Lincoln, Lincoln, I been thinkin'....A Movie Review

When I saw the preview for Steven Spielberg's Lincoln, months ago, and then every time since, I cried.  I've always had a fascination with the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln, and everything surrounding that fateful time in our history...and I'm a hopeless sucker for John Williams' movie scores.

I wasn't sure it could live up to what I had hoped for, but I'm happy to say that when 2 hours and 29 minutes were up, I didn't realize how much time had passed and I didn't want it to end.

First of all, this was truly an actor's movie.  Some films are simply vehicles for next year's Best Actor/Actress to show off their work.  (I'm talking to you, J. Edgar.)  They come out looking like somebody slapped a hundred carat Diamond hood-ornament on a crappy Chevy Nova, and hoped no one would see past the diamond.  It wasn't the case with Lincoln.

This movie was a constellation of some of the best character actors in the business, and because it was a period movie, there was a character in it for everyone.  Not only did Daniel Day-Lewis get to do his method thing, but the extras had to look legit, and the under-five-liners had to perfect their dialects, their posture, their mannerisms. Just one hair or inflection out of place would have ruined the magic of our trip back to 1865.

The supporting cast was so colorful and rich, Lincoln himself faded into the background at times.  Sally Field played the part of the tortured Mary Todd Lincoln with a depth and passion that captured the turmoil that she no doubt experienced having to be along for that ride.  Gulliver McGrath and Joseph Gordon-Levitt had two very different and very real relationships with their father.  Tommy Lee Jones played Republican Thaddeus Stevens like a crumpled, old troll with a greyhound-headed cane, but the passion that burned within him made him shine.  Gloria Reuben brought passion to the role of Elizabeth Keckley, Mrs. Lincoln's servant, whose son had died fighting for the Union, for freedom.   Peter McRobbie and Lee Pace played detestable Democrat bullies.  James Spader, John Hawkes, and Tim Blake Nelson, who took their relatively small, but major roles and ran with them, were both comic relief and an important look into the role of lobbyists in Congress.  Hal Holbrook looked like someone had gone back to 1865 and bottled him up in a time-capsule to bring him back as Preston Blair---and not just because he's super old in real life.

This movie is also a wonderful lesson, not only in the life of Abraham Lincoln, but the process of government--the wheelings and dealings and bribes and betrayals that go into passing laws and amendments, and how close we came to not passing something that we take for granted now: the 13th Amendment: the Abolition of Slavery.  Parents should take their kids, and teachers, once its available, should take a couple days to show it to their classes, maybe before Christmas break next year---because seriously, who really wants to do work in the few days before Christmas?  Ok, I digress.

Then, there was Lincoln, himself, Daniel Day-Lewis.  His work was meticulous.  From Lincoln's gait to his flat, high-timbred, mid-west dialect, Daniel became Abe.  Day-Lewis captured the charisma of the Great Emancipator, both with the deep connections that were visible between him and the other characters, but also in the moments where Lincoln seemed to "disappear", lost in thought, wheels turning heavily.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the music, cinematography, writing, make-up, costume, etc etc etc.  Lincoln had the golden touch of Spielberg and his cabinet all over it, which meant that you were too busy living in it to notice it.  It'll take a couple more trips back to the theatre to be able to say much more than that.

When I walked out of the theater, I found myself thinking more about the performances of the other actors, and hardly thinking about Day-Lewis at all.  This morning, however, in that groggy time between sleeping and waking, I found myself thinking about Lincoln, not in the context of the movie, but in some other scene plucked from some other story of Lincoln that had been tucked away in my memory.  When I reached full consciousness, I realized that it was Daniel-Day Lewis's Lincoln that had now taken the place of whatever image of Lincoln I had been working with before.

I guess, for me, his work transcended the performance of the role in the movie.  The man brought the legend to life.   Lincoln was not perfect.  His family life was tumultuous and he was prone to anger.  He was human.  But, it was clear, that, at least, this Lincoln, at his heart, was pure.

Trudy and Joe: A Love Story

I recently started working as an Aide in a physical therapy clinic.  The job is not rocket science.   It consists of making and un-making a lot of beds, wiping countless surfaces with disinfecting wipes, and explaining the same exercises dozens of times a day, hundreds of times a week, thousands of times…ok, you get the picture.  It’s a humbling job, but it’s also a very rewarding job.  Working in an environment like this, we get a chance to see people at their most vulnerable.   It’s almost like working with kids because they are so willing to keep an open-mind and put their trust in us, no matter how foolish they might feel doing an exercise, especially barely being able to walk in same cases. On rare occasions, they can be obstinate and impatient, but most of the time they are kind and cooperative because they see you as an ally on their road to recovery. 

It didn’t take long for me to get bored of the physical tasks of the job.  But there is one good thing about being a conversationalist (ok, chatty.)  Once you get people talking, they tell you their life stories.  You would have no idea, looking at some of them, the random and exciting things that have happened to them.  Because of HIPAA regulations, I will never be able to tell actual stories of patients, but I can take bits and pieces of my interactions with them, their lives, jumble them up, and use them to create fiction.  Here is a piece that I wrote based on one afternoon at work:

Trudy and Joe

By: Shannon Madden

Gertrude Estrada stumbled on her crutches to the edge of the workout table. 

