 Tagline: Won 2 Oscars and nominated for 10 more. From DreamWorks, Steven Spielberg directs two-time Academy Award winner Daniel Day-Lewis (Best Actor, There Will Be Blood, 2007, and My Left Foot, 1989) in Lincoln - with an all-star ensemble cast including Sally Field, Tommy Lee Jones and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. This inspiring and revealing drama focuses on the 16th President's tumultuous final four months in office as this visionary leader pursues a course of action to end the Civil War, unite the country and abolish slavery. Complete with never-before-seen footage featuring Steven Spielberg and the cast, who take you deep inside the making of the movie, Lincoln sheds light on a man of moral courage and fierce determination. Storyline: In 1865, as the American Civil War winds inexorably toward conclusion, U.S. president Abraham Lincoln endeavors to achieve passage of the landmark constitutional amendment which will forever ban slavery from the United States. However, his task is a race against time, for peace may come at any time, and if it comes before the amendment is passed, the returning southern states will stop it before it can become law. Lincoln must, by almost any means possible, obtain enough votes from a recalcitrant Congress before peace arrives and it is too late. Yet the president is torn, as an early peace would save thousands of lives. As the nation confronts its conscience over the freedom of its entire population, Lincoln faces his own crisis of conscience -- end slavery or end the war. Written by Jim Beaver Reviewer's Note: Reviewed by Kenneth Brown on March 18, 2013 -- Whenever Steven Spielberg has stood trial for a crime against cinema, it's been a crime of passion. With the exception of Jaws and Raiders of the Lost Ark -- each a perfect movie, if such a thing exists -- Spielberg's vice has long been his love of the tale, the art and the craft. He plucks heartstrings once too often (I would argue The Color Purple, some would argue Schindler's List), or in some cases, for two hours at a time (War Horse leaps to mind). He extends an otherwise tight experience one scene too many (A.I. Artificial Intelligence, War of the Worlds) or, every now and again, reduces an entire third act to a tangent (The Lost World, Minority Report). He sometimes suddenly and without provocation indulges in excessive melodrama or theatrics (The Color Purple), or indulges altogether to rare yet disastrous ends (Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). Unlike Spielberg's fundamentally flawed films or lesser efforts, Lincoln finds the filmmaker indulging in something unexpected and most refreshing: restraint. And not just any restraint. Bold, divisive restraint. He doesn't attempt to paint broad strokes of Lincoln's presidency, focusing instead on the last four months of the 16th President's life. He doesn't cover Lincoln's many achievements, selecting one and one alone. He doesn't embed the film in the mire of the Civil War, shy from the complexities of the political era or over-embellish the war of politics Lincoln led from the White House after his re-election in 1864. In fact, Spielberg, doesn't play by the Biopic Rules at all, fashioning a riveting political drama that actively engages hearts and minds with Lincoln's shrewdest tactics, most steadfast principles, most resolute maneuverings and his noblest pursuit. January, 1865. The Civil War has taken a tremendous toll on the South and the Confederacy is struggling to survive. Victory is all but assured for the North. The only holdout? Surprisingly, President Abraham Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis), who refuses to press the advantage, even going so far as to actively delay peace talks. Fearing it will be his Emancipation Proclamation of 1863 that will be abolished at war's end, rather than slavery, he stands firm, demanding the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution -- outlawing slavery and involuntary servitude -- be passed by the House of Representatives by February. To do so, though, Lincoln and Secretary of State William H. Seward (David Strathairn) have to convince a handful of lame duck Democrats to side with the Radical Republicans and help push the Amendment through. No small feat considering the contentious climate of the House and the forces of will coming to bear on the debate, above all vitriolic Democrat Fernando Wood (Lee Pace) and Republican Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones), an abolitionist ideologue whose goals are even loftier than Lincoln's. What follows is a tense race to secure