# 103. John Adams (2008)

by Adam Ferenz

There have been many biographical films about US Presidents. There have been several-including more than a few-good ones, made for television. The Adams Chronicles, about the family of John and Quincy Adams, is among the great classic miniseries of the 1970s. Franklin and Eleanor and Franklin and Eleanor: The White House Years, about Franklin D. Roosevelt, are both quite good, as well, along with Truman, which is notable for its fine turn by Gary Sinise as the titular chief executive. Yet all of these pale in comparison to this HBO production, based on David McCullough’s biography of the 2^nd president of the United States. Surveying John Adam’s life from the time of the Boston Massacre in 1770 to his death in 1826, this sweeping series is not without its flaws, but it is always engrossing and treats its audience with a modicum of intellectual respect that is uncommon to such programs.

The series occasionally struggles to keep the finer details right, but manages to convey the emotional truth of each episode of history that it covers, and none more so than a discussion between Adams and Thomas Jefferson, in Paris, after the Revolution, in which the divisions in their social and political thinking are clearly rendered, sewing the seeds for their eventual split. Moments like these are what make the series most worth seeing, aside from the fine performances of the cast. Special notice must be given to Sarah Polley, who as Adams daughter, Abigail-known as Nabby, but named after her mother-turns in a performance both fierce and tender, as she faces the premature end of her life in the closing act of the serial. The acting from Giamatti as John and Laura Linney as his wife, Abigail, is revelatory.

Before that, however, we watch as Adams goes from lawyer, acting as defense counsel for the accused in the “Boston Massacre”-which resulted in a positive outcome for his clients-through to his time as a member of the Continental Congress, a leader in drafting the Declaration of Independence, his time as a roving ambassador in Europe, and his many ups and downs as a president. Finally, we see him, in his last years, as a man beginning to make peace with the actions of his life, to come to some understanding, that he will not always be able to control what others say or think of him, and that he bears responsibility in why that is. Famously, he and Jefferson reconcile, dying on the same day, hours apart, each believing the other was to live another day.

The series is presented in remarkable, almost too remarkable, fashion, by Tom Hooper, who uses a variety of lenses and angles-he is fond of the Dutch angle-and of having his camera act as though it were cast on the water, bouncing along to the action unfolding before it. At times, this can become distracting, but often, it serves to somehow enhance the action, as it seems to mimic the inner lives of the characters. The series won many awards, including a record number of Emmys, thirteen, which remains unmatched by any program.

Yet, for all the praise the series deserves, it gets a lot wrong, historically. Among glaring inconsistencies are showing the Boston Massacre Trial as a single event, rather than a series of hearings, showing Adams present at Concord and Lexington, Adams traveling with one son on a single voyage to Europe, calling the Constitutional Convention as such before it took place, when it was referred to by that title only after occurred. Other mistakes have Adams casting the deciding vote to ratify the Jay Treaty, and Benjamin Rush-who died in 1813-encouraging John to reconcile with Jefferson in 1818, when the real correspondence began in 1812, six years before Abigail’s death, which is shown to be the impetus for the correspondence.

Yet, for all these flaws, and they are many, even this historian sits back as a film viewer and appreciates the audacity, scope and emotional truths found in this work. It does not work as history, though it gets many things right-Zjelko Ivanek’s “Skiff made of paper” speech from the second episode, where his character of John Dickinson pleads with his fellow congressmen not to ratify the Declaration of Independence, is a thrilling example of what the series gets right-and as such, is worth seeing. But keep in mind that this is not like watching Peter Watkins 1964 BBC production, “Culloden” which is painstakingly accurate, nor is it a mess of myth like that found in Braveheart. It is something closer to Hollywood classics, and understood as such, is perfectly fine for what it is. And this reviewer, with these caveats, recommends one sees this, and then read the real history behind the story presented in this otherwise wonderful series.

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