            “You want me to get on there?” she whimpered.

            “Yes,” I said, sliding a stool to the foot of the table. “We can take it nice and easy.  Just step up here and lean forward and you’ll just slide right onto the bed.”

            “I can’t I’m scared.” 

She looked at me, her brown eyes watery, underlined with little black scratches of mascara. Her golden-straw hair was styled in loose, short waves.  She looked every bit her seventy years, if not more, but you could tell that once she was a beauty, though not classically so---more Bette Davis than Anne Baxter.

“C’mon, Trudy.  This is nothing.  Get up there.”  Her husband Joe coaxed her firmly.  He was Filipino, with striking blue eyes, dressed more for a yacht than a therapy clinic. 

Gertrude looked back and forth at us before solemnly handing off her crutches to Joe.  Her right knee was swollen, slashed by a healing wound from a total reconstruction.  She was several weeks post-op, and her leg was far from straight, needing a lot of work to restore its range of motion.  Gertrude took a ginger step onto the stool and then another. 

“No, no, no,” she cried again, like a little kid on the edge of the high-dive who has had a terrified change of heart.

Joe rolled his eyes, “Trudy, you get up on that table.  We’ve worked on this.  It’s nothing new.”

“It’s ok, Trudy.  You’re just going to let your legs hang off so you can stretch out those hamstrings.  It’ll help your leg get a little bit straighter.  It’s a gentle little stretch.” I said.

Her brow scrunched, peering at me, not buying it.  I stifled my laughter.  If she had been a pound puppy, I would have adopted her. 

In the corner, Ellie, a sizable teenager, sat with icepacks on her knees.  Her mother sat next to her with a baby.   They snickered as they watched Gertrude struggle with the precipice of the exam table. 

“Oh, stop being such a baby, Trudy,” Joe said, giving her a devilish smile.  Gertrude stuck her tongue out at him and continued to stall.

----

Special Agent Goldstein stared across the hollow body of the plane.  The whirr of the motor would have been intolerable to most civilians, but as a seasoned agent of the CIA, and one of its few women, she had made dozens, if not hundreds of jumps, and her ears had become accustomed to the noise.

“Joey.  You’ve done this before.  The only thing that’s different will be not having this old monkey strapped to your back.”  Her attempt at humor fell short of the young man staring back at her, his blue eyes and tense neck muscles betraying his fear.  He didn’t move.

“Yeah, and we’ll be dropping into enemy territory.  This isn’t flight school.  Just gimme a minute, will ya?”

“Hey fella, this is what you signed on for.  I wouldn’t let you jump without me if I didn’t think you could get to the ground safely.”  Agent Goldstein had faced this moment before with many of her trainees during their first solo jump in the field.  Nothing like a 14,000 foot dive to make a grown man whimper.

“C’mon Joey, stop being such a baby.”

Nothing like a blow to a grown man’s ego to get him moving.  Joey began to shift, lumbering toward the sliding door as Agent Goldstein tugged at the massive port.  The cold wind of the high altitude rushed into the plane as the two agents scooted to the edge of the floor.

Side-by-side, they gave each other a lingering glance, and, all of a sudden, a current of trust passed between them. 

“Will it make you feel better to hold my hand?”  Agent Goldstein winked, only somewhat in jest.  She never would have said that to any of the other agents she had trained, but she had a soft spot for this one.

“No, I’m fine,” Joey said, then compromised, “Well, maybe just a squeeze, Sweetheart.” 

She smiled, and he clasped her hand for a brief moment.  Filled with a sudden surge of confidence, he shouted over the motor,

“See you on the ground!”  With that, he was gone, headed down toward a clearing in the Vietnam jungle below. 

Shaking her head, Agent Goldstein tipped herself out of the plane.

The two of them tore down through the sub-zero atmosphere as the air became denser and more humid, until it was time to pull their cords, Joey first and then Goldstein.

When they reached the ground, Joey gathered his chute and ran over to his trainer.

“Good Golly, Miss Molly.  That was a rush. ” He let out a howl, making Goldstein laugh.

“See, not so bad, eh? “

Joey laughed, “Not so bad.  Trudy, I couldn’t have done it without you.  Thanks for pushing me out of that plane.” 

“Hey!  I didn’t…” she started to argue, but she saw the twinkle in his eye and she had to smile.

Doing her best to remain professional, despite how adorable she found him, Agent Gertrude Goldstein, rerouted the conversation.

“Ok, Agent Estrada, enough celebration.  Let’s get to the location.”

----

“No, no, no, I can’t do it,” Gertrude whispered with dread, tears springing from her eyes.  She looked up at her husband Joe, who, despite the stern look he was giving her, grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. 

In that moment, something clicked.  She leaned forward, tilted herself up to the bed and dropped right into position.

            “Oh.”  Her whining halted.

            “Oh!” she exclaimed.  “This is not that bad!”

            She wiggled around a little to get into a comfortable position, before declaring,

“Yeah.  I like this.  This is good.  Why didn’t you tell me it was gonna be like this?”

            Joe and I exchanged looks, and Ellie and her mother laughed. Even Gertrude had to smile.

            “Have you always been this much of a baby?” I said, giving her a wink.

            Gertrude looked at Joe, and they crinkled their eyes, sharing something secret. 

            “Not always, “ she said.