enough votes to pass the first Constitutional Amendment in more than sixty years, a fascinating foray into the history of American politics, and a compelling character drama. There comes a moment midway through Lincoln in which Spielberg, Oscar-nominated screenwriter Tony Kushner and award-winning method chameleon Daniel Day-Lewis offer an unfiltered glimpse into the inner-workings of Abraham Lincoln's mind. It only happens to such a densely packed extent once, and only lasts a few short minutes. But in those minutes we see Lincoln the decent and honorable man, unwilling to waver in his moral convictions, whatever the cost. The master tactician, willing to commit lesser political sins for the greater common good. The discerning Springfield lawyer, divining lawful from unlawful. The cunning politician, navigating the endless labyrinth of legalities, sanctions and allowances before him. The eloquent orator, rich in speech and sharp in tongue. The President of "these United States," with full authority and a frightening command of his faculties; a contrast to his aging body, declining posture and careful steps. It's a breathtaking scene, unapologetically minimalistic in its presentation -- a camera transfixed by Lincoln's weary face -- yet nearly inexhaustible in both its implication and revelation: I decided that the Constitution gives me war powers, but no one knows just exactly what those powers are. Some say they don't exist. I don't know. I decided I needed them to exist to uphold my oath to protect the Constitution, which I decided meant that I could take the rebel's slaves from them as property confiscated in war. That might recommend to suspicion that I agree with the rebs that their slaves are property in the first place. Of course, I don't. Never have. I'm glad to see any man free, and if calling a man property, or war contraband, does the trick... why I caught at the opportunity. Now here's where it gets truly slippery. I use the law allowing for the seizure of property in a war knowing it applies only to the property of governments and citizens of belligerent nations. But the South ain't a nation, that's why I can't negotiate with them. If in fact the Negroes are property according to law, have I the right to take the rebels' property from them, if I insist they're rebels only and not citizens of a belligerent country? And slipperier still: I maintain it ain't our actual Southern states in rebellion but only the rebels living in those states, the laws of which states remain in force. The laws of which states remain in force. That means, that since it's the states' laws that determine whether Negroes can be sold as slaves, as property, the Federal government doesn't have a say in that. Least not yet when Negroes in those states are slaves, hence property, hence my war powers allow me to confiscate them as such. So I confiscated them. But if I'm a respecter of states' laws, how then can I legally free them with my Proclamation, as I done, unless I'm canceling states' laws? I felt the war demanded it. My oath demanded it. I felt right with myself, and I hoped it was legal to do it. I'm hoping still. Two years ago I proclaimed these people emancipated. "Then, hence forward and forever free." But let's say the courts decide I had no authority to do it. They might well decide that. Say there's no amendment abolishing slavery. Say it's after the war and I can no longer use my war powers to just ignore the courts' decisions, like I sometimes felt I had to do. Might those people I freed be ordered back into slavery? That's why I'd like to get the Thirteenth Amendment through the House, and on its way to ratification by the states. Wrap the whole slavery thing up, forever and aye. As soon as I'm able. Now. End of this month. And I'd like you to stand behind me. Like my cabinet's most always done. There are dozens of similar unorthodox dramatic beats -- some moving, some cerebral, some heartbreaking, some volatile -- but each one is just as hypnotic, if not more so. Daniel Day-Lewis' performance has been hailed as one of the greatest of his generation, and awarded numerous honors including a much-deserved Academy Award. Day-Lewis doesn't merely inhabit Lincoln's frame and figure, he all but summons the former President to Spielberg's stunningly realized historic stage, drawing from every available account of Lincoln's poise, presence and personality to forge a fully realized incarnation almost indistinguishable and henceforth inseparable from the man himself. And while much has been made of the actor's extreme method and utter commitment to the role, the