There's a moment in the brutal film "12 Years a Slave" that I can't get out of my head. After defending himself against the harassment of a jealous overseer (played by Paul Dano), an enslaved Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor) has retaliated but ultimately fails and is soon left hanging from a tree branch as the overseer and two companions pull the rope taught. Though Northrup is quick to receive a reprieve from his almost certain death when the overseer is reprimanded for the attempted hanging, Northrup is left to dangle mercilessly from the tree for what feels like an eternity. Director Steve McQueen cuts between close-up shots of his feet, caked in mud and positioned in ballet-like points in an attempt to relieve the pressure, and wide shots of him hanging while slaves carry on about their business behind him. The adult slaves tend to their chores; the young ones play in a field. None concern themselves with the activity in the foreground of the shot. If they had, they'd be hanging, too.
This moment took my breath away. It was so simply executed and so undeniably profound, and the message it communicated was so resonant, painful and direct. I wanted to pause the film and reflect, even though the frame remains on screen for an uncomfortably long amount of time already. But "12 Years a Slave" is as relentless as the life of its main character, a real-life free black man from New York who is tricked into captivity and then sold into slavery in the antebellum South and separated from his family for over a decade.
We want so badly as film-goers to use words like "great" and "enjoyable" interchangeably, but movies like "12 Years a Slave" remind us of the simple folly in that endeavor. Some films, as the learned know, exist to confront us, to make us squirm. And yet while there is almost nothing "enjoyable" about "12 Years a Slave," its "greatness" is present frequently and in many forms.
At the time of its publication in 1855, Solomon Northrup's slave narrative "Twelve Years a Slave" was overshadowed by Harriet Beecher Stowe's fictional narrative, "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Northrup was born free in New York, where he lived with his wife and two children. While his family is away on a trip, Northrup is approached by two circus promoters who offer him a well-paying job to showcase his formidable violin playing skills in a travelling circus. Northrup accepts, figuring the short-term job will give him something to do and bring in some income while his family is away.
When the men arrive in Washington D.C., Northrup is drugged and shackled in a slave pen, then quickly sold into slavery. He quickly learns that his attempts to reason with the men buying and selling slaves will potentially bring more harm upon him than good, and soon decides to withhold the information that he is a free man who is educated and can read. His carpentry skills afford Northrup a lifestyle that is at times a step above that of more unskilled slaves, but he endures unspeakable cruelties nonetheless, cruelties that run the gamut from his own hanging (as already mentioned) to his being forced to whip one of his fellow slaves himself. It is not until Northrup's path crosses with that of an abolitionist from Canada (played in a brief but impactful performance by Brad Pitt) that the wheels are finally put into motion to free him and return him to his family.
Many films have successfully documented aspects of the horrors of American slavery during the 19th Century, but I suspect that "12 Years a Slave" will now be considered the gold standard. Like Steven Spielberg's "Amistad," this film conveys the awful conditions in which the slaves must live, and the brutality with which they are treated. And it not only matches but surpasses the level of violence and hatred illustrated in movies as wide ranging as the miniseries "Roots" to "Django Unchained."
But perhaps what makes "12 Years a Slave" so painful and potent is its overall lack of forced sentimentality. This is what was, period. McQueen tries to downplay the typical film making tricks. Hans Zimmer's score threatens to interfere in spots but is checked in others. Overly flashy camera work from cinematographer Sean Bobbitt is dismissed in favor of emphasizing very simple and shockingly effective frame compositions, such as the previously mentioned hanging scene. McQueen's visuals linger on the screen, often at the expense of the film's momentum (a slight but relevant quibble I had with the film) and always at the expense of the audience's ability to find any level of comfort while viewing. To say I squirmed in my seat is an understatement.
