It’s early 1865, and as the Civil War rages on, President
Abraham Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis) is determined to oversee the passage of the Thirteenth
Amendment, which will abolish slavery. He and his advisors must work around the
mistrust of Rep. Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones) and the Radical
Republicans, the reservations of Francis Preston Blair (Hal Holbrook) and the Conservative
Republicans (who would prefer that Lincoln make peace with the South), and the
outright opposition of the Democrats in order for the bill to pass the House.
Meanwhile, Lincoln’s relationship with his family remains tense: oldest son
Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is intent on joining the Union Army, but his
mother Mary (Sally Field) can’t stand the thought of losing him.
Directed by Steven Spielberg, scripted by Tony Kushner, and
boasting a huge cast, Lincoln has the
pedigree of a historical epic, but it isn’t one. A more apt title would have
been The Thirteenth Amendment: The Untold
Story. Indeed, the film is less of a biopic and more of a two-and-a-half
hour episode of The West Wing,
replete with idealistic speeches, character-establishing anecdotes, and cunning
political maneuvering, but absent (save for the opening, a brief but bloody
depiction of the Battle of Jenkins’ Ferry) much action.
Despite its myopic narrative focus, Lincoln remains, in most regards, a well-crafted film. The acting
is impeccable. Day-Lewis, a meticulous method actor, deservedly picked up a
third Best Actor Oscar for his work in the lead role: he skirts the mythology
of “Honest Abe” and plays the 16th president as a powerful,
determined, but very conflicted human being. He is surrounded by an equally
game cast. Field’s Mary Todd Lincoln is appropriately high-strung, Texan Jones somehow
works as the Ohioan Stevens, David Strathairn makes for a principled Secretary
of State William Seward, and Gordon-Levitt is (justifiably) indignant as
Robert.
Lincoln is also handsomely albeit
restrainedly designed. Period detail offers everything including Abe’s
stovepipe hat, but this isn’t the type of film meant to wow you with style.
Similarly, John Williams’ score is effective, but not one that jumps out at
you.
The big question regarding any historical drama is accuracy,
and on that account, Lincoln succeeds
more than it fails. Yes, there are departures from the historical record — maverick
Democrat Clay Hawkins is a composite character and Tad Lincoln is depicted
without a speech impediment, for instance – but the Hollywoodization is kept to
a minimum. And while the film does offer a decidedly positive depiction of
Lincoln, it doesn’t veer into hagiography. He takes note of his own capacity
for demagoguery, and he is shown engaging in slick lawyer tricks and what
amounts to bribery-by-proxy (albeit for a good cause).
Because Lincoln is
less about the man and more about one of many achievements, it is easy to see
it as a misguided effort or a wasted opportunity. However, if history is
defined by the moments that matter most, the filmmakers captured this one as
best as anyone could.
7.75/10
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