Director Armando Iannucci described "In the Loop", a spinoff of his BBC series "The Thick of It", as an "anti-West Wing" in that it presents political bustle without the glamour of idealism.
I, however, think it shares a closer analogue with another television series, The Office.
It's hard not to think of Ricky Gervais' landmark series as hand-held cameras zip through the offices of staffers and low-ranking members of both the British and American governments.
The film's protagonist, Minister of International Development Simon Foster (Tom Hollander), suffers from the same foot-in-mouth disease that perennially hampered David Brent.
Of course, when Brent fouled up, he didn't aid the start of the Iraq War.
Foster set off a media storm when he said in an interview that the possibility of an upcoming war in Iraq is "unforeseeable."
He immediately reports to Director of Communications Malcolm Turner (Peter Capaldi), a blisteringly profane Scot who informs Foster of his error.
So Foster should have said war was foreseeable, then?
Well, no. Poor Simon never finds out what he should have said, but Malcolm will make damn sure that Foster says it.
The Prime Minister dispatches Foster to the U.S. to discuss the war with American strategists and to determine what course of action the U.S. will take.
When he arrives with his sarcastic, but obsequious assistant Toby (Chris Addison), Simon finds himself even more out of his depth than usual. Soon, he's manipulated to fit the agenda of both the British government and a group of anti-war officials within the U.S. government, led by Assistant Secretary of State Karen Clarke (Mimi Kennedy).
If Iannucci and his team of writers aimed to remove the optimism of The West Wing, they filled the cracks with bleak and biting satire.
When Linton Barwick (David Rasche), another assistant secretary of state, receives the notes from Clarke's meeting with the British, he completely rewrites the notes to omit the opposition voiced against the invasion and comes up with an entirely positive new version, fixating on Simon's inane mumbling about "climbing the mountain of victory" as a catchphrase for the invasion.
Unlike the other characters, Barwick disdains swearing and makes a point never to curse or even raise his voice.
Yet the eagerness with which he pursues an invasion without a second thought to the human cost makes him by far the most offensive character.
But what makes "In the Loop" so great isn't the message, it's the dialogue; lines fly as though someone played a Sorkin show on fast-forward.
It's a bellyaching, borderline poetic rush of swearing and vitriol and pettiness, and it underscores the dark absurdity of the invasion.
Tucker's insults are such a lyrical jumble of pop culture references and unspeakable vulgarity delivered in a nearly incomprehensible brogue that you almost want to close your eyes and sway to the rhythm of its perverse musicality.
Iannucci does manage to splash some cold water on us at the end, not through proselytizing, but with a stark reminder that this, or something like it, actually happened.
He never tells us why Barwick is so gung-ho for the war, but then we never got a good reason in real life, either.
It's a sobering finale that makes you wonder if the writers had to stretch the truth far to get this farce.
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