chris kilby
Posts: 1189
Joined: 31/3/2010
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Wot, no vampires?
As a sequel to Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, Lincoln SUCKS! But as lovingly crafted, machine-tooled Oscar-bait, it’s a triumph. Even if it didn’t turn out to be quite the Oscar-hoover many expected – Argo’s good, but it’s not this good.
Based on Doris Kearns-Goodwin’s mighty Lincoln biography, Team of Rivals, at Spielberg’s insistence, Tony Kushner’s epic script focuses on the final months of Lincoln’s life which saw the end of the Civil War and the passing of the 13th Amendment which abolished slavery. (Kushner’s original script was even more epic with a much broader focus. God only knows how long that film would have been. Four score and seven hours, perhaps?)
Unlike previous biopics of America’s 16th President and greatest secular “saint,” Lincoln is a warts and all biography, not a hagiography. Lincoln celebrates The Great Emancipator but doesn’t venerate him. This Lincoln is a man not a monument, with all the human flaws and frailties that implies. Not least his notorious long-windedness. Lincoln is by far Spielberg’s talkiest film. But what talk! And is all the better for it.
Amusingly prone to circumlocutions and calculated yarn-spinning, Lincoln would never use two words when a homily (or soliloquy) would do. “I could make shorter sermons but once I get going I’m too lazy to stop.” I know what you mean, Abe! Lincoln was also prone to violent outbursts (“The fate of human dignity is in our hands!”) and bouts of brooding introspection if not downright depression, something which afflicts a lot of Great Men.
Nor was “Honest Abe” above a bit of political skulduggery in pursuit of a higher cause. The highest. Quite a lot of political skulduggery as it happens. Of course he wasn’t. He was a politician not a saint and a ruthless one at that. And it is to Spielberg’s credit that he doesn’t deify him. Lincoln’s greatest achievement depended on coercion, strong-arm tactics and good old-fashioned bribery – the end of slavery justifying any means necessary. Including, possibly, letting the Civil War continue longer than necessary. Lincoln’s critics called him a tyrant. They had a point.
Yet he was also humble, self-effacing (exemplified here in a lovely moment when Union Soldiers quote his already-iconic Gettysburg Address back at him) and, it is said, surprisingly softly-spoken: Daniel Day-Lewis sounds not unlike Clinton here. The Comeback Kid must be tickled pink. Pinker than usual, I mean.
Quiet, unassuming and dignified, Lincoln was also possessed of an iron will. He knew he was right: “Slavery, sir. It’s done.” Citing Euclid, Lincoln said that if slavery wasn’t wrong then nothing was wrong. A truth he held to be self-evident. Fairness. Justice. Equality. The heart of the whole film. Or political correctness GONE MAD in the parlance of our times. The first Republican President, the great irony is that Lincoln’s own party would probably oppose him at every turn these days, Democrats and Republicans having long since swapped roles. FOX News would crucify him for being * GASP! * a liberal.
Oscars might be empty, meaningless baubles (Akiva Goldsman and Driving Miss Daisy won Oscars ferchrissakes!), but as empty, meaningless baubles go, they’re among the best. Just ask Daniel Day-Lewis! Now officially anointed by The Academy of Retired Actors as The Greatest Screen Ac-tor of All Time, and rightly so. Daniel Day-Lewis simply IS Lincoln. I used to think this remarkable actor was overrated. But following his towering performances in Gangs of New York, There Will Be Blood and now Lincoln, if anyone can legitimately be said to be "The Greatest," it’s him.
No-one inhabits a role, no-one becomes the character like he does. He’s more force of nature than actor. And unlike his Great Acting peers, Day-Lewis hasn’t descended into hammy self-parody (like Nicholson), sold his talent short in anything-for-the-money crap (like De Niro), or become mired in bloated self-loathing (like Brando). Although, like Brando, I think Day-Lewis can be ambivalent about his gift, hence his periodic long absences from the screen. Of this pantheon, only Pacino comes close but even he is notoriously prone to shouty, bug-eyed excess - Hoo-ha! Incredibly, D-Day can chew the scenery without being hammy.
Even at his most Oscar-friendly extreme (“DRAIN-AAAAAAAAAAGE!!!”), Day-Lewis doesn’t seem to be acting at all. Now that is great acting. Not that he shouts much here – speak softly and win another Oscar. Sure, it’s easy to mock his rumoured method excesses (which he himself now wryly mocks with self-effacing good humour), but just look at the results.
And D-Day is in very good company here, supported by one of the finest ensembles of character actors ever assembled: David Strathairn, Hal Holbrooke and Joseph Gordon-Levitt who has had a very good 2012 even if that ‘tache makes him look like Rupert Pupkin auditioning for Rhet Butler! (All the impressive period face fuzz on display here makes Lincoln look like a novelty sideburn convention. If there had been an Oscar awarded to Most Generous Moustache this year, Lincoln would have been a shoo-in!) It’s also good to see Jackie Earl Hailey continue to capitalise on his belated breakthrough role in Watchmen.
A team of rivals, indeed. But special mentions must go out to an almost unrecognisable James Spader and his fellow, scene-stealing lobbyists and bagmen, Tim Blake Nelson and Frank Zappa lookalike, John Hawkes, who’s been around forever and is fast approaching Kevin Spacey levels of ubiquity. The once-svelte Spader especially seems to be channelling the Falstafian spirit of his old Boston Legal sparring partner, William Shatner. He also gets the funniest, profanest line in what is a surprisingly funny film - the very idea of votes for women causes more uproar than the immediate prospect of votes for blacks. It’s telling that America had a black President before it had a female one!
