John Adams
was one of the unlikeliest founding fathers, more swept up in the events of the
American Revolution than out in front of them. Because of that, he's been an
ideal subject for two ground-level studies of how America came to be: David
McCullough's epic biography John Adams, and HBO's seven-part, nearly nine-hour adaptation
of same. As portrayed by Paul Giamatti on HBO, Adams is a preening neurotic,
worried about how his peers perceive him. And yet he's hardly unsympathetic. If
anything, Adams' foibles help humanize the radical changes of the late 18th
century.
John
Adams begins with
Adams' defense of the British soldiers involved in the "Boston Massacre" and
ends with his death on July 4th, 1826—fifty years after the
adoption of the Declaration Of Independence. Screenwriter Kirk Ellis rolls
through history in episodic fashion, emphasizing the personality clashes behind
such landmark events as the first presidential election and The Alien &
Sedition Acts. Meanwhile, director Tom Hooper loads up on askew camera angles,
and frequently follows his actors at close range, mapping the spaces where
Adams argued for an ordered liberty over "barbarism." John Adams makes the American experiment look
fragile and tentative, in the hands of a small group of men who couldn't agree
on whether to replicate the culture and government of England or to start over
with a clean slate.
The
miniseries also feels a little shapeless at times, and could probably have been
streamlined without losing its message. But like the best TV, it's compulsively
watchable, and in spending over an hour in each key era of Adams' adult life,
Hooper encourages viewers to note the changing fashions, the appalling dental
hygiene, and the subtlety of the performances by Giamatti and Laura Linney (who
plays Adams' wife Abigail). John Adams begins with the eerie, apocalyptic sight of men in
wigs marching down muddy streets behind "Join Or Die" banners, and it ends in
rooms that look warm and domestic and distinctly American. It travels far over
the course of five decades, and yet what's most striking about John Adams is that so much about it—like
so much about the nation's history—feels unresolved.
Key
features: A lengthy
documentary about McCullough's life and career, and a behind-the-scenes
featurette that delves into the details of costuming, performance, and digital
effects that are so skillfully integrated into the final piece.