My friend was skeptical of these assertions. "What files?" she asked. "Weren't they all just creepily holding hands?"A quick Google search tested my memory. While Hillary was wearing a shade of blue (a turquoise button-up) my friend was right: the only thing she was holding was Chelsea's hand.I didn't think much of my misremembering until I re-watched the movie Primary Colors (1998) and actually came across those mysterious files. In the film, which is directed by Mike Nichols and based on Joe Klein's roman à clef of the same name, Emma Thompson plays Susan Stanton—the Hillary of the story. In the thinly veiled account of Bill Clinton's improbable rise to the presidency, Susan weathers her husband's storm of infidelities with a Lady Macbeth-like resolve. One night, however, Jack Stanton's behavior becomes insufferable, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, Susan breaks down in the arms of a campaign aide. At a staff meeting the following morning, the aide is shocked to see Susan completely composed in a tailored dark blue suit. She's holding a stack of files and inquiring about polling data.
In the nearly eight years since Hillary lost to Barack Obama in the Democratic Primary—during which she became Secretary of State, a viral meme, synonymous in some circles with the words "Benghazi" and "email server," winner, by a razor-thin margin, of the 2016 Iowa Democratic Presidential Caucus, and loser, by a big margin, of the New Hampshire primary—there have been a proliferation of Hillaryesque characters. Some of these impressions—in Political Animals and Madam Secretary, for example—are idealized versions of Clinton. These Hillarys are seemingly stronger, savvier, more palatable, and, yes, sexier than real-life HRC—the Hillary some wish existed; the Hillary who embodies the virtues recognized by her supporters. Others, like Robin Wright's Claire Underwood in House of Cards—who is not a Clinton clone—are more nuanced: they are messy, imperfect, and morally corruptible. Depending on your opinion of Clinton, you might prefer fictional Hillary—especially the naughtier imprints—because they offer an interiority and complexity that the candidate, by virtue of her career, cannot provide. I'd go so far as to say the finest performances make Hillary, who has struggled her entire public life with appearing authentic, seem more real.In the course of eight years, Hillary became Secretary of State, a viral meme, and synonymous in some circles with the words "Benghazi" and "email server."
The 1992 Campaign
To many, Hillary Clinton had become, as reporter David Shribman observed in a Wall Street Journal article, "the major weapon" in Bill's campaign. "To a large degree, the fate of Mr. Clinton's political ambition rests in the hands of his blunt, strong-willed and, critics say, strident wife," Shribman wrote in January 1992. But by April, about as many people had an unfavorable impression (40 percent) of Hillary as a favorable one (38 percent), according to a Gallup poll. (Unfavorable impressions of her increased 14 points in May after the "cookies" remark.) To some, Hillary was a weapon; to others, she was a liability.Many had a hard time reconciling how Hillary could at once dismiss "standing by your man" and do just that: insist we give her husband the benefit of the doubt in the wake of his infidelities (or "marital difficulties") because she did. "It would be much easier for her to play the role of the bitch or the scorned woman," Hillary's friend Connie Fails told a Washington Post reporter in 1992. "That's the pattern that women my age learn, what TV and the movies tell us is the position a woman should take."You know I'm not sitting here like some little woman standing by my man like Tammy Wynette. I'm sitting here because I love him, and I respect him, and I honor what he's been through and what we've been through together. And if that's not enough for people then heck, don't vote for him.
Interestingly, a movie—Primary Colors—takes a close look at the very position Fails describes. One particular scene makes sense of an impossible situation—not being Tammy Wynette but standing by your man—as the film's Hillary character deals with her husband's philandering. In the scene, Susan sits at her kitchen table with Jack (John Travolta) and campaign operative Libby Holden (Kathy Bates), who is supposed to be Betsey Wright, Clinton's gubernatorial chief of staff and a key aide in the 1992 campaign. Wright coined the phrase "bimbo eruptions," referring to claims made by women that they slept with Bill Clinton—or, in some cases, were assaulted by him. Libby refuses to go negative on a candidate she believes is a decent man, and when the Stantons insist she sling mud, she turns the situation around. She reveals Jack slept with the babysitter and threatens to give the press this information. "You would do that? You would end his political career?" Susan asks, visibly shaken. Libby's matter-of-fact response is revealing.It would be much easier for her to play the role of the bitch or the scorned woman.
You see, Jack. She hasn't even heard. She isn't even upset that you fucked your 17-year-old babysitter. And you know why? It's never the cheat who goes to hell. It's always the one he cheated on. That's why you still talk in that tenderhearted voice about being in it for the folks, and Susie here can only talk in that voice from hell about your political career. Now what kind of shit is that, Jack?
First Ladyship
The accumulation of scandals and damaging reports, however ludicrous (like the "Clinton Body Count," which posited, for example, that Vince Foster was murdered because he was having an affair with Hillary), combined with the failure to reform health care, contributed to the Democrats losing both the Senate and the House in November 1994. Hillary received some of the blame and was forced to rethink her first ladyship. In Clinton, political strategist Dick Morris, who had advised Bill on and off since the late 1970s, recalls telling Hillary, "You can be as influential as you want to be, but do it in private… In the bedroom at night, tell him what to do. But don't let it be seen in public."You can be as influential as you want to be, but do it in private… In the bedroom at night, tell him what to do. But don't let it be seen in public.
