American Dreamz: Apolitical, political satire

Everyone’s gotta have….

American Idol?

In the early 2000s, in the wake of 9/11 and during the peak of American jingoism, one of the biggest TV shows of all time burst on to the world stage. That show was American Idol, a show with the stated premise of bringing a new pop icon to the people of America each every season.

The show was made up of three judges: Paula Abdul (a former pop diva), Randy Jackson (no relation to the Jackson family), and the breakout personality of the show, the blunt and brutal, Simon Cowell. They would judge the preliminaries and the main show but there was a twist. Viewers were also allowed to vote on who would become the next star along with the hosts. Over the years, names such as Ruben Studdard, Clay Aiken, Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Hudson, and Fantasia all found their starts on American Idol.

Within the realm of reality TV, American Idol’s impact cannot be overstated. Much of its legacy remains ingrained in popular culture, not to mention its numerous spin-offs such as American Juniors, American Idol Rewind, American Idol Extra, and The Next Great American Band. Additionally, countless TV shows such as X-Factor and The Voice, were directly inspired by its success. While talent competitions weren’t entirely new, American Idol dominated the airwaves for years, only being supplanted by major sporting events in viewership.

Over time, the show has expanded its roster of judges and guest hosts, featuring everyone from Ellen DeGeneres and Mariah Carey to Nicki Minaj, Lionel Richie, and even Harry Connick Jr. American Idol initially ran from June 2002 until April 2016 before going on hiatus for two years. It later returned and is currently airing on ABC.

The Dream?

American Dreams is a 2006 film directed, produced, and written by Paul Weitz, whose most notable credits include American Pie and the Chris Rock-led project, Down to Earth.

In recent years, it has been said that parodying American politics has become difficult because things have gotten so incredibly absurd. While this observation is not incorrect, it could be argued that the decay of the contemporary political world did not begin with Trump in 2016 but rather with Bush in the 2000s.

At the time, the Bush-era seemed like the “most debased, dumb” period in history. This was the era when the movie Idiocracy was released, which itself served as a parody of “social collapse” and the deprioritization of intellectualism. It was a time marked by the spread of anti-intellectual thought, conspiracism, and truly unfathomable levels of corruption—both brazen and hidden.

Yet, with the seeming acceleration of societal collapse in the current political landscape of the West, the conception of America in American Dreams now appears almost naive. Scenes like the president appearing on a television show where a veteran blows themselves up feel less comedic and more prescient in a time when American veterans are setting themselves on fire to protest the various genocides America is conducting, and the American president is essentially a television star.

The happy ending of American Dreams, in which the president reads the newspaper and appoints his wife as his chief of staff, is, on one hand, a surprising display of positive nepotism. At the same time, without the context of the Trump presidency in 2016, it might have seemed somewhat prescient—if not a little heavy-handed. But with another presidency under his belt, who’s to say that Trump wouldn’t put one of his kids in an official seat of power?

Omar the Oaf

Omar stands out as one of the more intriguing characters in the film. A good-natured Arab man in a film released around the same time as Borat, he is presented in a similarly comedic, if not even more overtly genial, manner. With his heavily accented English, exaggerated pratfalls, and slapstick humor, he embodies the role of a good-hearted, well-meaning oaf.

Omar’s characterization makes his affiliation with an unspecified jihadist organization particularly notable.

In action films, the various militias and antagonistic forces that become targets of American imperialism and violence are often portrayed as hyper-competent or, at the very least, capable enough to pose a significant threat to the U.S. In comedies, however, the inverse is usually true: anti-American forces are depicted as overwhelmingly incompetent. In American Dreamz, the only one of these groups the audience sees is loosely based on Al-Qaeda and recruits indiscriminately from the local population—for better or worse. Since the film aims to be a comedy, this lack of selectivity is evident in the nameless jihadist organization to which Omar belongs.

Throughout the film, Omar transitions from a hapless outcast within the terrorist organization to the most talented member of his family. Guided by his effete cousin Iqbal, who also serves as his manager, he remains susceptible to the coercion of the terrorist group. Simultaneously, he is portrayed as a fully realized character—capable of experiencing fear, joy, and personal growth. Despite his involvement with the organization, he is ultimately framed as a well-meaning, likable figure, fulfilling a tokenized yet sympathetic role.

