‘THE APPRENTICE’ Reveals Young Donald Trump: Ambition, Power, and Moral Vacuousness

There is perhaps no person living or dead more polarizing than Donald J. Trump. His adoring fans think of the real estate mogul turned controversial politician as a strongman and a patriot, some even going so far as to call him the second coming of Jesus Christ. His many detractors find his rejection of political decency, frequent illegal dealings, and blatant disrespect for tradition to be a pox on American politics and a disturbing portrait of capital-C capitalism. This is the same man who proudly stated, “I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose voters,” and he’s not wrong. Even after 34 felony indictments and being found guilty of rape, the man’s popularity amongst his rabid base only grew. For whatever reason, a particular type of people just seem to love Trump, and quite literally nothing he says or does seems to shift that sentiment.

Enter The Apprentice, a “coming-of-rage” story about the making of the Donald Trump we know today under the tutelage of the controversial legal figure Roy Cohn. Leave it to Iranian-Danish filmmaker Ali Abbasi to take on a figure who’s been a fixture not just in American political life, but on the world stage for over a decade, and attempt to condense his story into a biopic with a two-hour runtime. Working from Gabriel Sherman’s (Independence Day: Resurgence) script, Abbasi’s film centers this one pivotal relationship—between an up-and-coming Trump and smily, well-connected fixer Cohn—as the focal point, charting a course for how Trump the aspiring mogul traded decency for expediency under Cohn’s watchful eye.

A young Donald, played convincingly by Sebastian Stan in a flaxen hairpiece doing a lot of heavy lifting, first meets Cohn at a Manhattan dinner club. The year is 1973, and the aspiring business mogul is battling a federal lawsuit for alleged racial discrimination practices at his property developments in New York City. The younger Donald admits that paying the suit could bankrupt his development business, but Cohn, in a chilling turn by Jeremy Strong, offers some unconventional wisdom: not only should Trump not admit wrongdoing, he should strike back at the government and countersue them. Using his extensive network of connections, closets of blackmail, and vicious political tactics, Cohn becomes Trump’s unlikely mentor, teaching him how to operate in a world where morals are an illusion and nothing matters but power and winning.

Cohn’s three rules of operating become a mantra that Trump embodies as if they were etched onto his heart. Rule 1: Attack attack attack. Always keep on the offense. Catch your opposition off guard, and do not allow them room to breathe. Rule 2: Truth doesn’t exist. Deny everything, admit nothing. If the facts don’t align with your expected outcome, come up with your own facts. Humans are fallible, corruptible, and that fallibility can be played like a fiddle. Alternative facts are as powerful as capital-T truth once you’ve undermined the concept of truth itself. Rule 3: Always claim victory. Never admit defeat. Before something has the chance to go sideways, declare that it’s already won. Tell reporters that a key deal is already signed to pressure your partners into compliance. If you don’t like the results of something (say, an election), just pretend it was illegitimate in the first place.

If this all sounds familiar, it’s because we’ve seen these tactics unfold week after week, month after month, year after year, as Donald Trump has become a fixture of American life. While his antics in real life are often exhausting for those who reject his morally repugnant tact, Abbasi’s film makes a convincing argument that powerful men are always made in the image of some other figure. Here, Cohn is a devil of his own making—grim, slippery, unknowable. Marrying his snake-oil approach to winning with Trump’s charisma and grandiosity makes for a deadly combination. Abbasi wisely makes this the story—not Trump’s rise to political power—and lays bare the gross origin story of perhaps the most American man of all.

The intense focus on Trump and Cohn leaves other areas—like his whirlwind family life and relationship with Ivana (Maria Bakalova)—feeling decidedly patchy. His rough, expectant father Fred (Martin Donovan) and black sheep brother Freddy (Charlie Carrick) are presented in broad strokes, glossing over the infamous in-family politics, bullying, and inner turmoil familiar to anyone who has read about the Trump dynasty. Even a scene involving the on-screen sexual assault of Ivana is downplayed and kind of just there, leaving their complex and volatile relationship frustratingly under-explored, which is a shame as Bakalova is quite good here.

Meanwhile, the political insiders floating in and out of Trump’s circle —Roger Stone (Mark Rendall), Rupert Murdoch, and Roger Ailes— seem like Easter eggs for the politically savvy, hinting at Trump’s future presidential ambitions. These one-dimensional detours add little depth to the overall story, cramming too many pieces into an already overflowing narrative. What we’re left with isn’t so much an unveiling of some hidden truth about Donald Trump – as we’ve all come to know the man, for better or worse – but rather an origin story of his moral corruption. The Apprentice is not likely to sway any voters come November, but it offers a curious glimpse into the origins of mindset of one of America’s most notorious figures.

CONCLUSION: This biopic of Donald Trump’s early years wisely focuses on his time as the eager protégé of the infamous Roy Cohn, though condensing such a sprawling story into two hours proves challenging. Still, Sebastian Stan and Jeremy Strong make for a compelling duo, capturing the early development of the ruthless instinct that would shape Trump into the man we know today.