In Shonda Rhimes's Scandal, former First Lady Mellie Grant (Bellamy Young), now running for president in the show's sixth season, doesn't so much walk out of the White House as get thrown out: when her husband, President Fitzgerald Grant, decides to end their "arrangement," she gets the boot. Mellie, who became a senator while still first lady, is made from the mold of Hillary: she left her job as a high-powered attorney to marry, have kids, and prop up her husband as he pursued the presidency. Often stifled, pushed aide, humiliated, and manipulated—she manipulates too—Mellie never loses perspective. "I'll tell you something, when a woman is president, they'll suddenly make first lady an official paid position," she says in season four. "The minute a man has to do it, it'll become a real job." It's a great line—one that makes you think how the position might change if Bill Clinton becomes the first first gentleman.Aaron Sorkin's near-perfect West Wing (the first three seasons at least) is more realistic than Scandal and certainly less nihilistic than House of Cards. Its first lady, Abigail Bartlet (Stockard Channing), plays an important though intermittent role in series. She both attended and taught at Harvard—Claire and Mellie went to Harvard too!—and is a world-class thoracic surgeon. Like other Hillary likenesses, she cut short her career to accommodate her husband's political life. Abbey is Sorkin's first lady wish fulfillment: She's modern enough to posses a medical degree but traditional enough, like Nancy Reagan or the Bush wives, to fulfill first lady duties and support her husband Jed (Martin Sheen).When a woman is president, they'll suddenly make first lady an official paid position. The minute a man has to do it, it'll become a real job.
It reminds us of the tumultuous relationship Hillary Clinton has had with her maiden name "Rodham." As the first lady of Arkansas, she initially refused to adopt Bill's last name and went by Hillary Rodham. According to a New York Times op-ed, this ostensibly feminist act "rankled" many voters from the get-go, and Hillary eventually dropped Rodham for Clinton during Bill's second stint as governor.Oliver: Mrs. Bartlet, I want to talk to you about…
Abbey: Dr. Bartlet. When did I stop being "Dr." Bartlet? When in the campaign did I decide that women were going to like me more if I called myself "Mrs."? When did I decide that women were that stupid?
Senator, Secretary of State, Contender
For those who admire Clinton, Elaine is the ultimate alt-Hillary: She is tough but graceful, smart but never off-putting, and gorgeous. "At stake here is whether we know how to admire a powerful woman who isn't also a 10," wrote Katy Waldman in the piece "Political Animals Shouldn't Have Made Hillary Hot" for Slate. "Viewers may no longer regard a lovely face as sufficient ground for respect, but that doesn't mean it's not a prerequisite."It's certainly a prerequisite on Madam Secretary (2014– ), in which the stunning Téa Leoni plays a sort of Hillary-Madeleine-Condi composite named Bess McCord: She is supposed to be a fish out of water, coming to the top job from the world of academia. Showrunner Barbara Hall has said Hillary is not the sole inspiration for Bess McCord, though the series was born while Hall watched the Benghazi hearings and wondered what was going through Hillary's mind. The second episode of the series is called "Another Benghazi."It is a tribute to politicians like Mrs. Clinton, but it's both sides. It's the light and the dark.
Both Political Animals and Madam Secretary present a world in which the public has a very clear understanding—not to mention a favorable opinion—of their Hillarys. That's not so much the case in real life. You may not like Hillary, but you probably don't feel like you really know the "real" person. As Clinton told NBC in 2007, "As someone close to me once said, 'I'm probably the most famous person you don't really know.'" While it's universally understood that she's smart, outspoken, and hard driving, there are other things—her evasiveness, her ambition, her integrity, her marriage to Bill (for years she has been accused of being a lesbian, for instance)—that are murky and hard to reconcile.Last July, Mark Leibovich scored a rare interview with the Democratic frontrunner for his profile, "Re-Re-Re-Reintroducing Hillary Clinton." In it, he writes that for years, Hillary's family and friends wished that people could see the "Hillary They Knew"—the Hillary few see. These Hillarys have included "the great boss" and even "the chatty girlfriend." The real Hillary.The problem is there is no real Hillary: She is as constructed as Susan Stanton and Claire Underwood and Elaine Barrish—to have lived so many lives and survived so many scandals, you'd have to be. But does any politician have a real self? Would any politician dare reveal that real self? (Would we ask so much of them?)The ongoing issue of Clinton's likability—and the apparent need for likable Hillary likenesses, such as Susan Stanton, Abbey Bartlet, and Elaine Barrish—suggests that in female candidates, we seek ideal women who behave in ideal ways. (Bernie Sanders has been able to capitalize on being a curmudgeon; Donald Trump has created an entire campaign out of being a bully.)In a brilliant SNL sketch featuring Kate McKinnon as Hillary, and the real Hillary as a bartender named Val, Hillary Clinton spoofs her own likability.At one point, McKinnon turns to Val and tells her she's cool and easy to talk to. "That's the first time I've ever heard that," Clinton, as Val, says."I wish you could be president," McKinnon adds."Me too," Clinton deadpans.I'm probably the most famous person you don't really know.