In May, after I saw and reviewed the how-Donald-Trump-learned-to-be-Donald-Trump biopic “The Apprentice” at the Cannes Film Festival, I had dinner with a group of very sharp-minded film folks, and we all agreed that the movie, if treated with the right marketing savvy, had the potential to make a splash. A few days later, I woke up from that delusion and realized that it had been a case of festival fever.
It struck me that since we had been living — for eight years — in a state of perpetual Donald Trump overkill, a drama about Trump’s salad days, when he learned how to lie, cheat and steal from the
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