Harris on Lincoln: A Review (of sorts)

Over the last several days, I have been receiving a lot of notes asking if I had any comments on Steven Spielberg's, Lincoln. As it turns out - I do. Since Lincoln's release I have determined that there are roughly two sets of reviewers that  approach films contending with historical interpretation. Generally speaking, and I am certain that you will find exceptions to my sweeping strokes here, film critics tend to review with an eye toward performance and the portrayal of humanity against the often larger-than-life nature of the story's protagonists and  secondary characters.  They also are likely to judge whether the filmmaker captured the essence of the period in question: lighting, scenery, interiors, and other such crucial visual elements allowing the movie patron a genuine glimpse of said period. Historians, on the other hand, will be on the lookout for historical content and context. They will be sure to point out moments of accuracy and other scenes that are well...off the mark or distorted. Of course, you should probably not be surprised to find historians' comments critical of what did and did not make the historical cut.

I generally wear both hats when I see a period piece - this was indeed the rule when I saw Lincoln on opening day at the Hollywood Cinerama Dome. I tend to agree with film critics' assessment of Daniel Day-Lewis, Sally Field, and other actors' performances. Day-Lewis portrays an all too human Abraham and Field a convincingly troubled Mary - I expected as much from such tremendously talented actors. I also have to agree with historians such as Eric Foner for noting the lack of context when it came to the abolition movement broadly defined. And I found Megan Kate Nelson's discussion of the awkward dialogue between the film's black and white characters insightful. As of yet, I have not come across anyone discussing self-emancipation - but I am sure it will come up eventually.

But my thoughts have moved in a different direction since I saw Lincoln. I think of the weeks leading up to the film - the anticipation was really something to behold in the Civil War Internet world. From all the social media whoop-dee-do emerged a short and hardly seen interview with Steven Spielberg and Daniel Day-Lewis - a Q&A following a pre-screening of the film at...you guessed it, a film school. Spielberg especially was sensitive to the fact that he was presenting a very narrow view of a vast historical subject. He equated it (and I am paraphrasing here) to looking through to the other side of a fence through a tiny nail hole. His intention was to depict a sliver of history - not the history. I will admit  (as have my colleagues) that the opening scene with Lincoln in conversation with Union soldiers was hard to watch...forced and uncomfortable - but perhaps this was a cinematic device used intentionally to set an uneasy backdrop for a story that ultimately asks some difficult and hard to define questions about the nature of freedom. I will also admit that I have been harshly critical myself of historical films that get it wrong (i.e. Gettysburg, Gods and Generals). Lincoln does not get it wrong, it simply takes on a narrow scope. I will have to say that the film - in terms of the segment of history it intended to present (as opposed to the history that some might expect) - was a smashing success. Spielberg's mission was to provide a snapshot of the trying problems in early 1865 concerning a piece of legislation and to understand one man's struggles confronting them. It was a film about a man, his close circle of contemporaries, and an event, not about a movement. Steven Spielberg is admittedly not operating under any pretense that he is an historian, so I suspect that historians should not judge his film using our own rigorous standards, but rather, examine the film for its cultural import in the 21st century. Why is a film about Abraham Lincoln so important today? Are we still struggling with unresolved issues? Are political, racial, sectional, and cultural divisions embedded in our collective body politic? (hint: yes) Perhaps this is why Spielberg's films so resonates with such a vast audience.

As it is, the film can work as an inspirational stepping off point. I have connected with a number of people who have less than a passing interest in Civil War history who are now intrigued by the era, by Lincoln, and by the war in general. I even hear tell that books have been purchased. I call that a win.

K

The Worst Civil War Era Film Ever

Last night, I discovered that The Conspirator was available on Amazon Instant Video. Huzzah, I thought. Having the house to myself, I figured it a perfect time to enjoy a Civil War era film.

I made it through twenty minutes and turned it off.

Keep in mind, I have never walked out on or turned off any Civil War film. Ever. And I have sat through Gods and Generals TWICE. Clearly I am committed to Hollywood's take on this epic historical event. But I just could not stomach this wretched piece of rubbish.

If the first twenty minutes were any indication of things to come in the rest of the film, then I suppose I would have been treated to more over-wrought testaments to "American" jurisprudence - the right to a trial by one's peers and the notion of innocence before guilt can be established without any element of doubt. Thanks for the elementary lesson in  law.

