Sally Field, Tony Kushner, and Stephen Spielberg: A Match Made in Overindulgent
Hell
Lincoln is fantastic. Genuinely fantastic. From the
brilliant opening scene to the Tommy Lee Jones reveal. I was in.
I don’t need or want to see it again, but I was in.
And Daniel Day-Lewis is the clear frontrunner to win the
Oscar for Best Actor. Well deserved.
Or is it? Perhaps not. His performance is very consistent,
maintaining an even level of energy and temperament throughout, which gives us
the idea that Lincoln himself was a very methodical, thoughtful man. And he may
have been, but let me offer another interpretation.
Without intending to take away from his great performance, I
cannot help but wonder if he was simply refusing to partake in the same
overindulgent, bloviated work his colleagues were turning in. Sally Field, Tony
Kushner, and The Great and Powerful Spielberg (aka,
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Criticized) spend a lot of energy seemingly trying to ruin
this film with lazy choices.
Exhibit A: Sally Field
Sally Field never met a turn-crying-into-anger moment she
didn’t milk. Let’s face it, it works for her. She does it well, but I don’t
believe her anymore. She’s used it so effectively in the past that it’s become
a parody of itself.
She first capitalized on it in Steel Magnolias in the famous
“Take a Whack at Ouisa” scene:
She then followed that up with the purposefully
overindulgent Soap Dish:
Keep those two in mind as you watch this clip.
I literally had to stifle a laugh in the theater. I was
expecting Olympia Dukakis and Shirley MacLaine to show up.
Other choices could have been made that could have made the
scene more powerful and her more sympathetic. She shouldn’t not win the Oscar
because of Anne Hathaway. She should not win because of her laziness as an
actor.
Exhibit B: Tony Kushner
Upfront admission: I’ve never been a fan of Kushner’s work.
I think Angels in America is awful. AWFUL. Never have I wanted to see an entire
group of characters kill themselves more than in that Pity-Me-filled play.
His work on Lincoln, however, is a different story. The film
is appropriately heady and dialoguey. The sentimental moments, even Sally
Field’s pathetic scene above, were very well-written. Most everything made
sense (the carriage scene is nonsense). Until this:
Can you guess what’s going to happen next? Of course you
can!
As a writer, this frustrated me to no end and took me right
out of the movie. Why? Because it’s false. What does ‘false’ mean? It simply
means that it doesn’t fit the rest of the script.
Case study: The Gettysburg Address.
We all knew it was going to be in the film—it had to be. And
we all expected that it would be in there in the standard way—a reenactment of
Lincoln giving the speech. But no. Kushner (as much as I generally dislike his
work, I do recognize that he’s brilliant) is too smart for that. He managed to find a brilliant solution to
getting the Gettysburg Address into the movie—the opening scene, in fact, which
simultaneously reset our expectations for what we were about to witness.
And he succeeds with those reset expectations the rest of
the film. The character motivations are clear with being pandering. The
conflicts are clear and respectful of each side. And the subtle moments,
specifically with Lincoln and the youngest son, are genuine (in both performance
and writing).
“Well, I…” does not fit with the rest of Kushner’s script.
It’s an Andrew Lloyd Webber lyric in a Sondheim show. It’s a lazy, throwaway
line meant to transition us to the denouement of the film.
And I don’t believe that Kushner wrote it, for the reasons
stated above, and for a second reason that brings us to…
Exhibit C: Spielberg.
Give me a minute to rid myself of the forced emotion that
I’ve been trained to experience when I hear his name. You can do the same by
repeating the phrase, “Spielberg CAN be criticized. Spielberg CAN be
criticized. He’s not Oprah. He’s not Oprah. He’s not Oprah.”
Feel better? Feel like a layer of sugary caramel coating has
been lifted off your emotional self? It’s so nice to have clarity.
Spielberg is most successful as a filmmaker when he is able
to get out of his own way. Lincoln is a highly successful film up through the
scene where Tommy Lee Jones’ character’s true motivation is revealed. That is
the point when the film should have ended. We all know what happened to
Lincoln. Though the movie may have felt incomplete without the assassination,
it wasn’t necessary. This isn’t a biopic on his life. This is the story of his
struggles, personal and professional, to abolish slavery. Had the film shown
his assassination in the context of that struggle, it would have been
necessary. But it didn’t. It showed his assassination in the context of a young
boy losing his father.
And this is the problem with Spielberg. A common theme of
his, probably the most common, is that of absentee parents and the resulting
difficulties on the child(ren). Close Encounters, ET, Indiana Jones, Empire of
the Sun, Schindler’s List, Catch Me If You Can, Munich…all have abandonment,
absenteeism, or reluctance to parent. This theme by itself is not a problem,
and has been used effectively in many films. However, there are some stories
where it doesn’t necessarily belong. It certainly doesn’t belong in Lincoln.
The film would have been much stronger had he ended it at
the first ending. And, I believe, the Oscar predictions would look much
different than they do now. My prediction? 1 Oscar, for Daniel Day-Lewis. Maybe one for Spielberg, but only
because Ben Affleck was overlooked.
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