative, examination of Dick Cheney's ascent from a Wyoming utility worker to the architect of modern American policy. A significant element of the film's critical power lies not just in its content, but in its deliberate manipulation of temporal structure. McKay eschews a straightforward chronological account, instead employing a non-linear narrative that frequently jumps between different decades, intersperses archival footage, and even breaks the fourth wall. This fragmented approach serves a crucial purpose: it mirrors the disorienting nature of historical revisionism, complicates the audience's perception of Cheney's motivations, and ultimately underscores the film's central argument about power's corrosive and self-serving narrative construction.
The film opens in 2000, with Cheney (Christian Bale) delivering a speech on the virtue of a humble life. This seemingly simple scene is immediately disrupted by a directorial intrusion, revealing Cheney's later, more powerful role and setting the stage for a deconstruction of his public persona. From this point, the narration fractures. We are flung back to Cheney's college days at the University of Wyoming, his early political missteps, and his eventual mentorship under Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell) during the Nixon administration. These flashbacks are not merely illustrative; they are deliberately presented out of sequence, forcing the viewer to piece together the causal links and the gradual shifts in Cheney's political ideology and moral compromises. For instance, his brief foray into draft evasion during the Vietnam War is presented after we've already witnessed his hawkish foreign policy stances as Vice President, creating a subtle but potent irony that questions the consistency of his patriotism.
McKay further destabilizes the timeline by weaving in documentary-style archival footage. News clips from the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s are integrated to provide a layer of historical verisimilitude, but also to highlight the disconnect between the public record and the film's more speculative interpretations. When Cheney, as Secretary of Defense, grapples with the Gulf War's aftermath, the film intercuts real news footage of the conflict's triumph with scenes depicting his behind-the-scenes machinations to consolidate power. This juxtaposition creates a critical distance, suggesting that the official narratives of these events were themselves carefully curated performances, much like Cheney's own carefully constructed public image. The use of archival material therefore acts as a metatextual commentary, reminding the audience that history is not a fixed entity but a contested narrative, constantly being shaped and reshaped by those in power.
Perhaps the most striking temporal disruption occurs in the film's latter half, particularly during the exploration of the Bush administration's post-9/11 policies. The narrative becomes increasingly fragmented, mirroring the chaos and uncertainty of that period, but also Cheney's decisive, often unilateral, actions. The famous "Unit 636" memo, which authorized enhanced interrogation techniques, is not presented as a single event but as a culmination of years of Cheney's quiet assertion of executive authority. The film even employs a meta-fictional device where Cheney, in a posthumous narration, directly addresses the audience and dictates his own narrative to his wife, Lynne (Amy Adams). This moment of direct address, coupled with the suggestion that his life story is being scripted as he speaks, powerfully articulates the film's thesis: that Dick Cheney actively constructed his own historical legacy, bending the events of his life to fit a predetermined vision of power and influence. The temporal structure, therefore, becomes a direct tool for exposing this self-serving narrative construction.
In conclusion, "Vice" utilizes its fractured and non-linear temporal structure not as a stylistic flourish, but as an essential component of its critical argument. By disrupting chronological flow, integrating archival footage, and employing meta-fictional devices, McKay forces the audience to actively engage with the construction of history and power. The film suggests that figures like Cheney do not simply live through history; they actively shape it, crafting narratives that serve their own ends. The disorienting, fragmented journey through Cheney's life mirrors the complex and often obscured pathways of political influence, ultimately leaving the viewer with a profound sense of the performative and constructed nature of historical understanding.