Thank You for Smoking (2005)

Aaron Eckhart as the smooth- talking spin doctor Nick Naylor

An adaptation of Christopher Buckley's 1994 novel and a darling of the Sundance Film Festival, Thank You for Smoking is a slick, funny and intelligent satire with a break-through performance by Eckhart. First-time director Jason Reitman (son of Ivan) adopts a fresh satirical approach marked by self-referential filmmaking and irreverent touches reminiscent of Fight Club and Arrested Development. Scenes pause as diagrams and subtitles punch home the joke. Snarky narration by Naylor adds character and spark. Clever dialogue and wry observations hit their mark—skewering a culture in which everyone is selling something. Unfortunately, as the film continues, its somewhat bland and often ridiculous plot takes over—forcing the fresh touches to the background and nearly blunting the satirical points.

The film revolves around Nick's work as the spin doctor for the Academy of Tobacco Studies, an institution created by the major cigarette companies to deflect health concerns of their product. With teen smoking on the decline, the original Marlboro Man (Sam Elliott) dying of cancer, and a liberal senator (William H. Macy) campaigning to slap skull-and-crossbones stickers on cigarette boxes, Nick has a big challenge. But the obstacles don't stop there. Nick is also distracted by a Washington reporter (Katie Holmes), a death threat, and teaching his son Joey (Cameron Bright) about the world.

Even cancer patients are fodder for Nick in this satire

Thank You for Smoking is not truly about the tobacco industry. (Fun Fact: No one is shown smoking cigarettes.) Sure, the movie does lampoon Big Tobacco for knowing the truth about health risks and merely politicizing the argument and spinning research to stay in business. But tobacco really only serves as the stage on which to satirize our culture of public relations, political correctness, and spin. No one in the movie is without an agenda. Everyone has a personal self-serving purpose and they will do whatever they can to gain advantage. For instance, Nick goes on a talk show and turns an argument about killing underage smokers right back on the senator's assistant he's debating. When the political lackey goes back to his boss, he gets a lecture in selecting more pathetic "cancer boys" to pull in public sympathy. They need big sad eyes and wheelchairs, the senator explains.

Because everyone in the movie is working their own angles, it is interesting to observe two things: 1) How each character does it, and 2) what it means for truth and morals. Not every character manipulates opinion and truth the way Nick does. Instead, they each use their specific skills to achieve what they need. Nick uses his gift of argument. Holmes' reporter uses her body and sexuality. And a Hollywood assistant (wonderfully played by The OC's Adam Brody) uses a big grin, friendly demeanor, and fake charm. This paints a pretty sad portrait of our culture. Selfishness rules the day. The notion of "personal freedom" is repeatedly shown to be the biggest tool of anyone trying to push a particular—even harmful—platform. Morals, as Nick says, are "flexible"—if existent. And truth loses any real value when it can be manipulated and sold.

William H. Macy as a senator who wants to put poison labels on cigarette packs

The film clearly—and repeatedly—hammers home the point that in our culture, any viewpoint can be defended with the right tactics, regardless of truth or ethics. It's about how you sell it. It's a valid and thought-provoking idea—especially for believers of biblical truth. It challenges audiences to think about what methods and messages they're buying into. But Thank You's satire isn't much more directed or sharper than that. Some viewers may wish for a more focused attack on certain worldviews. Or for a cleaner understanding of exactly what the film is arguing. Or even for Nick Naylor or his adoring son to learn an ethical lesson. (In fact, the only lesson that Nick's son learns is to use his dad's methods to achieve what he wants.) But instead of picking apart one specific worldview or hammering home a redemptive storyline, Thank You chooses to be a character study of Nick as he figures out not whether he should be doing this, but why he does.

Some of the film's spinners really do believe in their causes. But Nick seems different. He often says that he does it in order to pay the mortgage—but also acknowledges that this is the perfect "yuppie Nuremburg defense" to get away with anything. In truth, he could do anything to pay the mortgage. Instead, Nick realizes that he argues for a living because he is good at it. It's his talent. And instead of using his gift for noble causes that a biblical worldview would advocate, Nick defends the very hardest thing to defend—cancer-inflicting products—because it is the steepest challenge he could find. And that challenge fulfills him. He declares, "Michael Jordan plays basketball. Charlie Manson kills people. I talk."

Just don't let him talk at your kids' Career Day.