A limping Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee
Jones) returns home, takes his wig off, and hands the 13th amendment voting
record to his black lover. As the two climb into bed, the Radical Republican
asks his lover to reads the document aloud. Indeed, reading the amendment's
text aloud is the closest any black character gets to creating political change
in Steven Spielberg's historically skewed "Lincoln."
The film centers on President
Lincoln's (Daniel Day-Lewis) campaign to pass the 13th amendment in the House
of Representatives, which outlawed slavery in the United States. Through
corruption, persuasion, and patronage, Lincoln is able to get the Constitution
amended. Spielberg stresses unity for a fractured nation whose 112th Congress
failed to repeal Obamacare thirty-three times, blocked a U.N. disabilities
protection treaty, and delayed voting on the Hurricane Sandy relief bill.
The screenplay by Tony Kushner
features snappy dialogue and the sense of loneliness that Lincoln experienced
as Commander-in-Chief during the Civil War. Verbal political sparring and
President Lincoln's humorous anecdotes are particularly poignant. Kushner's
writing stresses the emotional turmoil in Lincoln's mind as he grips with moral
decisions on the future of the peculiar institution, particularly his conversations
with Secretary of State William Seward, and howling sessions with his wife,
Mary Todd.
The sets balance Lincoln as a
political leader and as a father: the grandeur of the White House generates
hope in American republican ideals, while rooms in the executive mansion remain
familiar enough to hold intimate family conversations. The costumes maintain
historical accuracy, particularly Lincoln's elegant-yet-Kentucky-simple
outfits.
The acting in this film inspires faith
in the American democratic process. Day-Lewis masterfully depicts the torment
of a divided nation while helping the country achieve higher ideals. His
unwavering belief in permanently eliminating slavery outside of a war measure
context expresses American egalitarian ideals.
Mary Todd Lincoln's (Sally Field)
struggle to maintain hope sharpens the nation's fragmentation. During hollow
social functions, she creates empathy by putting on a brave face as First Lady.
Her conversation with Rep. Stevens when she told him the public would never
love him as much as her husband was cutting and brilliant.
Aesthetically,
this film does a wonderful job recreating mid-19th century division and
anxiety; but lack of black political participation remains problematic and
perpetuates an inaccurate historical narrative. For all Spielberg's historical
celebrity dropping (Ulysses S. Grant, Robert E. Lee, Seward), Frederick
Douglass remains a glowing omission.
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