‘The Oath’ aims to make liberals squirm
First, let us stipulate for the court of public opinion that “The Oath” is either (A) a scathing parable of American proto-fascism or (B) the apotheosis of Trump Derangement Syndrome, depending on your particular epistemological bubble.
Either way, though, this near-future satire from actor and first-time director Ike Barinholtz stands out in these polarized times because it aims to discomfit the choir rather than preach to it.
Which choir, you ask? The setup makes it clear: U.S. citizens have until the day after Thanksgiving to sign, or decline to sign, a loyalty oath to the nation and to its president. Signing brings perks, like a tax break. What could be wrong with that?
Yes, “The Oath” does eventually go full Nazi. Like “Get Out,” it’s a thriller more than a comedy. And yes, there will be blood. But somewhat courageously, the film’s real focus is not on the obvious villains in this tale of two Americas, but on the absurd contradiction of its liberal hero watching a political apocalypse unfold on his iPhone.
Standing in for the woke-but-privileged is Chris, a sensitive, progressive white dude (Barinholtz’s movie, Barinholtz’s point of view). He’s married to a strong black woman (Tiffany Haddish) who immediately agrees that they’re not signing a loyalty oath to President Whatsisname. But she’s also keen to keep the peace with her America-first in-laws, who are spending a long weekend at their home. (Nobody is prepared for just how long.)
The least interesting thing about “The Oath” is its comic sensibility. There’s one basic joke: Existential crisis meets mundane reality, as when an argument
‘The Oath’
Ike Barinholtz. Bad
over whether Chris Rock is racist moves on to whether it’s acceptable for the government to gun down nonviolent protesters.
Which jokes work depends on if they feel organic to the characters or sound like they were written for a movie. There are examples of both — somehow, the gag about Dad not knowing how to use the remote works better the second time around — but we’re talking uncomfortable chuckles here, not riotous laughter. The humor doesn’t break the tension, it accentuates it.
And it’s that discomfort that “The Oath” is really aiming to evoke, which becomes clear when the plot thickens from family fight to life-and-death struggle with the arrival of a pair of government representatives (“Not cops!”), one spitting nails and “what have you given” rhetoric (Billy Magnussen), the other seemingly a hapless do-gooder (John Cho).
Through a series of clever reversals — not “Get Out” good, but pretty good — “The Oath” manages to raise the moral stakes along with the mortal ones, ultimately arriving at some pretty tough questions.
Such as, If you think you are witnessing the end of American democracy, why aren’t you marching in the streets instead of posting selfies from your yoga class? How much will you really risk for your beliefs? Your safety? Your family’s? What difference can one individual make, really?
It is these questions that make what could have been another weakness in the film — a denouement — the only possible ending, at least without tipping over into tragedy.
No, it wasn’t all a dream, but in “The Oath,” loud and clear, is the hope that someday it will all seem to have been.