John Adams: Founding (and Faltering) Father

One of the overemphasized and yet somehow still underappreciated aspects of being a student in the Boston area is the fact that the neighborhoods and streets of this city are packed with history. Case in point, from my apartment in Cambridge I can easily walk to the home of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the fabled ground of Harvard Yard, or stride the thinning grass of Cambridge Common and stand beneath the very tree under which George Washington first took command of the rag-tag rebels and mutinous minutemen that would go on to defeat the greatest empire of the period. And yet somehow, though I regularly sample from New England’s cultural treasures, no single site, artifact or fading placard has ever inspired in me a sense of historical wonder as much as the recent HBO miniseries adaptation of David McCullough’s John Adams.

Now for a few disclaimers: yes I realize how superfluous this review of another Emmy wunderkind seems, but like Bingo before me I must profess adoration of this series prior to the Emmy nominations (though I anticipate this series sweeping all miniseries categories).

Beyond this, I must confess that I eagerly anticipated this series’ premiere and subsequent DVD release (who can afford HBO on a stipend?) having voraciously consumed the book during my freshman year of college (I was the kid who finished the book the first week of the month long study of the text much to the adoration of the instructor and the loathing of my classmates). This series draws masterfully from the John Adams text and also liberally from the companion piece 1776.

While the praises of this series have already been sung by more accredited personages, I’ll gloss over a few of the reasons I enjoyed the series and hopefully demonstrate that members of my generation do have a sense of civic pride and a nuanced appreciation of the American experiment in democracy (doesn’t it always seem to oscillate wildly between complete skepticism and blind patriotism?).

I credit the director of this series with his unwavering commitment to show the founding fathers as the heroes, and perhaps for the first time, the humans that they were. Through the use of long steady-cam shots and slanted “man on the street” angles, I felt completely transported off my couch and onto the dark streets of Boston, the hallowed halls of Philadelphia and the dismal swamp that will become Washington D.C. The historical figures appear most frequently in the colonial garb we survivors of eighth grade history expect, but most inspiringly, they step out of their roles in private settings and demonstrate their emotions through angrily shoveling manure or exhaustively removing their wig and wiping the sweat from their brows. These figures have awful teeth, cantankerous dispositions and vulnerabilities that alternatively endear and alienate the audience (Anyone ever seen a founding father vomit elsewhere?). Had the meetings of the Continental Congress been presented with such life, strife, conflict and danger in textbooks, they would do much more than break the backs of middle schoolers.

Beyond the fantastic direction and production design (and make-up and music, and sound), the acting of this series is unbelievable. Paul Giamatti, having shaken away all vestiges of his Sideways humor, enlivens the role of Adams through his subtle love of his wife and his fiery conflicts with his sons and political rivals. Giamatti isn’t afraid to make Adams unlikeable and by willingly embracing the darker parts of the character, makes the historical figure all the more inspiring. Yet, Laura Linney’s turn as Abigail Adams is the performance that will linger in the minds of all viewers. By turns plotting political partner, proto-feminist and saddened neglected wife, Linney lights up every scene and buoys Giamatti up to a higher plane when they share scenes. The highlights being Abigail’s daring decision to vaccinate the children from smallpox (Thank God for modern medicine!) in which she shows her passion and courage, and the multiple quiet walks she and John take about the farm, in which Abigail’s vulnerability and adoration shine clearly through. As this is running long, I won’t cover the many fine supporting roles, but certainly the work of Tom Wilkinson as Benjamin Franklin, David Morse as George Washington and Sarah Polley (of Avonlea!) as the Adams’ daughter are all inspired.

This series is not without faults, as many episodes drag on a bit too long for my preference, but the first two and the seventh (final) episode don’t suffer at all from this problem as they kept me wishing for more (No please, the revolution can’t be over yet, I want more!). Additionally, the need to revise the well-known period art to include the actors instead of the actual figures seems a bit silly and unnecessary.

Patriotism has always been something that I’ve greeted with skepticism and fear. My recent disapproval of America’s course has tainted me and made me question it all. Yet, I have to say that the closing moments in which the series turns what cynics would call a bit preachy, deeply touched me and reminded me, and hopefully others of just what a responsibility we have to the men who built this country. Thus I will close with Adams’s own words on this great democratic experiment:

“Oh Posterity, you will never know how much it cost us to preserve your freedom. I hope that you will make a good use of it. If you do not, I shall repent in heaven that I ever took half the pains to preserve it.”

Your servant, Bongo

P.S. - Like Mad Men, John Adams benefits from an excellent score that helps draw you into the period as the credits roll and the classic “Don’t Tread on Me!” flag billows in a tempestuous breeze.