Admit it. You always wanted to know all the gory details about how John Wilkes Booth got into the Presidential box at Ford’s Theater, how he got away, got captured and got killed. Who hasn’t?
Killing Lincoln dramatizes that and more, providing an unflinching view of history that’s a valuable companion piece to Spielberg’s more cinematic Lincoln. Killing Lincoln serves up a passel of details – some quotidian, many fascinating – that reveal the remarkable intimacy of Lincoln’s America, notwithstanding the country’s wartime footing, especially in a capital that was literally on the border of Union and rebellion. They also further illuminate the Great Emancipator’s innate goodness and political genius, not to mention the demented criminality of John Wilkes Booth.
A mix of dramatic recreations intercut with Tom Hanks’ trenchant narration, Killing Lincoln’s strengths far outweigh its weaknesses. The end is obviously known. Plus it starts somewhat slow, a characteristic shared with Spielberg’s Lincoln. Further, the acting in the dramatizations is decidedly pedestrian, notwithstanding Hanks’ superlative delivery of author Bill O’Reilly’s pungent reportage. But, the epochal history makes getting the story out more important than the acting.
The story – replete with so many interesting details – is shockingly powerful. The second hour in particular is riveting. How could it not be? It covers the assassination itself, the ensuing chaos and then the hunt for the assassin and his conspirators.
Killing Lincoln won’t get a Best Picture nod like that other Lincoln movie, but it stands on its own impeccably reported feet as vivid historical artifact. Everyone who sees it will benefit, Americans most of all.
Tom Hanks channels Bill O’Reilly with impeccable gravitas, delivering fact after fact, many surprising, several insightful. Hanks’ All American decency and self-possessed screen presence is ideal to hold the movie together, especially given that he’s on screen more than the actors themselves.
Those actors are rather wooden, perhaps done in by the period dress and ridiculous facial hair, not to mention the inevitable comparisons to the big stars playing the same parts in Spielberg’s Lincoln.
The combo of direct-to-the-camera narration and dramatic recreations works well, as does the book’s signature declarations about how many days Lincoln has to live.
However, the “Abraham Lincoln had three days to live” declarations are narrative. Most of the dramatic declarations end without concluding, instead simply trailing off. This must be to convey the gravitas of the situations, but it makes the film less approachable.
One of the film’s most impressive devices comes at the end, when it intercuts dramatic recreations of the conspirators being photographed with the actual photos from those sessions. This is a presentation of American history of the first order. Bravo!
Killing Lincoln is chock full of fascinating details, from the reference to “monitors” as a class of warship rather than the famous individual USS Monitor, to the double-amputee who was pressed into service as the witnesses’ stenographer following the assassination.
More notably, Killing Lincoln’s reporting directly contravenes Robert Redford’s The Conspirator in how it paints the seditious role of Mary Surratt and those who frequented her boardinghouse. Redford must be steamed at fellow Hollywood Lefty Tom Hanks for channeling Bill O’Reilly’s reporting on this matter.
Finally, the film’s dramatization of Lewis Powell’s savage stabbing of Secretary of State William Seward shows how personal, comprehensive and vile the overall conspiracy was.