Did you want proof that George W. Bush and the Republicans didn't win the 2000 election? We're not talking the obvious legal shenanigans or the popular vote count or even the un-recounted ballots or legal voters thrown off the rolls for sounding like criminals, though Recount (airing May 25 on HBO) makes it clear that there was plenty of that around, too. To its credit, what Recount also offers is a convincing case that Bush didn't so much win as Al Gore and the Democrats lost, and by their own hands. Even better is that the film graciously makes the minutiae of political campaigns and legal strategizing seem way more exciting than it actually is, delivering a completely nerdgasm-y adrenaline rush within the first 10 minutes as everyone runs around spastically shouting about Jews in Palm Beach County mistakenly voting for Pat Buchanan, the networks' count vs. the AP count, and dozens of other related and unrelated numbers and statistics.

Basically, the most senior Democrats in the campaign (Al Gore, shown in archival footage, Bill Daley, played by Mitch Pileggi, and Warren Christopher, played by John Hurt) are portrayed as ball-less wonders, far more concerned with their employability in the pending Republican administration (and with it their role in some sort of newfangled ideal of American democracy) than with winning and keeping the Republican hordes from descending on Washington—which is probably why none of them really like the movie.

By comparison, the major Republicans (James Baker, played by Brit Tom Wilkinson, and evil Patton Boggs lawyer Ben Ginsberg, played by the inappropriately mild-mannered Bob Balaban) are portrayed as true balls-to-the-wall believers in their guy as well as the importance to the American political system of fighting for the victory they're certain they'd already achieved. The only weak part of the Republican steamroller in Florida was the incompetent and likely batshit-crazy Secretary of State Kitty Harris (played by the too-tall Laura Dern), who is led by the nose by her Bible, a Republican lobbyist, and an oft-exasperated looking underling, Clay Roberts, portrayed in Southern-gentlemanly splendor by pudgy Canadian Gary Basaraba.

The only real Democratic opposition in Florida is spearheaded by fired-and-rehired Gore staffer Ron Klain (Kevin Spacey) and Democratic strategist Michael Whouley (Denis Leary), both of whom, despite every indication that the race is going to become a court battle, are stymied by Christopher's polite diplomacy-and-compromise plans. By the time Christopher and Daley bailed for California and D.C., respectively, and let Klain and Whouley have free reign to get to lawyer-ing, it was essentially too late to mount the massive legal and logistical effort that would've been needed to do anything constructive (or successful) in Florida.

The movie successfully catalogs the ups and downs of the post-election season in Florida, mostly from Klain's perspective—from the betrayals of fellow Democrats to legal victories and even more setbacks—and contrasts their shoe-string operation with the professional, well-funded, grassroots-importing operation run by the Republicans. Even if it's not exactly as even-handed a portrayal as the filmmakers might want you to believe, it puts more than a sheen of verisimilitude onto the long-held impression among political insiders that Al Gore's half-hearted efforts to be a well-liked loser rather than a despised winner had a lot more to do with Bush's rise to power than a lot of Democrats would like the American public to believe.