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Director- Steven Spielberg
Writer -
David Franzoni
Director of photography
- Janusz Kaminski
Editor - Michael Kahn
Music by John Williams
Production designer, Rick Carter
Producers -
Steven Spielberg, Debbie Allen and Colin Wilson
Dreamworks SKG. 150 minutes. Rated
R.
STARRING: Morgan Freeman (Joadson), Nigel
Hawthorne (President Martin Van Buren), Anthony Hopkins (John Quincy
Adams), Djimon Hounsou (Cinque), Matthew McConaughey (Baldwin), David
Paymer (Secretary of State John Forsyth), Pete Postlethwaite (Holabird),
Stellan Skarsgard (Tappan), Razaaq Adoti (Yamba), Abu Bakaar Fofanah (Fala)
and Anna Paquin (Queen Isabella).
It's probably
politically incorrect for
me to do anything but praise this movie. After all, it is one of the boldest cinematic
portrayals of the plight of American slaves ever filmed. And it was directed by Steven
Spielberg, who brought such a powerful testament of the nightmares of the holocaust to the
screen in Schindler's List. It stars a panoply of fine, distinguished actors.
The stage is set for an American classic.
Unfortunately, I can't give Amistad a glowing review.
Many of the things that made Schindler's deserving of all its accolades are
missing from this incomplete movie.
The film's strengths are many. Djimon Hounsou, a
promising actor in an important debut, gives a strong breakthrough performance as Cinque,
the African who rises to represent his fellow captives. The attention to historical detail
is impressive. Courtroom scenes avoid Hollywood legal arena clichés.
And above all,
there's Anthony Hopkins. In his performance as former President John Quincy Adams, Hopkins
proves why he is one of the greatest screen actors working today. Most audiences would flinch at
the idea of a movie's finale consisting of one long philosophy-heavy speech, but Hopkins,
as the unsteady, deep-thinking, quirky master orator, brings the viewer to the edge of his
seat, makes us hang on his every word. He's brilliant. But neither character carries the
film the way Liam Neeson's troubled German carried Schindler's List.
The rest of the cast are less than brilliant, and some
are miscast entirely.
Matthew McConaughey is forgettable as the lawyer who seeks to help the slaves against all odds. He
doesn't embarrass himself, but he's only required to look determined and throw a couple of
temper tantrums.
Morgan Freeman looks like he was handed his lines, coached through his
scenes ("Look solemn and stand in the back of the room, Morgan. Okay, now look deeply
moved by what you're watching. Now, smile."), and then went home.
Others -- Nigel
Hawthorne, Pete Postlethwaite, Anna Paquin, Stellan Skarsgard -- are equally distinguished
and equally underused. Why cast such important actors in such brief, bland parts?
Even Hounsou is the victim of bad scripting. In the first half, we see him get angry, yell a
lot, and make his eyes very very big like an African Mel Gibson; then in the second act he
reveals his story, his terrifying memories, and we learn about what he left behind and why
the others respect him.
The slaves remain an anonymous bunch from beginning
to end, unlike the living personalities of the Jews in Schindler's List. We're
expected to feel for them. Look at the atrocities they endured! Look at what a strange and
disorienting world they find themselves trapped in! And indeed, their sufferings are
great. But the same lessons could have been taught by a PBS documentary.
One character informs the attorney that the winner in court will be
the one who tells "the best story". Spielberg should have taken that advice.
The
screenplay gives so much attention to the legal complications of freeing the
slaves that we don't have time to develop more than mere sympathy for them.
Hollywood's master storyteller seemed confused about which story he was
telling. He moves so fast and so frequently between different contexts that
we never find our balance. More character development, please, Mr.
Spielberg... even if it means a longer movie!
Cinematographer Janusz Kaminski brings alive scenes
of the slaves' escape from their chains on the nightmarish sea journey.
In the opening minute
of the film, sweat on a slave's
forehead glistens like stars in
a night sky. But the courtroom scenes are filmed through a murky lens, so the Supreme
Court members' heads glow with silver halos but the rest of the room is drab and shadowed.
It is an interesting approach, but dulls the drama of these scenes.
Worst of
all is the pompous overbearing nature of John Williams' soundtrack. It's as
if at the beginning of each scene he must announce "This is going to be
rough! Hang on!" or "This is tragic! Get out your hankies!" He's never been
so unnecessarily melodramatic. Some silence would have been nice. Spielberg
restrained him in Schindler's List, and as a result the soundtrack
was powerful, enhancing rather than dominating. But the final minutes of the
film, as Spielberg directs an embarrassingly sentimental farewell to
Williams' euphoric crescendo, are inappropriately reminiscent of E.T.
The Extra-Terrestrial.
In spite of
its flaws, Amistad is an
important movie for two reasons. First, for Anthony Hopkins' climactic speech. It will
ring in the memory long after the movie's particulars are forgotten. And second, for the
gospel. In one profound scene, a slave browses the Bible and, from the pictures, follows
the story of a holy man who suffered much, was executed, returned from the dead, and
showed tormented souls the way to the kingdom of God. The slave finds hope in Jesus
without having heard a single sermon. Through the rest of his personal sufferings, he
notices the cross in things all around him, and it brings him a powerful hope. This is the
most straightforward, understated, and powerful
big-screen representation of the gospel in recent
movie history.
And for
that, Amistad should be
recommended to everyone.
Jeffrey's Grade: B
For an explanation of
these ratings, click
here. |
