Abraham Lincoln bio-pics are America's national pantomime, not intended to be original or thought-provoking. This version stands out somewhat, as it's based on one of Gore Vidal's carefully themed historical novels, rooted in an exceptionally thorough study of American history, in which his ancestors played such a dominant role.
One of the themes is race, as we gather in the opening seconds, with a throaty chorus of 'This Train' that deliberately hits us over the head with its freedom message, though Lincoln is not chiefly identified as an abolitionist, his meeting with black leaders being quite confrontational. The theme is explored further through Mary Lincoln's dressmaker, the ex-slave Elizabeth Keckley, with whom the First Lady strikes up a strong rapport, and orders vast new wardrobes, far beyond Abe's ability to pay. When someone leaves a draft of Abe's forthcoming state-of-the-union speech in Mary's boudoir, carelessly mentioning that the press would pay a fortune for a preview of it, this puts ideas in Mary's head, though we can't reveal more... But the theme of corruption in Washington is ever-present, with Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase's son-in-law William Sprague found guilty of cotton-trading with the enemy on a massive scale.
Star of the show is Mary Tyler Moore, better than I have ever seen her, turning in a heartfelt performance as Mary Lincoln, tortured with mental illness, quarrelling endlessly with Abe, but collapsing hysterically at his deathbed. Abe is played by Sam Waterston, taking the character out of his usual churchy solemnity, and into a cheerful, jokey mode that was actually closer to the real thing. His face is made to age quite a lot over the four tumultuous years, though his remark to Mary in the last carriage-ride to the theatre ("Today I haven't got to worry about anything") is historic, and she said she'd never seen him looking so carefree. Chase's daughter Kate is well-played by the lovely Deborah Adair, who exploits the sumptuous inaugural ball to pass on political gossip in mid-dance. And John Houseman, well into his eighties, is just right as the ageing and infirm General-in-Chief Winfield Scott.
Only a few quibbles. In Willard's Hotel, Ulysses Grant is seen drinking a clear fluid that looks suspiciously like water - not something he was usually accused of (unless it was a signal that he was having to face-down suspicions of drunkenness). The dialogue suffers from occasional 'idiot board' edits, as in "our presidential elections in November", as though anybody wouldn't know they're always in November. And not all the accents are quite right or consistent; both Mary and Kate sometimes sound as though they're slipping into Southern speech.
Finally, this is the only Lincoln film I've seen that actually shows him wandering through his famous dream, where he is told that the president has been assassinated - a rare case of a precognitive dream that can be fully authenticated, both from diary entries and dialogue with colleagues.
One of the themes is race, as we gather in the opening seconds, with a throaty chorus of 'This Train' that deliberately hits us over the head with its freedom message, though Lincoln is not chiefly identified as an abolitionist, his meeting with black leaders being quite confrontational. The theme is explored further through Mary Lincoln's dressmaker, the ex-slave Elizabeth Keckley, with whom the First Lady strikes up a strong rapport, and orders vast new wardrobes, far beyond Abe's ability to pay. When someone leaves a draft of Abe's forthcoming state-of-the-union speech in Mary's boudoir, carelessly mentioning that the press would pay a fortune for a preview of it, this puts ideas in Mary's head, though we can't reveal more... But the theme of corruption in Washington is ever-present, with Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase's son-in-law William Sprague found guilty of cotton-trading with the enemy on a massive scale.
Star of the show is Mary Tyler Moore, better than I have ever seen her, turning in a heartfelt performance as Mary Lincoln, tortured with mental illness, quarrelling endlessly with Abe, but collapsing hysterically at his deathbed. Abe is played by Sam Waterston, taking the character out of his usual churchy solemnity, and into a cheerful, jokey mode that was actually closer to the real thing. His face is made to age quite a lot over the four tumultuous years, though his remark to Mary in the last carriage-ride to the theatre ("Today I haven't got to worry about anything") is historic, and she said she'd never seen him looking so carefree. Chase's daughter Kate is well-played by the lovely Deborah Adair, who exploits the sumptuous inaugural ball to pass on political gossip in mid-dance. And John Houseman, well into his eighties, is just right as the ageing and infirm General-in-Chief Winfield Scott.
Only a few quibbles. In Willard's Hotel, Ulysses Grant is seen drinking a clear fluid that looks suspiciously like water - not something he was usually accused of (unless it was a signal that he was having to face-down suspicions of drunkenness). The dialogue suffers from occasional 'idiot board' edits, as in "our presidential elections in November", as though anybody wouldn't know they're always in November. And not all the accents are quite right or consistent; both Mary and Kate sometimes sound as though they're slipping into Southern speech.
Finally, this is the only Lincoln film I've seen that actually shows him wandering through his famous dream, where he is told that the president has been assassinated - a rare case of a precognitive dream that can be fully authenticated, both from diary entries and dialogue with colleagues.