results defy hyperbole and even what relatively little criticism has been leveled against the film. To wit: it isn't just one of the finest performances of 2012, it's one of the finest performances you'll likely ever see. The lion's share of the credit can't simply be hoisted upon Day-Lewis' shoulders, though. Spielberg's command of the film rivals Day-Lewis' command of the screen, Kushner's screenplay (whittled down from a mammoth first draft) and dialogue crackles with uncompromising authenticity and reasonable creative freedom, Janusz Kaminski's cinematography is both gorgeous and wonderfully suited to the tone and tenor of the film, Rick Carter's production design and Joanna Johnston's costumes are wholly convincing... I could go on and on. Day-Lewis steals most every scene, I'll grant you, but any given scene is only his for the taking because of the enormously talented team working tirelessly at Spielberg's side. Surrounding Day-Lewis' Lincoln is also a smartly assembled supporting cast of memorable veterans and colorful character actors (some a bit too colorful). Sally Field, Tommy Lee Jones, Gloria Reuben and David Strathairn are terrific; Field especially, whose impassioned, sometimes embittered portrayal of a somewhat questionably astute Mary Todd Lincoln challenges Day-Lewis as fiercely as Lincoln's wife challenges the President. The majority of the remaining cast deliver as well, often one after another (Lee Pace, Hal Holbrook, Jackie Earle Haley, John Hawkes, Jared Harris, Walton Goggins, Stephen Henderson little Gulliver McGrath, to name just a few), and only a handful of actors are miscast, mismanaged or inject too much stagecraft into the proceedings (namely Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Bruce McGill and James Spader). Lincoln isn't a perfect film, mind you. The inevitable and arguably unavoidable historical inaccuracies will rile obstinate history buffs, even if those inaccuracies are so minor that any ensuing effect is negligible. The steadfast focus on the politics of war rather than any real look at the war itself will leave some viewers dissatisfied with everything from Spielberg and Kushner's pacing to their personal politics (of which little bleeds through). As far as I'm concerned, though, any concerns over pacing or hidden agendas amount to a non-issue, and in most cases nothing more than a thinly veiled version of "it's too long and too slow for me." Personally, aside from Gordon-Levitt, McGill, Spader and their ilk, I only have one problem with Lincoln, and it's the same misstep Spielberg took in Saving Private Ryan, an otherwise extraordinary film. That misstep? Unnecessary bookending. The cemetery scenes that open and close Saving Private Ryan are more egregious and irritating, but Lincoln isn't exempt; opening with a silent, masterfully shot glance at the brutality of war that's suddenly spoiled by an overtly sentimental and shamelessly contrived exchange between the President and a pair of African American soldiers, and closing with a strange dance-around Lincoln's assassination that stumbles into a flashback. Had the film began on a more subtle, less manipulative note, it would have been stronger for it. Had it ended as Lincoln left the White House, bound for Ford Theater, it would have been far more pointed and poignant; even if his exit dovetailed into the flashback, which, on its own merit, works quite well. Regardless, Lincoln is an absorbing account of four months of the 16th President's life, powerful political theater and an engrossing period piece, and I'm frankly baffled every time I come across a complete dismissal of everything Spielberg and company have accomplished. I'm sure as baffled as those same viewers feel when reading such high praise as mine. To each his own, I suppose. Lincoln remains one of the most acclaimed and celebrated films of 2012, and deservedly so. Cast Notes: Daniel Day-Lewis (Abraham Lincoln), Sally Field (Mary Todd Lincoln), David Strathairn (William Seward), Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Robert Lincoln), James Spader (W.N. Bilbo), Hal Holbrook (Preston Blair), Tommy Lee Jones (Thaddeus Stevens), John Hawkes (Robert Latham), Jackie Earle Haley (Alexander Stephens), Bruce McGill (Edwin Stanton), Tim Blake Nelson (Richard Schell), Joseph Cross (John Hay), Jared Harris (Ulysses S. Grant), Lee Pace (Fernando Wood), Peter McRobbie (George Pendleton). IMDb Rating (03/26/13): 7.6/10 from 80,051 users IMDb Rating (03/08/13): 7.7/10 from 70,716 users IMDb Rating (12/20/12): 8.3/10 from 18,060 users
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