As a director, McQueen continues to hone his craft here, and though I don't know his work well yet, it's clear that one noticeable element - however trivial it might seem - is that he frequently relies on the nude human form as an integral part of his art. And as he did with his last film, "Shame," he uses nudity explicitly and without any hint of erotic charge. It is clear that he requires his actors to lay themselves bare in every sense of the word, and that he'll ask audiences to receive it, however discomforting.
It's also clear that McQueen understands violence and does not want to see it sentimentalized or downplayed. Yet for as painful as the scenes of violence against the slaves were - and they were really, really bad - I might not have been more affected than in a simple moment where Ejiofor is left to stare directly into the camera, McQueen holding the frame for much longer than the audience can tolerate. Because Ejiofor is so brilliantly understated in his sure-to-be-Oscar-nominated performance, the moment screams at the audience through its deafening silence. "How could you let this happen? To me? To us?" It is pure cinematic conviction. And "12 Years a Slave" elevates itself within its genre by generating its power more from its quiet moments than from its violent ones.
Perhaps the most shocking surprise of "12 Years a Slave" is the diversity of its cast, as McQueen pulls together a group more diverse than any director short of Woody Allen can assemble and, like Allen, draws out spectacular performances from them all without a moment untrue to the film's tone and intention. Of course I was aware of the presence of Michael Fassbender, who starred in "Shame," and is fast becoming the director's muse. Fassbender plays Northrup's second slave owner, and his presence is haunting. But equally effective is Benedict Cumberbatch, always in his element in period work, as the first slave owner. Both are excellent and well-cast.
What I didn't expect, though, was the stellar work in smaller roles by a surprising array of diverse performers. Oscar nominees Brad Pitt, Paul Giamatti and Quvenzhane Wallis leave lasting impressions, as does Sarah Paulson as Fassbender's chilly wife. And yes, that's "Saturday Night Live" star Taran Killam, of all people, in a small and serious role as one of the men who delivers Northrup into slavery. Somehow, McQueen is able to include moments for both legendary dramatic film actress Alfre Woodard and nutball television star Garret Dillahunt (of "Raising Hope").
"12 Years a Slave" is sometimes stiff in its historical presentation, and frequently paced very slowly. In a few moments, its tone goes a little wacky, such as in the kidnapping scene, which feels a little light.
But its acting performances help to elevate the film to greatness. The film has two truly unbelievable performances in the work of Nigerian-born Chiwetel Ejiofor and Lupita Nyong'o as a slave named Patsey who will be forced into service as her white owner's mistress and endure the most savage whipping I have ever witnessed on a movie screen short of the one in "The Last Temptation of Christ." Though both actors have names that are difficult to pronounce, entertainment journalists had better start practicing their names, because both will be everywhere in the coming weeks, I suspect.
As I reflect on the experience of watching "12 Years a Slave," I find myself comparing it to "Gravity," the last film I saw in a theatre and one that I went wild for. I suspect that these two films are the front-runners for this year's Best Picture Oscar, and in most ways, they could not be more different. One friend of mine even commented that the very attempt to draw comparisons between the two is essentially ludicrous. And yet that's what award voters are forced to do, year in and year out.
For me, "Gravity" gets the edge because of its groundbreaking technical work and potent spirituality. Both films physically affected me like few movies I can remember. In both cases, my body was exhausted and tense from the experience of having been a spectator. But I could see myself watching "Gravity" again. I'm not sure how many times I'd want to see "12 Years a Slave." Like Spielberg's "Schindler's List," this is a film that belongs on a shelf as one of the most powerfully rendered cinematic documents of our collective history as a people. It's the kind of movie that belongs in educational curriculums and should be viewed by all.
But "12 Years a Slave" is not an enjoyable movie to watch. Of course, it has no right in the world to be an enjoyable view. Its brilliance is that it justifiably scars the audience, helping us to see just why this whole slavery thing just doesn't go away, even after all of these years since it was abolished. You watch "12 Years a Slave," and you get it, no matter whether or not you got it before. No matter what color you are. And for that alone, you know you've witnessed a blustering and blunt masterpiece of a movie.
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