Daniel Day-Lewis leaves tread marks all over actors who previously played Abraham Lincoln. Roll over Raymond Massey–and tell Walter Huston the news.
Hyper calm, self-deprecating, eager to spin pithy tales for every occasion, Day-Lewis’s Lincoln seems distracted by a doting focus on his beloved younger son, Tad. Here Abe deceives like a butterfly, then stings like a bee. Comfortable with being the only guy in either political party who believes a Constitutional Amendment to outlaw slavery can actually pass Congress, he uses his authority like an ace in the hole. He plays it only when absolutely necessary, and then for maximum impact. His placid style drives his advisers, including Secretary of State William Seward (a stirring David Straithairn) to maddening frustration, until cobra-like, he jarringly implores them to take any steps necessary to get the requisite number of votes. Here Lincoln gives the ultimate lesson on practical politics while Day-Lewis gives the ultimate lesson of stepping into an enigmatic role and absolutely owning it. By the way, Steven Spielberg directed and Tony Kushner (Angels in America) wrote the screenplay. Tommy Lee Jones plays Thaddeus Stevens, second fiddle to Lincoln and a more radical abolitionist who must bring himself to compromise for the sake of change that has an actual chance of accomplishment, instead of much less likely to pass reparations. Jones defines intensity. Here he’s a moralistic bull amidst a China shop of halting, reactionary Democrats, who actually pose on the Congressional floor the notion that abolishing slavery might one day lead to, heaven forbid, blacks voting.
Will the go-for-broke seeking of the slavery amendment actually prolong the war? Even Lincoln himself isn’t certain. However, the President’s gnawing suspicion that it’s now or never provides his inner flame. He concludes that waiting will doom any chance of passing the amendment. So Lincoln brings on a trio of arm-twisting, job-promising provocateurs (including James Spader and John Hawkes). Ultimately, Stevens and even Lincoln himself join the lobbyists in hands-on dealing and imploring.
Meanwhile, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, as Lincoln’s older son, Robert, dying to join the war effort, runs up against Lincoln’s wife, Mary Todd Lincoln (a very good Sally Field). She has already lost an 11-year-old son to typhoid fever, and shudders at the prospect of losing another one to the war. This leaves Abe having to smooth out family tensions that are a microcosm of what he faces every day in the public sphere. Lewis and Field share a scene that roils with sparks-flying passion: hers, a fervent, about-to-lose-control yin; his, a centered, compassionate yang.
Ultimately Lincoln eloquently huffs and puffs its way into revealing what an actual democracy looks like. More reminiscent of the Lyndon Johnson administration than any since, Lincoln’s political machinations boldly remind us of how our current dysfunctional, gridlocked legislature is but a mere caricature of the real thing. One whiff of the wheeling and dealings here makes one wonder whether we even remain the same country anymore. Yet through the magic of Day-Lewis and the masterstroke of Spielberg/Cashier’s collaboration, this gem of a film engenders pride in our heritage. It exudes a happy/sad sense of certainty that even though a staggering 600,000 lives were lost in the Civil War, the courageous vision of one incredibly clever, iconoclastic president prevented things from becoming far worse. The film concludes, with conviction, that their lives had not been lost in vain.
5 Instant Classics (out of 5)