In the current political climate, Hollywood faces a daunting challenge: how to dramatise the creeping threat of autocracy in the United States without resorting to simplistic action tropes. This dilemma is starkly evident in Netflix's new thriller, Anniversary, which launched this week to a mixed reception. The film depicts a right-wing takeover of the US, inspired by a book of essays, but struggles to animate the tedious, bureaucratic realities that underpin such political shifts.
The Quiet Threat of Autocracy
As history and today's news cycle remind us, autocracy is not only dangerous but often boring. Beyond explosive confrontations, there are quieter threats: the seizure of voting records in Georgia or the implementation of lengthy manifestos from influential thinktanks like the Heritage Foundation. These processes lack the cinematic flair of blockbuster firefights, yet they represent the true mechanisms of democratic erosion. Anniversary attempts to bridge this gap by showing a beautiful young woman persuading America to abandon democracy through a stirring book of essays, a nod to real-world projects like Project 2025.
Anniversary's Strengths and Shortcomings
The film's first half, featuring Diane Lane as a centrist political scientist at Georgetown University, offers a compelling domestic drama with autocracy lurking at the edges. Its clever portrayal of an Orwellian assault on democracy—where language twists plurality into threats to "togetherness"—feels eerily credible. However, Anniversary loses patience with the finer details, skipping over how a bestseller leads to electoral collapse and instead opting for paramilitary chases and drone threats. This reflects a broader trend in Hollywood: prioritising spectacle over substance.
Comparing Political Thrillers
This issue isn't unique to Anniversary. Alex Garland's 2024 film Civil War imagines a US with seceded states and a strongman president, but its apolitical landscape feels like a dodge, especially when real events like the January 6 hearings were unfolding. The film's creative fatigue with political science mirrors a voter tendency to focus only on explosive moments. In contrast, Paul Thomas Anderson's Oscar-nominated One Battle After Another presents a brutal military establishment chasing "illegals," reflecting current border policies rather than a dystopian future. Sean Penn's performance as a psychopathic officer anticipates real figures, making the film's critique more immediate.
The Impact of Sketchy Details
Interestingly, Civil War, despite its flaws, has gained resonance as the US political landscape shifts. Initially, its vague details allowed viewers to dismiss it as implausible, but now its violence feels unsettlingly closer. This highlights a key problem: when films gloss over the bureaucratic steps to autocracy, they risk normalising or trivialising the threat. The success of adaptations like The Handmaid's Tale shows that meticulous world-building can make political horror more impactful.
Ultimately, Hollywood's struggle with Trump 2.0 isn't just about politics—it's an imaginative failure. As Anniversary and its peers demonstrate, capturing the tedious reality of democratic decline requires more than thrilling set pieces; it demands a deeper engagement with the mechanisms that quietly undermine faith in the process.