But wait, there are more lessons to be learned here. Yes - Mary Surratt was indeed a woman. Her implication in the murder of Abraham Lincoln and her subsequent execution were shocking to be sure. Thanks for the elementary lesson in nineteenth-century gender assumptions.

The problem, at least in the first few scenes that I could watch, is that both of these issues are of great significance - then and now - and they were glossed over in a tisk-tisk fashion only after dripping a taste of sickening "look-at-how-we've-progressed-but-there's-still-work-to-be-done" syrup on for good measure. And even this was done so in a mumbly dead-pan stumble fest. Such nonsense can only amount to some of the worst writing, the worst acting, the worst directing, or a combination of the three. I would have been more riveted watching a plate of white toast get stale as time slowly, painfully passed.

Not that the film was completely lacking in merits. I got a bit of a chuckle at the actor who played (with all the southern-Gothic styling of a junior high production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof) John Wilkes Booth. His brutish pronunciation of the Virginia state motto in the Ford's Theatre scene - sic semper tyrannis - was delightful. I suppose this was merely an effort to "southernize" or if you like, "Rebelize" the president's assassin (who was a classically trained actor), by giving him a slightly raspier Jethro Bodine-esque accent. Such clumsy and obvious efforts make me laugh.

But who knows? Maybe the utter brilliance of rest of the film made up for the first twenty minutes. I will never know. Perhaps it got slightly less patronizingly preachy. Maybe there was a musical number. Maybe robots. If anyone has seen the whole thing, chime in.

K

 

Trailer for Spielberg's Lincoln

Okay - I am certainly on board with this film. But I always imagined Lincoln emphasizing the object of the preposition in the Gettysburg Address in this fashion:  "of the people, by the people, for the people" as opposed to the preposition itself as in "of the people, by the people, for the people."

Let the nitpicking begin.

K

Cosmic America Joins Forces with Wardance Pictures for The Reenactors

Greetings Cosmic Americans!

Yesterday I had lunch with Nick and Megan from Wardance Pictures - we went to El Coyote, which as you know by now....is one of my favorite restaurants in Los Angeles. They make a mean taco and the scratch margarita is the perfect way to kick off the afternoon.

But on to the subject at hand. Nick and Megan are the producers of a documentary (currently in the shooting stages) called The Reenactors - a character driven film that, as the producers say, will get to the heart of what makes these guys tick.

Huzzah my friends - you have taken up quite a challenge. One might think that such an endeavor would be easy - just follow around some guys who dress up like Civil War soldiers on the weekends and see what happens. But I would suggest that The Reenactors is a rather ambitious project. How will we really get to know the essence of reenacting (or reenactors)? Is there a common thread that bonds these guys together? These are the questions I will be asking as I watch this film (due out sometime in 2013). And I will be paying particularly close attention because I have signed on as the historical adviser.

The problem with the portrayal of Civil War reenacting in both popular media and the academic world is that they are often dismissed as being cut from one cloth. Sensationalist History Channel clips are good for ratings, I suppose, and scholars like Glenn Lafantasie - who think that reenactors are "foolish" can certainly kick up a fuss and get a good discussion going.

But should Civil War reenactors be dismissed, written off as foolish, or pigeonholed as wingnuts? Doing so would seem to me to be irresponsible reporting, bad scholarship, or whatever you want to call it. So if the producers of The Reenactors can get beyond that, as they have stated are their intentions, then they will have a success on their hands.

Bon chance!

Keith

Every Piece of This War is Man's Bullshit: The Women of Cold Mountain

Greetings Cosmic Americans!

I never miss a Civil War film. Cold Mountain?? I saw it in the theater years ago - and it took me three days to get through it the second time around. You can make what you want from that comment.

But despite my not so subtle thumbs down, I still find this film worth speaking about, simply because I find so many things troubling about it. In other words - expect more than one post about Cold Mountain.

Today - it's the ladies. I really want to speak about women in this film vis-a-vis Confederate nationalism. All - not some - but ALL of the women in Cold Mountain are outright opposed to the prospect of Confederate independence. I find this particularly odd. Sure, I am willing to concede that some white women in the South opposed the war - or rather - opposed the Confederacy. Of course, this was not the case - not by a long shot.

