Perhaps the smartest thing about “Dick” is the genuine affection it has for Betsy and Arlene. Contemporary reviews of the film have described them as bimbos and airheads and such, but, they’re just ordinary teenage girls—a bit giggly and silly, to be sure, but not dumb by any means. And the screenplay doesn’t treat them as such: they’re just at a point in adolescence where the issues of the world around them don’t have as much impact as the latest issue of Tiger Beat, The point is to see them gradually become smarter and more aware of their potential places in the world, without losing the sense of goofy effervescence that made them so appealing in the first place. This is the kind of character journey that Elle Woods would famously make in “Legally Blonde” (2001). Betsy and Arlene not only got to do the same thing a couple of years earlier, but they also got to bust out some swell roller disco moves in the process.
Perhaps in response to “Nixon”’s stacked cast, “Dick” also brings in a crop of great comedic performers and lets them riff on their real-life counterparts. Among the highlights are Harry Shearer’s maniacal caricature of Liddy and Dave Foley scoring big laughs as Haldeman. Then there’s Hedaya’s scene-stealing work as Nixon, a performance so funny and inspired that, in the pantheon of great Nixon performances, I’d put him second only to Phillip Baker Hall in Robert Altman’s “Secret Honor.”
But it’s Dunst and Williams’ lead performances that make “Dick” rise. By the time Dunst appeared here, she’d already more than held her own against powerhouse co-stars in films as varied as “Interview with the Vampire” (1994), “Little Women” (1994) and had shown a flair for comedy in the satires “Wag the Dog” (1997) and “Drop Dead Gorgeous” (1999). Williams, on the other hand, had fewer credits, and the ones that she did have—most notably her work on the hit series “Dawson’s Creek”—didn’t often give her many chances to cut loose. That said, they make for a genuinely sweet, engaging team.
The pair invest their roles with a kind of grounding that allows them to come across as recognizable people instead of mere bimbos. Take Arlene’s infatuation for Nixon: The conceit of a teenager fangirling over Richard Nixon is deeply silly, but Williams plays it with a real sense of conviction; it’s hilarious without ever tripping over into cruelty. When she holds up the microphone to Nixon’s tape recorder and delivers a rendition of Olivia Newton-John’s “I Honestly Love You,” it’s both side-splittingly funny and weirdly touching.