There are movies that make a good impression on people when they first come out in theaters and even on home video not long thereafter. They are reviewed well and do well at the box-office, but are later consigned to cable television obscurity and are only remembered by ardent film buffs. Then are also movies that are well-regarded, embraced by audiences and critics alike, and which are remembered kindly by many members of the public long after they have left theaters.
Then, there are the classics.
These are films that, no matter how many years pass, survive the test of time, films which are not only respected but are revered because they are so well-made that they transcend constraints of time, budget and quirks of any one performer or filmmaker. I like to think that a lot of films I regard well fit this bill, and I would also like to think Steven Spielberg's Civil War epic Lincoln is exactly the kind of film historians will be talking about decades from now when they talk about how movies should be made. This movie is epic in every sense of the word.
Rather than spanning the entire life of the 16th President of the United States of America or even the over four years of civil war that nearly ripped the country apart around the middle of the 19th century, the film focuses on one pivotal point in that war, specifically January 1865, when the United States Congress was set to vote on the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which would abolish slavery.
President Abraham Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis) had previously emancipated the slaves in 1863, but this was through a declaration of an executive in his capacity as commander-in-chief (Lincoln admits in the film that one way of looking at his proclamation was a confiscation of the property of the rebelling Southerners) and it was widely anticipated that this action would be invalidated by the civil courts, which made it indispensable to enshrine abolition in no less than the fundamental law. However, the task of securing the votes needed to pass the amendment was monumental considering that, apart from several trusted members of Lincoln's Republican Party, including hardcore abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones), there were nowhere near enough congressmen whose vote Lincoln could count on for the measure. It is initially argued that the amendment could destroy the pillars of the Southern economy and end the war, but when the President learns that, with or without the amendment, the South is already interested in negotiating for peace, he fears that the opportunity to enshrine the amendment in the Constitution and thereby eradicate slavery for all time may pass, and never come again. He then realizes he is in a race against time to get the amendment approved by Congress, and he has to resort to every trick in the politician's playbook to get the votes he needs by the end of January.
Though this is the first time director Steven Spielberg and lead actor Daniel Day-Lewis have worked together, there is one thing the two men have in common that made this collaboration one for the ages; if neither of them had ever made this film they would already both be regarded as all-time greats in their respective fields. These are men whose legacy in the film industry as legends is completely secure. That they therefore took the time and effort to come up with this masterpiece is something for which I, for one, will be eternally grateful. I haven't followed that much of Day-Lewis' work, but as someone who has seen the majority of Steven Spielberg's films over the last three decades I would like to opine that this is one of his best.
Spielberg, working off a script by Tony Kushner, (who reportedly fudged some facts, as reported by, among others, writer Maureen Dowd), told the story of a leader who had seen his character tested to its very limits by a war that nearly ripped his country apart, and who still managed to do what was right rather than resort to what was easy. The film is utterly compelling because of the dimensions it gives the late President Lincoln. This was a man who was willing to buy votes of Congressmen who did not see eye to eye with him, a man who threatened to throw his wife (Sally Field, also in an inspired performance) in an insane asylum after she grieved for the loss of their son, and who was willing to stop his own son from enlisting in the army while multitudes of fathers were losing their sons to the war. In short, this was a very human portrayal of a man often regarded as a larger-than-life figure. Spielberg is in top form here, as are his usual collaborators like composer John Williams, whose noble brass cues are the perfect underscore for a film that deals with lofty concepts like equality of all before God, and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski, who lends his lenses to some of the most subtly gorgeous work I have seen on the screen in a while. A good example of the magic that Spielberg and Kaminski weave, my favorite shot of the film, is the one in which Lincoln and his son Tad (Gulliver McGrath) stand in the window of the White House on the morning of the vote. It's a climactic scene, but at the same time there's a wonderful sense of serenity to it.
If Spielberg and his crew brought their A-game to this film, Day-Lewis rewrote the rules of the game; he absolutely disappeared into the role. His achievement was particularly notable because his was not the only good performance here; the film is rich in wonderful supporting performances by the likes of David Strathairn as Lincoln's secretary of state, the aforementioned Lee Jones and Field, Joseph Gordon-Levitt as his son Robert, Lee Pace as a rival democratic congressman Fernando Wood, Jared Harris as Union Army General Ulysses Grant, Jackie Earle Haley as Confederate Vice-President Alexander H. Stephens, and especially the trio of James Spader, John Hawkes and Tim Blake Nelson who play Lincoln's crack team of negotiators, whose sole task is to cajole or bribe as many congressmen as they can to get the requisite number of votes. Fine performances, every one, but Day-Lewis stands head and shoulders above every one of them because at no point did I think of him as being anyone other than Abraham Lincoln. No other actor, even the unknown actors they would cast as superheroes or iconic characters, has ever given me that kind of experience.
What really struck me about the film was how, apart from the first few minutes which, to my mind, dragged a bit, the entire narrative was impressed with a sense of urgency regarding the vote on the amendment, notwithstanding the fact that, clearly, anyone with half a brain could figure the outcome. The incumbent president of the United States is a black man, after all.
Not only that, but for me the film works not just as a dramatization of history but as an allegory for the fine line that elected officials must tread, and occasionally cross, when serving their duty. Sometimes it's not always a question of doing what's right at a given moment in time; sometimes it's about waiting for just the right moment, or, in some instances, creating the moment. Sometimes, in order to be able to push the policy that's needed, especially policy which goes against the grain, there is a need for patience, for craftiness, and in some instances, even ruthlessness.
The film is not so much apologetic as it is unflinchingly honest about the things that "honest" Abe was ready to do; in this case, the political maneuvering that actually took place was an ignoble means to a noble end. It's not the most altruistic reasoning, but considering what Lincoln and his Republican Party achieved with their arguably-less-than-ethical tactics at the time, that is to say, they helped pave the way for the civil rights movement that would evolve continually over the next century, it is hard to argue with the results. Politics is always ugly business, but with this film Spielberg shows that a huge part of the statesmanship of Abraham Lincoln was knowing when it was worth using the bad to achieve something genuinely good.
Ironically enough, one of my favorite scenes in the film is arguably the least believable, one which was most likely put there for its metaphorical value rather than any historical accuracy. The film opens with a particularly brutal battle in the civil war, showing black soldiers from the Union Army brutally fighting white Confederate soldiers. As Lincoln interviews two of the veterans from the battle, both black men, one (Colman Domingo) lavishes him with praise and thanks for what he has done, but the other (David Oyelowo) takes him to task for what he feels are unfulfilled promises. Each of the soldiers represents an extreme, the first being a constituent content to heap praise on his leader, and the second being the constituent ready to hold the leader accountable for all of the promises he has made. Would that we could all address our elected leaders the way the second man did.
It's doubtful that there will ever again be a leader like Abraham Lincoln, but thanks to Steven Spielberg, worldwide audiences will have a glimpse into what made him a great man. Not only that but Spielberg has just reminded everyone why, in a world full of up-and-comers like Ben Affleck, Chris Nolan and J.J. Abrams, he is still very much at the top of the heap.
5/5
No comments:
Post a Comment