The film, based on the 1997 best-selling novel of the same title by Charles Frazier, indeed paints an alarmingly one dimensional portrait of the Confederacy's women - and manages to touch all socio-economic bases in the process. A quick rundown of the three central female characters:

Ada Monroe: a refined, sophisticated, well-to-do daughter of a slave-holding Charleston preacher.

Sally Swanger: neighborhood matriarch and the wife of a middling famer.

Ruby Thewes: abrasive, unsophisticated (yet literate) poor white woman.

All three of these women, despite their vast differences, seem very much in tune with one another when it comes to the prospect of Confederate independence - essentially written off in the beginning of the film as man's folly. "Did you get a picture made," Ada asks Inman, the male protagonist, "with your musket and courage on display?" And in the one of the film's culminating moments (there are several) Ruby sums things up pretty well - "They call this war a cloud over the land - but they made the weather. Then they stand in the rain and say shit it's raining!"

The truth is that one or all three of these women would have very likely supported independence, even if they had grown weary of war - something the author never develops...but something that was considerably important to a great many women. Yes friends, women may not have had the franchise in the 1860s, but were profoundly involved in the political process. They sent their men to war willingly, and in many cases, insisted their men enlist and fight for the cause. Why you ask? Because they had a stake in a slave-holding (and by the way, patriarchal) society. Independence fit very well within their white southern worldview. Those of you who wish to argue with me on this point may do so in the comments - I admit that I am vastly over-simplifying here.

On one hand the film's sentiment fits neatly with a scholarly approach suggesting the Confederacy did itself in internally - that precisely because women did not support the war effort (and thus independence) the fighting spirit of the new nation collapsed. Authors such as Drew Gilpin Faust and others have offered such analytical conclusions.

But - even a cursory look at the letters and diaries written by women during and shortly after the war suggest otherwise. Many were very much on board with a southern Confederacy and heartbroken when it did not materialize. So...the women in Cold Mountain who pray "the sooner we lose this war, the better" most definitely did not speak for everyone.

Peace,

Keith

Taking a Look at D. W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation

Greetings Cosmic Americans!

The game is afoot! After a lot of secondary reading and a peek in to the historical record I am beginning to formulate some questions concerning D. W. Griffith's 1915 film, The Birth of a Nation.

A few things are striking me as curiously glossed over in the literature on the film - things that I believe are worthy of further inquiry. Most scholars tend to reduce the controversy surrounding this film to racial conflict. In many ways, they are absolutely correct. The film's profoundly racist depiction of black people - whether they be boot-licking sycophants, buffoons, or lustful rapists - without question incited animosity among individual blacks, groups such as the NAACP, and progressive whites.

But connected to this racial conflict is the nagging problem of sectional animosities held over from the Civil War. Only 50 years removed from Appomattox, the war was still fresh in the memories of those who had lived through it. Further, the sons and daughters of the Civil War generation remained attached to sectional interpretations of the war's causes and consequences.

Many scholars would have you believe otherwise. Historians such as David Blight and others have insisted that the memory of the war had - by the twentieth century - been reduced to a mutual celebration of valor and fortitude.

Poppycock. It is becoming apparent to me that many white northern Americans in 1915 saw the Confederate cause as an traitorous abomination and a revolt against law and order. It seems quite logical that groups and individuals would condemn a film that celebrated Confederates as patriots and applauded extra-legal organizations such as the Ku Klux Klan.

In fact - Union veterans' organizations such as the Grand Army of the Republic led the charge against the screening of The Birth of a Nation suggesting that is was "untrue to the facts of history, [did] gross injustice to prominent and patriotic men of Reconstruction times, [was] insulting to colored citizens, and [tended] to glorify mob law."

This is sectionalism pure and simple. Northerners had fought to suppress rebellion - celebrating it 50 years after the fact seemed distasteful at best. Of course, millions in the North flocked to see The Birth of a Nation - and many were surely amazed at the spectacle of this new medium. But they didn't necessarily agree with the film's message.

At any rate, being one who resolutely believes that sectionalism is a central component in the study of American conflict and American history writ large, I am going to pursue this line of reasoning and see where it takes me. My driving questions: to what degree did the contentions of the Civil War remain in the twentieth-century North? How did the war generation influence subsequent generations? In what ways did The Birth of a Nation fuel sectional fires? And finally, the real nugget...are racial conflicts and sectional conflicts interwoven in American history?

I guess we'll just have to see.

peace,
Keith