At the outset, the obvious must be noted: As a historical figure, Abraham Lincoln has long since taken on mythic proportions. His aphorisms are carved in granite; his face will forever occupy our currency. As a man, Lincoln was so enigmatic and complex as to be almost unknowable. No single movie could ever encapsulate everything he once was and reconcile that with everything he still is. Thankfully, Lincoln recognizes this fact and simply offers a small sample of its subject’s life, in the hopes of conveying his mystical combination of greatness and goodness. On this front, Steven Spielberg’s historical epic resoundingly succeeds.
Loosely pulled from Doris Kearns Goodwin’s book, Team of Rivals, Lincoln focuses on his final months. It’s early 1865, the Civil War is in its final gasps. As he enters an ill-fated second term, Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis) begins the tricky work of stitching the country back together. At the same time, he must also address the issue of slavery, once and for all. This solution would take the form of the Constitution’s 13th Amendment, which would codify abolition everywhere, all for all time. To achieve this monumental task, Lincoln would have to collaborate with a histrionic and deeply divided Congress.
The bulk of the film focuses on the political wrangling necessary to shoehorn this amendment into law. This primary plot offers two crucial (and disparate) aspects to Lincoln’s persona: The first is Lincoln the Realist. Throughout his presidency, Lincoln developed into a shrewd, agile politician. He could often zero in to what must be done, and find a way to do it without getting his own hands dirty. In this instance, Lincoln and William Seward (David Strathairn), his droll Secretary of State, would deploy two sketchy operatives to work behind the scenes. William Bilbo (James Spader) and Richard Schell (Tim Blake Nelson) dwell in the back alleys and dark corridors, making the offers and applying the pressure that Lincoln never could.
At the same time, we also catch a glimpse of Lincoln the Idealist. When the war began, Lincoln publicly maintained a shaky neutrality in regards to slavery, but his attitude evolved into that of a dedicated abolitionist. As the film hints, Lincoln was a man both of and beyond his time. He could look through the long glass of history and see that if the United States were to ever be the best version of itself, then the evil of slavery would have to reach an immediate and permanent end. When Lincoln campaigns for the 13th Amendment, he knows the very soul of the country is at stake.
The remainder of the film offers two other sides of Lincoln. In one, we see Lincoln as a folksy charmer, prone to long-winded homilies. He loved to tell stories, allowing his drawl to carefully massage every word. (At one point, the cranky, volcanic Secretary of Defense Stanton erupts: “No! He’s going to tell another story!”) If it weren’t for politics, Lincoln probably would’ve made a talented clergyman.
For the final side of Lincoln’s persona, the film digs its deepest emotional well: Interspersed between the political chicanery, many scenes show us Lincoln as a brokenhearted family man. Three years before the events of this film, Willie, the Lincolns’ middle–and by some accounts, favorite–child, had contracted a mystery fever and died in the White House. Neither parent would ever recover from the loss. Mary Todd (Sally Field) became moodier and even more erratic, employing psychic mediums to try and contact her dead son. Meanwhile, Abraham would suffer bouts of gloom and insomnia. “I’m a tired man,” he once said. “Sometimes I think I am the tiredest man on Earth.” Here, even Lincoln’s brightest moments are tinged with melancholia.
Day-Lewis captures all of these facets in a performance for the ages. He simply vanishes into the role, capturing all of Lincoln’s well-known quirks: From his affable smile and high nasally voice to his distinctive, homespun vernacular. Such a monolithic individual would be intimidating for most actors, but Day-Lewis charges in with his trademark fearlessness. This role would win him a third Academy Award.
Indeed, Day-Lewis is so good, he almost overshadows the top-tier work of an all-star cast. Tommy Lee Jones is excellent as Rep. Thaddeus Stevens, a canny, grouchy, and passionate abolitionist. Ditto for Field, who perfectly plays Mary Lincoln as a tender-hearted neurotic. Spader and Nelson also have fun as the boozy, profane lobbyists who provide the grungy means to a righteous end. Only one nitpick: The film doesn’t know what to do with Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Robert Todd Lincoln. His squabbles with his father get lost in the film’s dense thicket of plot points. As such, this story arc rings a bit hollow.
But that’s a tiny blemish on an otherwise perfect movie. In the hands of Spielberg and his team, Lincoln is a jaw-dropping work of cinema. Famed cinematographer Janusz Kamiński bathes much of the film in gorgeous, white-hot sunlight. John Williams often deploys flourishes of achingly sad piano cues, underscoring the pall of depression that often hovered over Lincoln. Kudos also go to Joanna Johnston’s costumes and Rick Carter’s incredible production design. All of Spielberg’s usual collaborators bring this time and place to life with stunning results.
Best of all: Lincoln only gets better with age. New viewings only yield more things to appreciate. No doubt, this will endure as one of Spielberg’s great films. (I would place it right behind Schindler and Private Ryan.) Even if no one film could capture the mythos of this subject, Lincoln still achieves something miraculous: It examines everything that made Abraham Lincoln a towering figure, while also presenting him as a flawed and frustrated human being. We learn more about him, and actually gain respect in the process. This is one of the best historical movies ever made.
150 min. PG-13.
