The Search for a More Perfect Union: Revisiting ‘Lincoln’

There are few other figures in American history as explored or as studied as Abraham Lincoln, America’s 16th president. He is Honest Abe –– the president who led the United States through the Civil War, who issued the Emancipation Proclamation, who fell to an assassin’s bullet, and whose colossal likeness still soars over Washington, D.C. A film about such an iconic figure must accept the great challenge of rising above the many previous books and films.

Undeterred, director Steven Spielberg delivered a masterful, greatly ambitious film with his 2012 feature, “Lincoln.” Spielberg retells Lincoln's story in a refreshing manner, capturing his life as both a national icon and as a private man. Perhaps in tacit acknowledgement of Lincoln’s historical magnitude, Spielberg's two-and-a-half hour epic covers just the final months of Lincoln’s life and presidency. But in this narrow window, "Lincoln" conveys much more than who the famed president was — it also outlines the gravity of his historical moment. At issue is the 13th Amendment to ban slavery. In Spielberg’s telling, Lincoln is determined to pass it for the sake of freedom, equality, human dignity. But he and his allies must navigate racism, hatred, war, and political sludge. Principle against pragmatism, to compromise or to stand firm — these decisions make up the film's thematic core, and the consequences could not be greater.

In a film so dependent on character-driven drama, the depth and expressiveness of each actor’s performance is paramount. In this sense, Daniel Day-Lewis is characteristically superb and penetrative as the titular president: He is at once measured, passionate, and sincere. In Day-Lewis’s performance, there is Lincoln the icon — the towering and top-hatted, virtuous and self-assured leader. But there is also the Lincoln whose melancholy but composed visage betrays the burden he bears and the steadiness he projects. And there is also the Lincoln who dives constantly into meandering stories and jokes, who perhaps enjoys the political game.

Day-Lewis’s star-studded supporting cast deserves much credit, too. Sally Field, as Mary Todd Lincoln, adds further emotional depth to the film; her deep despair over the recent loss of her son and her perennial worry of whom she would lose next are palpable. Tommy Lee Jones, with his booming baritone voice, is well cast as the colorful orator and abolitionist representative Thaddeus Stevens. A pre-"Selma" David Oyelowo and Gloria Reuben also appear in impactful, albeit more limited, supporting roles.

With a measured pace and strong storytelling, these performances come together to weave a compelling narrative. The film is long but does not linger on more cursory moments — especially considering the scale of "Lincoln"'s characters and events. Janusz Kaminski’s patina-tinted cinematography sets the emotional tenor of the film, reflecting the gravity of the historical moment. This makes the conservative use of light even more arresting, from the sun-kissed chamber where the House votes on the 13th Amendment, to the soft, nearly ethereal daylight that illuminates Lincoln’s face in his last days. Likewise, composer John Williams’s score –– a Copland-like modern example of the “American Sound” –– is unusually understated but rich and dynamic. These artistic choices serve to transport audiences to 19th century Washington D.C.

The film is at its best in its most intimate moments. For instance, in a powerful scene where Lincoln sits all night with the telegraph operator (Adam Driver) and slowly reinforces his resolve to fight for the 13th Amendment, even as he risks prolonging the war. Perhaps most stirring are the scenes of hope and joy after the 13th Amendment passes.

Eight years after its release, many of the film’s political themes remain relevant today. At its heart, “Lincoln” is a paean to a man unwavering and ever-persistent in his pursuit of and belief in “the better angels of our nature.” Lincoln, the film argues, was an incrementalist tethered to reality who nonetheless strived for, and achieved, great change.

In recalling the achievements of Lincoln’s final months, Spielberg's film projects a great faith in the American system. At the nation’s most critical juncture, the legislative system accomplished momentous positive change and the president reached for an ever better Union to prove that “democracy isn’t chaos.” It is a message of hope that for many (more so today than eight years ago) will stand as one full of optimism, if tinged with naive idealism.

In the film’s epilogue, Lincoln delivers the final lines of his second inaugural address. “Let us strive on to finish the work we are in,” Lincoln proclaims, “to bind up the nation’s wounds… to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.” These words surely rang loudly in 1865 and reverberated deeply in 2012. Eight years on, within an extraordinary and monumental political and societal moment, Lincoln’s words ring resoundingly still.

Staff writer Alexander W. Tam can be reached at alexander.tam@thecrimson.com.