‘The Apprentice’ movie review: Sebastian Stan and Jeremy Strong’s powerhouse bromance steals revolting origin story

Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice is a grim, disturbing yet enthralling ride through the early years of Donald Trump’s transformation from a brash, grasping real estate scion into the moral vacuum the world has come to know. But unlike the steady diet of headlines and scandals we’ve been fed for decades, The Apprentice tries to offer up something different: it’s not just about Trump, but rather a reflection on how power corrupts the corruptible, and how one man, with the right/wrong mentor, can turn ambition into moral rot.

Sebastian Stan takes on the daunting task of embodying the young Trump, long before the bloated caricature of campaign trails and Twitter tirades, and he does so with a cartoonish physicality. Stan captures Trump’s essence with unnerving accuracy, bringing to life the exaggerated pouting, simian hand movements and slack-jawed smirk. 

But it’s his portrayal of Trump’s emotional trajectory through which Stan captures the subtle unease of a man who, early on, hasn’t quite figured out who he is, but already knows he’s willing to break any rule to become somebody. That somebody just happens to be a figure who will haunt America’s political landscape for years to come.

The heart of the film is Trump’s relationship with Roy Cohn, the infamous lawyer who once helped send the Rosenbergs to the electric chair. Played with a chilling, reptilian intensity by Jeremy Strong (channelling the cold cunning of Waystar-Royco), Cohn slithers through the film as the real architect of Trump’s darker impulses. Virulently homophobic, Cohn sees in Trump a kindred spirit, someone willing to play dirty, lie, and cheat to get what he wants — and someone who, crucially, is too morally pliable to resist. 

A still from ‘The Apprentice’
| Photo Credit:
Briarcliff Entertainment

Beneath the power plays and cutthroat scheming, The Apprentice sneaks in their twisted bromance under the guise of a political biopic. Abbasi’s subtle suggestions paint their bond as something perversely intimate. Their partnership crackles with a kind of degenerate affection, a mutual recognition of shared depravity, where loyalty is defined by how far one is willing to sink. 

Scenes where the two of them plot, whisper, and connive are filled with the kind of oily camaraderie that makes your skin crawl, like watching Faust before he fully understands the deal he’s signed. There’s a subtle eroticism to their exchanges — a push and pull that’s not overt, but the charge lingers in their glances and quips, imbuing their corrupt partnership with a queasy, intimate heat. 

The performances are key to the film’s success. Strong’s Cohn is a study in manipulation and cynicism, his smooth, fake-tanned exterior barely concealing the roiling, bitter contempt beneath. Watching him blackmail judges, coach Trump on how to bully the press, or casually destroy lives feels disturbingly prescient. Stan, meanwhile, pulls off the incredible feat of making Trump’s early blundering feel almost pitiable… almost. It’s only when you see the glint of self-serving cruelty in his eyes that you remember exactly who you’re dealing with.

Abbasi’s directing style heightens the sense of unease that pervades The Apprentice. Known for his unflinching work in Holy Spider, Abbasi leans into his taste for the morbid. The New York of the 1970s is shown in all its grimy, glitzy sleaze — a playground for those who, like Trump, are eager to exploit its crumbling glamour for personal gain. Cinematographer Kasper Tuxen captures a city both decaying and dazzling, with shots of sewer steam mingling with the bright lights of Manhattan, mirroring the internal rot of its characters.

A still from ‘The Apprentice’
| Photo Credit:
Briarcliff Entertainment

The tight script injects humour into the proceedings, though it’s the kind of gallows humour that provokes muffled laughs. There’s something absurdly comic about seeing Trump agonise over his hair in the mirror, or being told by Cohn to dress in suits that hide his “big ass.” But the comedy only underscores the grotesquerie of the man being built before our eyes. Abbasi knows just when to let us laugh — and when to cut that laughter off with a brutal reminder of who we’re watching.

The film’s latter half does falter slightly as it leans too heavily into headline-grabbing moments. A highly publicized depiction of sexual assault involving Trump and his first wife, Ivana (Maria Bakalova), feels tonally jarring and takes away from the psychological complexity that Abbasi slowly builds towards in the film’s earlier sections.

But for all its macabre humour, The Apprentice isn’t content to be a simple portrait of a questionable man. It’s also a film about the creation of a myth — the carefully cultivated persona of Trump as a winner, a man who could do no wrong, even when he was doing everything wrong. It’s the ultimate rise-and-fall story, except Abbasi reminds us that Trump never really fell. The tragedy, as the film makes clear, is not Trump’s ascent — it’s that we were watching it happen all along, and never stopped it. And with Stan and Strong at the helm, Abbasi’s vision of the all-American nightmare that led us here is one that won’t soon be forgotten.

Initially slated for release today, The Apprentice has delayed its Indian theatrical release after last night’s uncut, uncensored special premiere