His background before arriving in America further adds to the complexity of his character. His fluency in English is never directly addressed, implying that he possessed a high level of proficiency before immigrating. In many regions presumed to be analogous to his home country, English fluency is often a privilege associated with wealth or education. This detail complicates his decision to align with a terrorist organization, as such a background suggests access to opportunities beyond radicalization. The notion that someone with his skills and education would turn to terrorism challenges the simplistic portrayal of ideological extremism as a matter of poverty or lack of alternatives.

While the film does not seek to provide a deep moral or psychological analysis of Omar, his role as the primary representative of both the terrorist organization and the broader Arab population remains significant. His status as a “terrorist” is paradoxical, as he never engages in any acts of terror.

This contradiction is most evident in the film’s climax. When expected to carry out a suicide bombing, he instead discards the explosives, delivers a show-stopping musical performance, and wins over both his audience and the terrorists watching from afar. His actions evoke an emotional response, moving his supposed comrades to tears and ultimately allowing him to escape any real consequences.

But was he a terrorist? He never engaged in any terrorist acts, he never seemed especially bothered by anything. What was Omar’s moral compulsion to join? Did he care that his country was being invaded? Did he care about the women, children, men, friends, and families being bombed and destroyed by an American president who, within the universe of this movie, can’t even be asked to read a newspaper? Did he care at all? He may have been incompetent as an active fighter, but he could have been a doctor, a translator, or a part of the organization’s media arm. But he doesn’t. Once he is out of the loop of the terrorists, he becomes an American in every meaningful way. His epilogue is him singing Greased Lightning on Broadway.

It’s interesting, especially for the time period, that Omar was portrayed the way he was. Not necessarily as a political statement, but more as a homunculus—activated when the plot needs him to be a “terrorist” but never really being one. He is, fundamentally, a “good boy.” This, of course, reinforces the idea that the “real” terrorists must be bad. There is one whose name is literally “The Torturer,” but why are these terrorists, terrorists? Again, this is a comedy movie, so the question is never explored. It’s just shorthand: these are the bad guys. And when you start thinking too much about why these people are bad, contradictions arise.

To be clear, many state-designated terrorist organizations are undeniably evil. But, just as many are motivated by resistance against American imperialism. As the old saying goes, “One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.” So what, aside from fear, actually motivated Omar throughout the movie? What made him him? What was his American Dream, really?

The Legacy of American Dreamz

It feels strange to write about a movie like American Dreamz in any year other than the one in which it was released.

The film’s climax revolves around a George W. Bush analog being booked for an American Idol-style competition, complete with a pastiche of Simon Cowell, a farmer’s daughter who turns out to be evil, and a jihadist with a heart of gold—who, of course, is trained to sing by his flamboyantly theatrical cousin.

People often say, Oh, this movie could never be made today. But this is a movie that truly could not be made today—not because of its offensive content, but because so much of it is inextricably tied to the time period in which it was released. When was the last time American Idol, The Voice, or The X Factor were relevant cultural touchstones? When was the last time anyone seriously discussed Simon Cowell or his British sarcasm, once read as performative cruelty?

The “War on Terror” rhetoric is still present in modern discourse, but if the current American presidential landscape were to be translated into a satirical character, there would be two options: either a doddering old man more akin to Mr. Magoo than a statesman, or a depraved criminal scammer whose “real” persona is so absurd that parodying him would be virtually impossible.

The term legacy feels too lofty for a movie like this—one too afraid to portray its Bush analog as evil, settling instead for making him merely dumb. At the time, every media property that critiqued Bush settled on dumb as the defining trait. Yes, he had verbal gaffes. Yes, he mispronounced words. But he wasn’t just dumb—he was evil. So much of the media landscape was willing to downplay how bad he was by shifting the blame to his cabinet, treating figures like Dick Cheney and Karl Rove as the true puppet masters. But that’s not the full picture. Everything that has since emerged about Bush’s presidency suggests that he was committed to his own malevolence—he was the last decision-maker, not just a bumbling figurehead.

And that’s what makes the Bush pastiche in this movie so toothless. He’s just a dumb guy. It’s another reason the film is ultimately forgettable—a fleeting snapshot of its time rather than a work with lasting impact.

The legacy of American Dreamz can only be defined by the fact that no one really thinks about American Dreamz. It is as forgettable, as cynical, and as hollow as its politics. It attempts social commentary, something about the American Dream, something about media manipulation, something about the nature of self, and something about isn’t it funny how much people care about unimportant stuff. But in the end, it doesn’t really say anything at all.

What do you think? Leave a comment.