I thought Sally Field was a shoo-in for another little gold fella too as Lincoln’s neurotic wife, Molly, haunted by the loss of their son and plagued by debilitating (psychosomatic?) headaches. It’s Sally Field’s finest screen performance. I like her. I really like her! Lincoln feared nothing it seems but this formidable woman. Which is understandable, I suppose. The sight of Burt Reynolds’ former onscreen arm-candy putting Tommy Lee Jones firmly in his place like a naughty schoolboy was worth the price of admission alone.
Yes, Tommy Lee Jones. At his curmudgeonly bulldog best here, he’s so monolithic he could play Mount Rushmore. The curmudgeon’s curmudgeon, Jones was simply born to play Thaddeus Stevens, abolitionist leader of the “demented radicals.” Unbending, unyielding and uncompromising (until he had to be - “There is almost nothing I won’t do”), from “interminable gabble” and “fatuous nincompoop” to “Mr Wood, you perfectly named, obstructive object,” Jones gets some of the best lines. And the best put-downs.
Lincoln is replete with soaring political rhetoric and fearsome, almost Biblical oaths like “pettifogging Tamanny Hall hucksters.” (What delicate online types nowadays call “ad hominem attacks.”) Such ornately baroque language, which sounds quaintly Coens-like to modern ears, was the norm back then. But that’s progress for you – LOLS!!! :) If only internet culture (for want of a better word) was more like this and not the shrieking madhouse of dull banality it so often is. It’s the sort of wonderful turn of phrase and soaring oratory modern politics so sorely lacks and which Obama has sought to revive.
For Obama casts a long shadow over Lincoln, albeit an invisible one. The 44th President is an unspoken presence throughout this film about the 16th. Every reference to negro rights, negro votes and negro representatives is pregnant with the prospect, unthinkable then and still highly unlikely just a decade ago, of a negro president. No Lincoln, no Obama. It’s as simple as that.
Long in development, surely it’s no coincidence that Spielberg finally chose to make his other dream project in an election year. This election year in particular. A love letter to Lincoln, it is also a subtle love letter to Obama too. And, at the start of his second term, maybe a challenge as well. So often compared to Lincoln (not least by himself), Spielberg’s film virtually challenges Obama to live up to his hero’s legacy. No pressure then.
But Obama’s shadow isn’t as big as the shadow cast by slavery itself, the violent long-term consequences of which America lives with to this day. Spielbergian used to mean Jaws, ET and Indiana Jones – masterful popcorn entertainment with a real sense of wonder, something his snobbish detractors and The Academy spectacularly failed to acknowledge. But now Spielbergian also means Schindler, Ryan and Lincoln – more mature, thoughtful entertainments, no less masterful but with greater maturity. He’ll still never top Jaws, though.
There can be no doubt now that Spielberg is one of The Greats. Assuming there ever was any doubt. Now in his fifth decade as a filmmaker, Spielberg remains at the top of his game creatively and only gets more interesting as an artist. Following the personal and professional watershed that was Schindler’s List, Spielberg continues to deftly juggle Schindler-like “importance” with Jurassic-style thrills (his next film was going to be Robopocalypse) while increasingly combining the two in “darker” thrills like Minority Report and War of the Worlds. By focusing so often on such serious themes as The Holocaust and, controversially, slavery (The Colour Purple, Amistad and Lincoln forming a loose trilogy of sorts) Spielberg is nothing less than the voice of Hollywood’s liberal conscience. Which isn’t anywhere near as worthy or dull as that sounds. Unlike other self-consciously “important” directors, Spielberg never forgets he is first and foremost an entertainer. Even at his most profound and serious, Spielberg is never ponderous or dull. Well, maybe Amistad.
And like Amistad, Lincoln is essentially a courtroom drama of sorts. The talk might be hi-fallutin’, but there’s no escaping this film is a lot of old men talking in darkened rooms illuminated by Spielbergian shafts of sunlight, all chiaroscuro silhouettes emulating the paintings of the time.
There are still visual flourishes though. Lincoln dreams that the abolition of slavery is an unstoppable ship sailing on the relentless tide of history with himself at the helm. The Civil War which killed more Americans than every other war combined is almost over before Lincoln begins and takes place largely off-screen, although we do get harrowing glimpses of its apocalyptic aftermath (inspired by the iconic civil war photography of Matthew Brady which also inspired Leone’s The Good, The Bad and The Ugly); most vividly, the unspoken horror of a burial pit full of freshly-amputated limbs.
And there is John Williams, of course, still going strong at 80. How many Spielberg scores is that now? I’ve lost count. His score is a virtual remix of stately Saving Private Ryan with hints of JFK but no less powerful for all that and used quite sparingly.
Spielberg can’t resist being Spielberg though. “I suppose it’s time to go, though I would rather stay,” is poignant if not exactly subtle as Lincoln’s iconic silhouette leaves the film and enters the history books – his assassination happens discretely off-screen. But he earns it. This isn’t usual. It is history. A film for the ages.
< Message edited by chris kilby -- 1/3/2013 3:25:47 AM >
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