LINCOLN

The first two names that I ever associated with the making of films were George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. They were involved, in one capacity or another, in many of the entertainments that I viewed time and again as a small child. It took quite a while for the Lucas love to fade (I imagine that I was the only twelve-year-old in existence excited for the release of RADIOLAND MURDERS), but I still hold that soft spot for Spielberg. He has had his share of let downs, and beginning in the early 80s, he seems to hit a creative spurt every ten years that lasts for a handful of films. By that theory, this or next year should be that creative streak, though I have yet to see  THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN, WARHORSE or MUNICH (which I am watching once this essay is finished, and would disprove this unfounded theory should I like it).

 

 

There is nothing in LINCOLN that signified a Steven Spielberg picture. This is not to say that it is poorly constructed or without authorship, just that the material is so staid and well worn, and little is done to shake it up or make it fresh. It was presented as sturdy awards bait, and it is. Daniel Day-Lewis, great as always, does have an unconventional take on Lincoln. His voice is high and reedy, and he is denied many of the landmark biopic moments that one would assume you would see in a Lincoln film.

 

Historical spoilers after the jump.
 

LINCOLN puts its worst foot forward in its opening scene, and it doesn’t really falter again until the end. Spielberg wants to subvert expectations by denying us the expected moments in Lincoln’s life, but still wants to ensure the film’s place as shorthand for lazy teachers for years to come. Indeed, many a hung-over schoolteachers will now have a part two to bolster AMISTAD as de facto babysitter/teaching aid. We do not see the Gettysburg Address, but instead have it recited by an ignorant white union soldier and a stalwart black one. I would argue that this is insulting to the audience, as we all most assuredly know the major Lincoln talking points. ARGO, which was based on a much less traversed page of American history, had much more faith in the intelligence of the audience.

 

The opening scene also begins my favorite trope of the film, Lincoln speaking in corny jokes and (mostly) lame parables. The HBO miniseries ‘John Adams’ pulled off a similar trick with Benjamin Franklin, presenting him as a whoremonger who fancies himself a clever phrasemaker while all around him just seem exasperated. There is wisdom in Lincoln’s words and occasional levity as well, but at times it almost seems like a dodge to see who will laugh too hard in order to weed out the thoughtful from those who are simply humoring the president. Indeed, Lincoln seems to build his closest confidants from those who are not afraid to oppose his plans or call him out as shortsighted, idealistic or downright foolish at times. Of these advisors, the film focuses mostly on Secretary of State William Seward (David Strathairn, with longish grey hair that makes him look fresh from the pages of a history book. I have rarely been so taken by the hair, facial and otherwise, in a film, but everyone here displays top notch grooming.) and Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones), whose views on slavery make Lincoln’s look conservative.

 

 

The film is largely concerned with the securing of enough votes to ratify the thirteenth amendment. Lincoln thinks it can be done through mostly above board means, while Seward employs Latham, Schell and Bilbo (John Hawkes, Tim Blake Nelson and James Spader, who steals the show every time he is onscreen) to bribe and coerce as many votes as possible. This is quite enough drama to fill the running time, especially when you factor in Lincoln’s mentally unstable wife Mary Todd. (Sally Field, so oddly miscast that it often took me out of the film. So miscast that I ended up doing research after the film was over to see if Mary Todd was indeed much older than Lincoln [she was in fact his junior by almost a decade] and then further research to see why this was the case. Apparently Sally Field campaigned for the part, which makes this a blatant case of pity casting. I love Sally Field, but if I’m doing math in my head instead of enjoying the scene onscreen, you’ve got a problem. Further research reveals that Sally Field is the same age as Tommy Lee Jones, who is presented in the film as a progressively thinking fossil, out-aged only by Hal Holbrook, who at least gets a reprieve from playing Alzheimer’s victims and men on their deathbeds.) However, the film lacks the courage of its convictions. If the climax of your film is the vote to abolish slavery, then you need to end after that. Joe Bob Briggs taught us that when the monster is dead, the movie is over. And even that ending is gilded with unneeded touches, such as the revelation of Stevens’s motivations for equal rights. He has enough character flourishes already, with his jet black wig and dog’s head cane. I don’t care if it is historically accurate, Spielberg does not have a light enough touch to heap this much eccentricity and unconventionality onto a single character without reaching a tipping point. (Although I am fuzzy enough on my own nation’s history to be hopeful throughout the film that Thaddeus Stevens was the man who beat a senator with his cane in congress. No such luck.) Not to keep comparing LINCOLN to ARGO, but, again, ARGO knew that there can still be tension when the outcome is widely known beforehand. We all know that slavery is going to be abolished by the picture’s end. You do not need to add hokey conceits like a having Mary Todd keep a running tally of how many votes are still needed; doing so is insulting to the audience.

 

Has this ever been portrayed in a film? Because it needs to be.

 

If you want to make the bold play of only portraying certain chapters in a great man’s life, then you need to stick to it. It is daring to leave out the Gettysburg Address. It is cowardly to have it recited by minor characters. It is daring to leave out the assassination. It is cowardly to still show us the dead body and aftermath. Also, the weird layered shot of Lincoln delivering a final speech, appearing in the flickering lamp’s flame (making him look like the Tupac hologram) is totally unnecessary. I would argue that this final oratory could appear after the surrender of the south, and then you fade to black. We all know what happens next, and if you’re going to portray these events, do so with showmanship.

Anyhow, all of this bellyaching makes it sound as though I did not enjoy the film, which is not true. Without the missteps at the beginning and the end, the film is solidly entertaining much in the way you would expect from a holiday released biopic. The cast is full of great actors, many of whom are sort of TV’s all-stars of the moment, who at times seem underserved because of the film’s wide canvas and breadth of scope. And Daniel Day-Lewis, who is undeniably a great actor, no matter what kind of weirdo tactics he reportedly uses onset, really disappears into the role. He does not appear to be using prosthetics or heavy makeup (outside of that used to make him look appropriately haggard by the film’s end) yet he still manages to really become Lincoln. In some shots the resemblance is downright spooky. It really is a shame that this isn’t an all around great picture, as the pedigree of everyone involved suggests nothing less.