The Devil Wears Brooks Brothers: Reflections on Roy Cohn in ‘The Apprentice’
Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice charts the tumultuous ascent of Donald Trump under the tutelage of Roy Cohn, whose devilish dial countenanced wiretappings, blackmail, and the electrocution of Ethel Rosenberg.
Cutting his teeth at the mere age of 24 with HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee) as Joseph McCarthy’s right-hand-man, Cohn went on to mix with motley circles, underground and neutron alike, ranging from President Richard Nixon to the Mafia boss Carlo Gambino.
Jeremy Strong’s Oscar-worthy performance as Cohn captures his serpentine nature. At the outset, the audience is greeted to Cohn’s laser-like gaze as he fixes his sights upon a nascent Donald Trump in an exclusive Manhattan speakeasy.
The unperturbable scrutiny of his eyes calls to mind a crocodilian fixated on its prospective prey - without feeling, without regard, concerned merely with maximising efficacy vis-à-vis a pre-determined end. The frequent flickering of the tongue and constant protrusion of the neck would be too on the nose if not for Strong’s effortless mastery of his craft.
Roy Cohn was a deeply conflicted figure. A jew whose ardent and outspoken McCarthyism made him suspect at best, if not persona non grata, amongst his co-ethnics in New York. A hypocritical homosexual, he blackmailed flagrante-prone politicians.
Despite it being an open secret that he was gay, Roy consistently was in denial - he belonged to the Gore Vidal school of bisexuality. In fact, during a televised verbal sparring match, the subject of which was the legacy of Senator Joseph McCarthy, Vidal scathingly referenced Cohn’s closeted sexuality.
Ever a faithful friend, Roger Stone said of Cohn:
“Roy was not gay…he was a man who liked having sex with men. Gays were weak, effeminate. He always seemed to have these young blond boys around. It just wasn’t discussed. He was interested in power and access. He told me his absolute goal was to die completely broke and owing millions to the I.R.S. He succeeded in that.”
A cursory glance at Roy’s conduct may lead one to believe he was motivated by insatiable cynicism, and to a great degree he was. Yet his enduring personal loyalties - particularly to McCarthy - and bona fide patriotism betray a more complex picture.
The audience is subject to a sorrowful scene of Cohn, near-death due to AIDS, crying before his birthday cake which is fashioned after the American flag - the inclusion of self-extinguishing sparklers, rather than candles which require one to blow them out, is a subtle nod to prevailing mis-perceptions, shared by Trump, regarding AIDs transmission.
Indubitably, Abbasi’s inclusion of the scene, the veracity of which I cannot attest to, serves as a censorious commentary on the life of a gay, jewish man whose conservative politics transgressed his own interests and well-being.
It may also be viewed in a different light - namely, as a critique of Americanism and its dual pillars of pleasure-seeking and ethnic-erasure. Roy basked in a libidinal life: his alcohol and pill fuelled orgiastic affairs, a Brooklyn parallel to the Babylonian Sacaea, were infamous.
When not indulging in carnality, Roy was scheming, plotting, and machinating. “Toward what end?” — well, to paraphrase the words of Mr. Cohn, to protect his favourite client: the United States of America.
And in furtherance of this object, he possessed no qualms concerning human suffering, even if those afflicted were co-ethnics. His inverted sexuality complimented his inverted morality and distorted notion of loyalty. Cohn’s tears are those of a man who has gained the world at the expense of dignity, progeny, morality, ethnos, parentage, and salvation.
Roy is the microcosm of America’s destiny. From Jeffersonian rusticity and isolationism to Pax Americana, the home of the brave abrogated the aforesaid virtues.
Roy, gazing tear-eyed at the cake, is examining his conscience; the fate of the stars and stripes, hedonic will-to-power, is his end — toward what end, what object? Nihil.
I leave you with Al Pacino’s monologue in his capacity as Cohn in Angels in America - partly for reasons of pertinence, partly because it’s rock 'n' roll.
"Yes. Yes. You have heard of Ethel Rosenberg. Yes. Maybe you even read about her in the history books. If it wasn't for me, Joe, Ethel Rosenberg would be alive today, writing some personal-advice column for Ms. magazine. She isn't. Because during the trial, Joe, I was on the phone every day, talking with the judge— Every day, doing what I do best, talking on the telephone, making sure that timid nebbish on the bench did his duty to America, to history. That sweet unprepossessing woman, two kids, boo-hoo-hoo, reminded us all of our little mamas—she came this close to getting life; I pleaded till I wept to put her in the chair. Me. I did that. I would have fucking pulled the switch if they'd have let me. Why? Because I fucking hate traitors. Because I fucking hate communists. Was it legal? Fuck legal. Am I a nice man? Fuck nice. They say terrible things about me in the Nation. Fuck the Nation. You want to be Nice, or you want to be Effective? Make the law, or subject to it. Choose."