"Dear God, I don't pray to you often, but I really really need to win the school election tomorrow... After all, I deserve it."

Tracy Flick kneels over her daisy-decorated sheets (which go perfectly with the rainbow-laden inspirational posters on her room walls), hands clasped together earnestly, praying--desperately pleading--for God to tamper with the minds of her high school classmates. It's a fitting conclusion to a vehemently ferocious, unfailingly smug and of course, utterly merciless campaign. Tracy Flick is the poster child for ambition.

Welcome to the subversive world of Alexander Payne's Election, brilliant--at times absolutely mind-blowing--parody of a morality tale. Payne's follow-up to the underrated (and far less subtle) Citizen Ruth is the first great movie of 1999. Buy your tickets now. Read this review later.

The terrific screenplay is based on former Harvard expository writing preceptor Tom Perrotta's novel of the same name. Perrotta's writing, crystal clear and incisive, wastes no time on frills; moves at full-speed with the full intention of causing a crash finish. Wisely, the filmmakers have stayed faithful to Perrotta's novel. After all, the storyline sets itself up for director Payne's satiric touch. At Carver High School, Tracy Flick (Reese Witherspoon) is the shoo-in for Student Council President. After all, everyone is afraid--terrified--to run against her. She's the ultimate overachiever--member of every club, top 10 of her class, etc. etc. But she's an overachieving overachiever--she sets up a booth just to get nomination signatures, has a mom who writes to Connie Chung for advice on her daughter's career, and has sex with the first "friend" she ever makes at Carver (oh, and this "friend?" He's a 40-year-old married math teacher). Tracy wants to win the election--has to win--because that's all she knows. That's how she lives life--chalking up victories and moving on to the mext contest (or creating them...).

Unfortunately, Mr. McAllister (Matthew Broderick) is the Student Govrenment Advisor. Let me reword: Mr. McAllister is the unfortunate Student Government advisor. As his life continually rams into dead-ends (i.e. he can't seem to get his wife pregnant), he can't help but resenting Tracy's naive ambition. So, as Tracy so eloquently puts it, it's natural for the "weak to sabotage the strong." Mr. McAllister's first move in the election chess game is to hire a pawn to run against Tracy--in this case, the white knight of Carver, popular jock Paul Metzel (Chris Klein). Tracy, of course, throws a fit, but even she can't keep up with the unfolding soap-operas--especially when Paul's lesbian younger sister jumps into the election fray as revenge for Paul's "stealing" her crush.

This school election suddenly turns into some-thing far nastier--a subversive parody of the American electoral process. Tracy wants to win for no other reason than to have another stepping stone to another contest (just like senators want to become vice-presidents, vice-presidents presidents, and presidents popular presidents). Paul is the people's choice--an unfit leader, a complete nincompoop--but the embodiment of American wholesomeness (insert various examples from the past decade here). And Tamil, Paul's sister, is the legitimate candidate. As she screams in her election speech, "No one cares about this stupid election." She wants people who won't vote anyway to vote for her--to prove that the election is a waste of time, a deluded and prosaic example of democracy in action. In a country where barely over 50 percent of the population votes, Tami's apathy is a way of life.

The election, then, becomes, a showdown with more than a presidency at a stake. Of course, Perrotta throws in hilarious subplots and side characters (like the bee who stings Mr. McAllister's eyelid) to keep the story from lagging but everything comes down to the election's final count. Who will win? Or rather, as Tracy puts it, who deserves to win? Or maybe, as Tami puts it, who cares?

The performances are fantastic. Witherspoon, proving herself the leader of the young Hollywood crew (if she had been running against a Katie Holmes overacheiver, she would stomp all over her), burns with her steely blue eyes (which tend to match her outfits) and pursed lips. Witherspoon wants Tracy to be a walking display of pyrotechnics--a winner at all costs. Broderick, as her nemesis, plays the hapless fool even better than he normal does. (Besides, we give him serious bonus points for having to walk around half the film with a bee-stung, infected eyelid).

But Payne and Perrotta are the true winners here. The latter's story opens the door for a number of equally subversive interpretations. Payne, mean-while, is a force to reckon with. He has a way of making every detail count--every shot is designed to probe closer into a particular character's head (even if it's Paul's empty one). With Citizen Ruth, Payne tackled abortion and he takes the middle ground again in Election.

Let's just hope that for his next Flick, he gives us a hero we can root for. Look for an interview with Election scribe Tom Perrotta in next week's Arts section.