Lincoln (2012)

The prospect of Daniel Day-Lewis portraying Abraham Lincoln in a film directed by Steven Spielberg is one of those movie ideas that seems too obvious; not unlike when Morgan Freeman was Nelson Mandela in Clint Eastwood's Invictus. It’s almost strange that it hasn’t already been done. When one hears the words “Spielberg’s Lincoln,” they immediately feel as if they’ve already seen the movie. Surely there will be grand Day-Lewis monologues accompanied by a very loud and weepy John Williams score, and surely there will be scenes of Civil War brutality that provide a backdrop to Lincoln’s troubled, tragic and triumphant presidency. You probably feel like you already know the structure of the whole thing in your head, and it’s just a matter of how well they're able to pull it off.

That’s why it’s such a surprise that Lincoln only fulfills some of those promises, and overall is much more reserved than most will anticipate. The film’s slightly unorthodox agenda is evident from the moment you hear Day-Lewis’ squeaky, unthreatening voice. On a macro level, the story of Lincoln seems tailor made for Spielberg’s sensibilities. In reality, this is one of his biggest departures in recent years. Lincoln isn’t a Civil War epic as much as it’s a Robert Redford-esque political drama, and 90 percent of the film consists of old white men with silly facial hair discussing the ins and outs of legislation in dimly-lit rooms. In fact, the title itself is something of a misnomer. Lincoln suggests that Spielberg and Day-Lewis intend to tell the famous President’s life story. In reality, this is more of an ensemble piece about the battle to pass the Thirteenth Amendment. The title Team of Rivals, from the book on which the screenplay is based, might have been more apt.

This is both to the film’s credit and occasional detriment. I truly enjoyed Lincoln; particularly when it gets deep into the backroom dealings that were required to get the amendment passed. When Spielberg remembers that he still has some basic biopic expectations to fulfill, the film is much less interesting. For this and many other reasons, I suspect the film will be hated in some circles. It's strange to me, but people have started to detest when Spielberg lays the cheese on too thick. (See the puzzlingly mixed reception to last year’s War Horse.) Even though Lincoln doesn’t go for the emotional jugular quite as often, there are plenty of moments here meant to make you reach for the tissues. Unlike War Horse, they don’t work quite as well here. Thankfully there are a lot fewer of them.

Lincoln is primarily about the last few months of the Civil War, when a Union victory seemed inevitable and Lincoln still wanted to push through an amendment that abolished slavery. The only way the amendment will pass, apparently, is if the country believes it is a necessary measure to end the bloodshed. If folks believe that the war can end without freeing the slaves, then the amendment will lose all momentum. Even then, this proposed law is hardly popular among members of Congress. Lincoln and Secretary of State William Seward (David Strathairn) begin a mission to get the necessary votes, and that involves hiring a small team (James Spader, John Hawkes and Tim Blake Nelson) to go and do some persuading. One person they don't need to persuade is representative Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones), who is perhaps the most vocal supporter of the new amendment.

Even with all this to deal with, the film is less about this story and more about capturing the tumultuous nation that Lincoln was tasked with leading through a horrible war. There’s also his rough home life that needs some dealing with. His wife Mary Todd Lincoln (Sally Field) clearly respects him but no longer seems to love him—they also lost a son not long before the film begins—and his eldest child (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) wishes to leave his studies and go serve in the war. Lincoln uneasily balances scenes of both political and familial conflict while throwing all the white character actors at the audience that it can. There are small roles in this film for Jackie Earle Haley, Michael Stuhlbarg, Jared Harris, Walton Goggins, Hal Holbrook, Lee Pace, David “Gale Boetticher” Costabile, and more. None of them get a ton to do—heck, the aforementioned Tim Blake Nelson has barely a line of a dialogue—but when you're a director like Steven Spielberg my guess is that actors are waiting in lines around the block just to get in the door.

Even the film’s opponents, and I anticipate a handful, will have to appreciate the relative boldness of what Spielberg and his screenwriter Tony Kushner (Munich, Angels in America, a million other non-movie things) actually attempt to do. This is certainly a history lesson of sorts, but it may not be the kind of history lesson that people are expecting. The film doesn’t concern itself with the who, what, when and where of Lincoln’s life, but rather with the kind of person he was in office. In a strange way, this version of the film may teach us more about the man (or at least this undoubtedly fictionalized version of the man) than any mere life summary would ever do. Lincoln is smart enough to know that most of the people watching the movie are already familiar with the broad strokes of Lincoln’s life and presidency, so there’s no need to just rehash that hope the Oscars start rolling in. The film instead chooses to zoom in on a small portion of his life, and hopefully therein find something interesting and unique to say.

This gambit usually pays off, though not always. This may be the driest movie Spielberg has ever directed, and those expecting a nonstop John Williams barrage will be disappointed to hear that much of this movie flies by without any music playing underneath. This is not a grand, overly cinematic version of events. This is an intimate account of Lincoln’s final few months, and there is a lot of talking. Sometimes the movie hits an undeniable lull, but when it finds a groove it is downright stirring. It is not a coincidence that many of the best scenes involve Tommy Lee Jones’ character, who probably provides the most interesting arc in the film. There are long stretches where Day-Lewis becomes a supporting character, and that may actually help the film more than it hurts it.

By this I do not mean that Day-Lewis is bad. In fact, he is the exact opposite of that, and he deserves any statues that are thrown his way in the coming months. However, whenever the film feels the need to detour into full-on biopic mode is when it started to lose me. In particular, the final 15 minutes or so could have been removed altogether and the final product might have been better for it. In these moments, Spielberg and company succumb to some of the temptations that arise when making a film like this. (In particular, there’s one editing choice very late in the film that takes corny to the next level.) For 150 minutes, Lincoln was doing a fine job of taking us inside the mind of its eponymous subject without venturing into Obviousland, and unfortunately Spielberg decides to take a late unnecessary detour. The story we cared about was already over; there’s no need to take us as far as he ultimately does.

Outside of these few bumps in the road, Lincoln is an admirable film simply because it refuses to be the movie that so many people (including myself) imagined it would be. There are plenty of expected elements to it, but you have to respect any project where the filmmakers decide to actually try for something rather than take the easy way out. Spielberg and Kushner had every excuse in the world to slap something together, throw Daniel Day-Lewis on the poster, and await the acclaim. Instead, they found an interesting angle that ventures far outside standard historical biopic territory. The final result is a little uneven, but the vast majority of the time it stands as proof that Spielberg is still looking to push himself in new and uncharted directions. That’s why he’s still the king.

Grade: B+

Lincoln will get a limited release starting November 9, and then go wide on November 16.