This film by Steve McQueen (
Hunger, Shame) is based on the harrowing real story and book by Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a free Black man from Saratoga, NY, who is kidnapped to be sold to slave owners in the South. It is McQueen's most conventional film to date, and though it is a powerful movie that retains his trademark unflinching look at intense human suffering, this time focused on slavery, there is something stilted about it. All his movies have a paradoxical tension between extreme emotional states and aesthetic distance, which works well with their intimate scope. But this is a big period epic, and you can feel the tension between the need to tell a story in a more conventional manner and McQueen's suggestive style. There is tension, for instance, between the eloquent literary, almost theatrical dialogue, which sounds faithful to Northup's narrative, and
the realistic depiction of brutality.
The most astounding scene in the movie is a wordless tableau that takes place in the middle of the film and that says more about the depravity of American slavery than anything else in the movie, or anywhere, for that matter. Were it shown separately, it would be one of the greatest short films ever made. This is the kind of condensed visual metaphor that makes McQueen an exciting director, but this style is mostly sacrificed for more straightforward storytelling, and by corollary, more commercial possibilities.
The filmmakers want to make the story accessible to the widest possible audience, which is as should be. But this responsibility to garner a wide audience presents an interesting conundrum. I could not help but think of the Holocaust, because the parallels with American slavery are many and obvious, as are the parallels on how genocidal violence is depicted in film.
Slavery is the African-American Holocaust. McQueen makes sure this is branded into our consciousness by showing episode after episode of unspeakable cruelty. Sticking closely to what Solomon Northup witnessed and lived through, the
experience of this film is as close as we're ever going to be to what
it was like to be a slave.
Still, cinematically, the magnitude of slavery as a crime against
humanity is so unfathomable, that
any attempt to dramatize it creates an obvious problem with
authenticity, which is generally true of Holocaust movies as well. How,
for instance, do you use music to punctuate such circumstances? Any
fictional embellishment threatens to banalize the authentic depiction of historical evil. The use of well known actors becomes distracting, even if
all the famous talent in this film (Paul Giamatti, Benedict Cumberbatch,
Michael Fassbender, Brad Pitt, Paul Dano, Alfre Woodard) rises to the
occasion. In
United 93, also a movie about a historical act of human evil, director Paul Greengrass bypassed
this problem by using unknown actors, giving it unquestionable
verisimilitude. It worked, but nobody saw it.
This is the paradox of this film.
Perhaps this is why McQueen chose Ejiofor, a
well-known British actor, but not very known here, and newcomer Lupita
Nyong'o for the main slave roles. They are both very good. Solomon
Northup, urbane, educated, sensitive, and appalled at his fate, learns
to obey and quell his temper and dignity in order to preserve his life.
He cannot fight back, so his journey is the opposite of what we are
used to from cinematic heroes: from being a well rounded, accomplished
human being, he needs to do less and less in order to get out alive. His
heroism relies in surviving and trying to hold on to his last shred of
dignity, even when forced to collude in his own dehumanization. Chiwetel
gives a very empathetic performance, but there is something about a
passive hero that makes it hard to connect for the audience.
Like any other form of institutionalized sadism, slavery is shown to
cast not only a dehumanizing pall on slaveowners and
slaves alike, but it is encased in its own bizarre bubble; an insane
parallel reality. In the dissolute character of slaveowner Epps (Michael
Fassbender), corrupt madness runs like a fever. Epps is an ignorant,
Bible thumping drunk; cruel, childish, arbitrary. Fassbender is very
good at showing his spineless weakness. There is nothing grand about
him. He is at the bottom of the human totem pole, a grotesque character,
a second rate bully, clearly inferior to Northup in every way.
From
the beginning, McQueen establishes that slavery was unregulated
capitalism at its nadir. Although he makes clear that even those who
profited from it were aware of its revolting effects, even judicious
people, such as Thomas Jefferson, engaged in it. It is particularly
chilling to think that Northup's descent into hell, as McQueen shows
with close ups of water churning through the wheels of a river boat, was
only a short journey from New York to Washington D. C.. He went to
dinner one day with whom he thought were potential business partners,
and woke up in a dungeon in chains. There was a legal and economic
system in place that allowed this to happen, and there was nothing he could do about it.
This powerlessness sparks enormous moral outrage. The film's effect is cumulative: it
lashes out at you relentlessly - as life lashed out at Northup - until
its cathartic ending. This is not a wishful tale about righteous white
people with good intentions. It is not fiction. It is a remarkably
evenhanded and perceptive eyewitness account of slavery from a survivor.
The hero is a Black man, and he engineers his own survival. In this sense,
12 Years A Slave is possibly the truest film about the topic ever made.
Yet McQueen's approach, even as he meticulously documents
the most harrowing scenes of cruelty, feels somehow emotionally
detached. The piling up of horrors, if utterly valid and faithful to
Northup's experience, makes you brace against it. Only at the end I felt a cathartic emotional release. Perhaps this is intended to mirror Solomon Northup's own journey: in order to survive, you have to harden your heart. Unlike Steven Spielberg's
Amistad, 12 Years A Slave is unadorned with human pieties. It's an endurance test that shows no mercy towards the audience.
Hopefully,
12 Years A Slave will spark a serious conversation about slavery in this country. For all of our boisterous public debate about race, very little is discussed about slavery (unless, I assume, you are stuck in history class in high school). This is perplexing, to say the least. Considering how important it is a chapter of American history, more needs to be discussed. Because even today there are economic systems in place that are not too distant from slavery: the abuse of undocumented migrant workers, private prisons that profit from the wholesale incarceration of mostly Black and Latino people. The nasty unethical, yet fully legal, exploitation of certain groups continues.
This movie put a thought in my head:
The still benighted South, home of a majority of people who think universal health insurance is communism, and who'd rather die than pay taxes for a more progressive and cohesive society, should be made to pay reparations to the descendants of slaves in America. This is not a new concept, but perhaps
12 Years A Slave will bring the idea back to the table. This movie intends to reopen an old wound. I certainly hope it does.
12 Years A Slave opens October 18.
