As I walked into the Embassy Cinema to see a screening of the film W., I thought to myself, "Self, you're a Politics minor, and you go to Brandeis. Haven't you had enough Bush-bashing to last a lifetime?"I had, and apparently, so had director Oliver Stone.

It would have been very easy for Stone to make a film that was composed entirely of negative portrayals of the 43rd president, but instead, W. is unexpectedly defensive of Bush. While Stone certainly doesn't absolve George W. Bush (Josh Brolin) of his political sins, he does depict him as someone who doesn't know any better and who should probably be wearing a bicycle helmet 24/7 rather than running the country. In order to achieve this less-than-insightful portrayal, we are frequently shown shots of Bush running through his inner field of dreams with a dazed expression on his face and from first-person perspectives in times of stress, during which faces and images get blurred by W.'s apparent inability to handle all the gosh-darn hardships of Washington, D.C.

Instead, the villain of the film is Dick Cheney, by Richard Dreyfuss portrayed understatedly and well, until he begins playing Cheney as a deranged psychopath obsessed with oil. But Dreyfuss isn't alone in his acting gaffes; the majority of the cast-particularly Thandie Newton and Jeffrey Wright in their roles as Condoleezza Rice and General Colin Powell, respectively-is guilty of horrendous overacting. Portions of the film feel more like an Saturday Night Live skit than a drama, as the actors perform lackluster impersonations of their characters rather than thoughtful interpretations.

The film also falters due to a lack of authenticity in its present-day scenes, a deficit that comes from personal meetings between Bush and his advisers including lines directly from Bush's campaign speeches and public foibles. However, while the movie fails in its depiction of the present, it succeeds in its retelling of the past: scenes containing the looming disapproval of a formidable James Cromwell as George Herbert Walker Bush are often poignant and offer insight into the reasons why W. is the way he is today.

But, these few worthwhile moments (that are occasionally a mixed bag themselves) aren't enough to salvage the film from Stone's attempts to create his own Citizen Kane through the inclusion of obscure, out-of-place symbols that include, but are not limited to, a foot stepping in slow motion on a corn-cob, close-ups of belt buckles and a praying W. bedecked with a halo of fluorescent lights.

The film also suffers on account of a severe misuse of time and an odd release date. In regards to the former, the movie devotes time to random events that are never elaborated upon (e.g., W. becoming engaged to a woman who is not Laura Bush and is subsequently never seen again) and overly dramatic reenactments of W. choking on a pretzel. However, it skips over more worthwhile subjects like W.'s struggles with cocaine.

In regard to the latter, the film comes too early for those who were part of the Bush administration to comfortably impart their true dealings with W. and at a time when he is not a particularly noteworthy figure; we are more concerned with those political contenders battling for the presidency than the figure currently filling the position. One may also conclude that the actors struggle, in part, because the characters they portray are still living.

In essence, W. is not for those seeking a film with teeth or the controversial depictions that Stone is typically known for. Rather, it is best suited to political junkies who enjoy frequent bursts of jargon regarding the Iraq War. The rest of us, unfortunately, will only find that W. is as rough around the edges as its namesake.