Culture

*The Politician* Is an *Election* for the Social Justice Era


But perhaps Payton’s biggest deviation from Tracy Flick is that the Hobart family is exceedingly wealthy — like grotto oasis in the backyard wealthy — and the affluence that Payton grew up around certainly influences his ability to execute his plans. Payton’s particular sense of entitlement is emblematic of someone who has never been denied anything in his life, and the manner in which he flashes money around completely belies its value. (While trying to convince his eventual running mate to join his campaign, he casually offers her mom a new car as a bribe.)

But he’s also determined to earn everything through his own merit. Which is why he’ll suffer a meltdown after being waitlisted at Harvard, but will still balk at the suggestion that his adopted mom (Gwyneth Paltrow) buy his way into the school like she did for his “jerkwad” identical twin brothers, Martin (Trevor Eason) and Luther (Trey Eason).

In fact, Murphy has a lot of fun poking at privilege in general. One of the series’ best characters is Andrew (Ryan Haddad), a boy with cerebral palsy who feels no shame about his disability and enjoys toying with people that treat him differently because of it. In one hilarious scene, after Payton catches him smoking what he properly guesses is a joint, Andrew counters that smoking weed helps with his seizures. When Payton begins to express his understanding, Andrew does a quick about-face, taunting, “You dumbass! I don’t get seizures! I have cerebral palsy and I just like getting high.”

The Politician is at its strongest in these moments, when it’s confronting the saliency of identity. Some of the show’s most scathing satire builds from its clear focus on highlighting the many ways that identity can be weaponized to serve individual agendas, particularly in the realm of politics. This tone is established in the pilot, when Payton consults his team of advisors upon finding out that his opponent, River, had secured a ten-point lead in the polls after delivering a very humanistic speech about a recent suicide attempt. Without hesitation, James and McAfee propose pairing Payton with a “running mate that softens you up,” and it doesn’t take long to figure out that the phrase is simply a euphemism for “minority.” They suggest a “student from the special-ed class” (“I believe the proper modern vernacular for them is differently abled,” McAfee qualifies). Ultimately, they settle on a terminally ill cancer patient: Infinity Jackson (Zoey Deutch, doing her best Gypsy Rose Blanchard). Similarly, it’s no coincidence that River’s running mate, Skye Leighton (Rahne Jones), identifies as “a gender nonconforming African-American.” And because this is a Murphy production, none of these characters are treated like props; they’re all given substantial storylines as the show goes on.

Still, everything ultimately circles back to Payton because, at its heart, The Politician is a character study — or it wants to be. A perfectionist with big dreams of world domination and a severe victim complex about not always being the most popular person in the room, Payton’s obsession with becoming POTUS is clearly motivated by something deeper; his preternatural focus on this one goal helps distract from the fact that he often struggles to feel real emotion. Occasionally, he even exhibits qualities that many (say, the detectives in Mindhunter’s Behavioral Science Unit) may classify as borderline sociopathic.

But there’s a tender undertone to his character as well, one that hints at something more raw underneath his troubling exterior. He is, after all, readily questioning his own inability to feel. Though the show doesn’t dig nearly as deep as it maybe wanted to on this front, Payton’s deconstruction of his own psyche is palpable enough to make you want to celebrate when, in the season’s final episode, he re-emerges from a bout with alcoholism and tearfully admits, “I finally can feel.”

In the end, most people will fall in love with The Politician because, like any Ryan Murphy production, it’s simply fun to watch. There is an overwhelming abundance of interesting characters and, with a plot that often moves at a mile a minute, no shortage of twists that zig and surprises that zag. With its quick-paced rhythmic dialogue and sumptuous sets, at times it can even resemble a Wes Anderson film. That aspects of the story seem almost prescient — namely, its exploration of the nefarious business of buying college admissions — is mostly coincidence. That you’ll probably find it too addicting to turn off is definitely intentional.

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