4 stars (out of four)
Coming into this movie, you may have your reservations. You may presume it has a certain amount of stuffiness that is reasonable to expect from a historical biography of Abraham Lincoln directed by Steven Spielberg (one of the few living directors who may end up getting his own biopic one day). But the air is soon cleared of most of that.
You may be relieved to find that Lincoln is not the story of a heroic figure, a demigod who ended the Civil War, freed the slaves and renewed the American Dream for millions. Lincoln instead tells the story of a man – the most unsavory kind of man too! a politician! – who worked hard to do all of the above long before the gloss of history transformed him into something greater than a man.
Abraham Lincoln, compassionately played here by Daniel Day-Lewis, is a sensitive man. He is intelligent, well read and well spoken. He has a gift for orating and bringing crowds of onlookers cheering to their feet. But his skills as a speaker are not limited to grand arenas where his voice rises in thrilling crescendos. He is just as capable performing for a smaller audience – and seems even to prefer it – quietly sharing amusing anecdotes with his cabinet, with soldiers, with whoever is there to listen.
He is humble but, being a man of great conviction, does not wear the power afforded him by his prestigious position lightly. He sees it as his responsibility and his sworn duty to fight for what he believes no matter how seemingly insurmountable the obstacles are that stand in his way.
And here I go hyperbolizing, no better than my old textbooks. Lincoln, however, offers something more interesting than blind hero worship.
This is a remarkably well-researched film, elegantly adapted by playwright Tony Kushner from the nonfiction book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin. Mr. Kushner’s script, marked by a persistent love of facts over melodramatic interpretations, will no doubt be adored by history buffs. But the film’s emphasis on the nuanced mechanisms of American politics serves a greater purpose. Lincoln depicts the president as a hard working politician who knew how to use the system to achieve his goals.
It is January 1865 and, two months after his reelection, Lincoln is in a position of considerable political power. The Civil War is winding down and his popularity in the Union ensures public support of just about any legislation he seeks to push through Congress. Against the better judgment of his cabinet, however, Lincoln sees a window of opportunity to fight for something riskier. Now is the time, he believes, to pass a thirteenth amendment to the Constitution, one that will abolish slavery.
The ambitiousness of this amendment is soon apparent when we meet the divided and bitterly partisan House of Representatives. The House chamber roils like the Colosseum as members of the Democratic opposition take to the floor for a series of vitriolic speeches condemning the amendment. Among the most vocal of them is Representative Fernando Wood (a fine Lee Pace), the de facto leader of the Democrats whose entertaining sermons paint Lincoln as a power-hungry tyrant who must be stopped at all costs.
Even Republicans in Lincoln’s own party are wary of fighting for the amendment now, when the end of the Civil War is so near. But if the Lincoln administration waits until after the War, the legality of the president’s Emancipation Proclamation, a temporary measure made possible by Lincoln’s war powers, may be called into question, and the fate of so many freed slaves would be uncertain.
So Lincoln must rely on unanimous support from Republicans in addition to flipping a few crucial votes of Democrats if he hopes pass the amendment. The fervent abolitionist and curmudgeonly old-timer (Tommy Lee Jones, who else?) Representative Thaddeus Stevens proves to be a useful ally. His sometimes crude and insult-laden tirades on the House floor help corral Republicans behind the cause.
Meanwhile, Secretary of State William Seward (David Strathairn) recruits a band of lobbyists (John Hawkes, Tim Blake Nelson and James Spader) to convert vulnerable Democrats by offering them cushy jobs in exchange for votes. Their attempts to do so, chronicled throughout the film in a series of farcical scenes, expose a much less romantic but no less important side to American politics. A vote procured through bribery is still a vote.
Though the nitty-gritty of the political process takes up the bulk of the film, Lincoln also reveals the president’s human side. Lincoln’s wife, Mary Todd (Sally Field), tormented by life in the White House, struggles to support her husband publicly though their marriage is in decline. Lincoln also tries to protect his son, Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), from the horrors of the War but the boy insists on enlisting, refusing to remain on the sidelines of history.
Captured in the sepia-tinged soft glow of Janusz Kamiński’s photography and accompanied by the strains of a typically powerful John Williams score, Lincoln has the look and feel of a film aiming for a level of prestige worthy of its subject. But the film’s excellence is not superficial. This beautifully crafted movie does not just recount history but pulls an absorbing story out of it and illuminates the past in vibrant, living detail. The final scenes drag on too long and give us more than we need but I'll forgive Mr. Spielberg a few grace notes following such a masterful symphony.
Anchored by a fully realized and wholly compelling performance, Lincoln presents not only a man who led according to the morals and convictions he held so deeply but a man who appreciated the imperfect system that allows an individual to fight for those morals. Watching the relentless feuding and mudslinging of the congressmen in this film, you may dismally conclude that though the contents of the debates have changed between 1865 and today, the tenor of Washington has not. But Lincoln is an ode to that messy and often frustrating democratic process and a tribute to one man who understood better than perhaps anyone how to achieve greatness with it.
Captured in the sepia-tinged soft glow of Janusz Kamiński’s photography and accompanied by the strains of a typically powerful John Williams score, Lincoln has the look and feel of a film aiming for a level of prestige worthy of its subject. But the film’s excellence is not superficial. This beautifully crafted movie does not just recount history but pulls an absorbing story out of it and illuminates the past in vibrant, living detail. The final scenes drag on too long and give us more than we need but I'll forgive Mr. Spielberg a few grace notes following such a masterful symphony.
Anchored by a fully realized and wholly compelling performance, Lincoln presents not only a man who led according to the morals and convictions he held so deeply but a man who appreciated the imperfect system that allows an individual to fight for those morals. Watching the relentless feuding and mudslinging of the congressmen in this film, you may dismally conclude that though the contents of the debates have changed between 1865 and today, the tenor of Washington has not. But Lincoln is an ode to that messy and often frustrating democratic process and a tribute to one man who understood better than perhaps anyone how to achieve greatness with it.
- Steven Avigliano, 11/23/12
