I knew absolutely nothing about Charlie Wilson before sitting down to watch and review this film today. I assumed he was a real person and I was about to immerse myself in some biopic. I had no frame of reference whatsoever and couldn’t even tell you what decade I was getting myself into. I just wanted to catch a good flick and here I found myself. I wonder if my uneducated background on Wilson’s fight for the Afghan’s in the 1980s allowed me to focus on the film itself without any expectations, and without those expectations and with very little information beyond the actual film, I didn’t feel convinced. Hank’s as Wilson wasn’t bad as a character, and the film begins with a flashback from him receiving the top award a citizen can ever received as if this one event was his most successful in life. The film then flashes back to a buffoon of a congressman from Texas sitting in a hot tub in Vegas with a couple of strippers and some Cocaine, but by the end of the film the viewer’s are supposed to believe Wilson’s quasi-altruistic motives were genuine. I don’t think I was convinced.

I’ve rarely agreed with critics praise for Hanks and usually cannot forget it’s Tom Hanks playing an actor (Forrest Gump withstanding), and this film is exception. Hanks introduced as a womanizer, whiskey-guzzler from Texas was never forgotten by the viewer as he tramped around Afghanistan supposedly becoming affected by the warn torn (literally) children. But the only time I truly believed this was the purpose of Wilson’s quest was when he continually mentioned it to any congressman who had money as his disposal. 

A relatively elderly Ned Beatty looked withered and tired as if he were acting only for the check as a congressman dragged to Afghanistan with his wife. His performance was almost an afterthought that not even a Hilly Billy in West Virginia would remember, while Julia Robert’s Texan was played with similar banality. Her billing over Phillip Seymour Hoffman felt like a credit writer’s error.

And even though this film is up for a handful of Oscars and given Hoffman’s natural talents, I would argue that the two shining stars in this film were Hoffman as a CIA agent who claimed he only helped Wilson because he had nothing better to do, and Amy Adams who’s received more praise this year as a Disney princess thrust into the real world in Enchanted. Adams’ as the congressman’s administrative assistant finds herself in several questionable and not-so-questionable situations in the film from being surrounded by large breasted, small brained women working in Wilson’s office to traipsing about the Middle East with him. She added a sense of genuine dramatic artistry to the film, while Hoffman’s agent plays Hoffman as a relatively clandestine character as he so naturally and enjoyably does. So enjoyable he’s up for Best Supporting Actor in a tight race that’s focusing on Hal Holbrook’s 82 year-old under dog fighting against the larger than life Javier Bardem. But of the two, Adams’ steals the scene of supporting talent while finishing Julia Robert’s Joann’s martini while sitting with her two greyhounds while Hanks and Roberts strategically and sexually prepare to fund Charlie Wilson’s War.