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Granted, the demands of work don't often leave me with a lot of time to go see movies. Since the start of the school year, I've only had time to go to the movies once -- stealing away the weekend after my birthday to go see the brilliant Argo. (Seriously, Ben Affleck is an incredible director.) With a long holiday weekend, though, comes the opportunity to carve out a little time to hit the multiplex rather than the Black Friday sales. (Of course, I DID spend a little time carving out some deals, too.) Today, while the masses were pushing and shoving their way to cheap video games and high def tv's, I spent a couple hours with Abraham Lincoln.
Going in, I expected greatness. When Steven Spielberg puts his mind to it, he is capable of great filmmaking. Sure, there are times when he indulges his more sentimental side and times when his impulse for film as spectacle outweighs his impulse for film as art. There are definitely times when Spielberg's desire to make films of great importance yield preachy, treacly works where entertainment is lost in the sermon. At his best, though, Spielberg can walk the line between art and entertainment in a masterful way unlike many other directors out there. Fortunately, Lincoln shows Spielberg at his very best.
Part of the success of the film lies in the choice made by Spielberg and screenwriter Tony Kushner to eschew the trappings of the standard biopic. We don't get shots of young Lincoln splitting rails or stealing Mary Todd away from future political rival Stephen Douglass. Instead, the film begins in the last months of Lincoln's life. With the end of the Civil War clearly in sight and the Southern states poised to return to the Union, Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis in a spectacular performance) realizes the window is quickly closing during which he can pass the 13th Amendment which will end slavery. The film tracks the backroom deals that Lincoln, his staff, and his allies in Congress (led by Tommy Lee Jones as crusading abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens) used to win the 2/3 vote necessary to amend the constitution before a Confederate delegation can arrive in Washington to negotiate the terms of surrender. At the same time, Lincoln faces his own personal issues with his emotionally turbulent wife Mary (Sally Field) and the desires of his son Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) to join his contemporaries in the war effort rather than wasting away in college.
Kushner's script gives this cast a lot of meat to chew on and rich characters to develop. It can't be easy to create suspense in a biopic. Ideally, the audience all knows how things turn out, and yet there I was biting my lip with anxiety, wondering if the vote to end slavery would actually come out in Lincoln's favor. Yes, intellectually I knew it did. I know my American history and my constitution. And yet I found myself tallying right along with Mary Todd Lincoln as the number of needed "ayes" left dwindled down. I love, too, that Kushner and Spielberg sidestepped the "big moments." We don't get the Gettysburg Address beyond a couple starry-eyed soldiers reciting it to Lincoln, who seems a bit uncomfortable with the celebrity adoration. We don't get the assassination or even the collective grief following Lincoln's death. We get private moments or alternative views, learning of Lincoln's shooting through his young son Tad. What I loved about this approach is that the script assumed its audience's intelligence, assumed we knew the details of the assassination and the other "big moments" in Lincoln's life. It's so refreshing to not have Hollywood pander for once.
There's a reason why this film is already being spoken of with such reverence and leads many critics' lists for top Oscar contenders. It is proof that great American filmmaking is still possible, that movies can still mean something more than blowing stuff up or keeping the kids entertained. Spielberg doesn't need gimmicks or 3D glasses to enthrall. He just needs Abraham Lincoln.
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