If there’s one major flaw in Lincoln: it’s the title! The film is, arguably, about the greatest United States President, yes; however, rather than revolve around Lincoln’s life as a whole—his demons, his personal quandaries, his mentally fragile wife, his son’s denouncement of privilege and desire to go to war, even the far-fetched (unfounded) rumors of Lincoln’s homosexuality—we focus fixedly on only his final months, including his hard-fought battle to end slavery once and for all with a 13th amendment. It’s a film about the struggles, benefits and detriments of a Democratic system—one which should be examined, carefully, by our current members of Congress. Yet, even within this limited scope, Spielberg captures Lincoln’s essence. I left the theater thinking I knew him. I teared up as I mourned his passing (spoiler!). I felt his premature death and his absence from the present save for his unflinching historical influence.
To procure the Democratic votes needed for a 13th Amendment, Lincoln had his regime promote the law as a means of crippling the Confederacy and ending the Civil War, even though the war was on the verge of ending. During these Congressional debates, Lincoln held secret negotiations with Confederate V.P. Alexander Stevens (Jackie Earle Haley), who was prepared to surrender should slavery be retained in the South. Lincoln’s refusal to negotiate with the Confederacy before their surrender at Appomattox Court House meant a pro-longed war could that cost thousands more lives, including endangering the life of his own son Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt). The exploits of the Amendment battle include many supporting players including Lincoln’s allies in his quest like his loyal Secretary of State (David Strathaim) and adviser Francis Blair (Hal Halbrook).
This may be Spielberg’s greatest collection of talents and performances in his career. It’s almost impossible to think that Spielberg was going to give Lincoln to Liam Neeson—a fine actor—but not up to snuff with what Day-Lewis delivers. His Lincoln is quiet, reserved, calculating, and leads with a soft but unwavering touch. During quiet moments when Lincoln is pensive, it’s impossible not to be spell-bound by him.
Sally Field also fares well as Mary Todd, Lincoln’s emotionally fragile wife. There’s only so much for her to do other than berate her husband’s decisions to prolong the war and condoning their son’s (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) desires to enlist in the army. The family drama is sidelined for the politics, leaving the two to sit by the sidelines and bear witness to Abe’s history-making. The brief interludes between husband and wife seem like another story; one that should be reserved for a three-hour epic that could add some meat to Lincoln’s personal trials.
The real side-draw is Jones’s Senator Stevens, whose cantankerous verbal pokes at his Democratic opposition in the House of Representatives are some of the film’s highlights. His opposing views with Lincoln beg for debate, and he engages real-world ideas for how change can be introduced to society. Jones is even afforded his fair share of emotional satisfaction, including the film’s climax that adds a brand new layer to a Stevens, who, by all accounts, was even more radical than Lincoln ever was.
It’s a testament to Spielberg for making Lincoln and referencing many political arenas that are hot debate topics in today’s world—the idea of government’s role, the fine-line between change and appeasement, the holes in the political discourse. But, as Spielberg tends to do, he exudes a heavy-hand, foregoing subtlety with outright message hammering. It’s nowhere near as forced as Amistad or even Saving Private Ryan, but it’s evident that one repeated diatribe toward slavery’s evils could have been supplanted successfully with more meat to Lincoln’s personal trials.
Technically, this film is a marvel to behold with historically pristine sets, costumes and candlelit lighting. For a film devoid of action (save for a short Civil War opening battle), there’s a lot for the senses to ingest whether it be Lincoln’s offices or the details of the White House bedrooms. John Williams’ score is surprisingly strong and reserved. Spielberg allows it to come to life only during key moments. There are even speeches in which you expect Williams to sound the trumpets, but they keep it at bay. Thankfully.
Like many, I felt the film could have ended five minutes before it actually does. There’s something powerfully moving about seeing Lincoln stroll the White House hallway one final time–his solemn, instantly recognizable silhouette leaving behind a legacy with each step he takes. His final words to his staff bear more poignancy than any grandiose speech Spielberg could add as a final curtain call. By the penultimate scene, we’re already convinced that Lincoln was a great man, this was a great film (Spielberg’s finest in over a decade) and Daniel Day-Lewis deserves yet another Oscar.
Though I have not yet watched the movie, great review and I look forward to seeing it. Brandon
Fantastic review. One of your best.