12 Years A Slave

Last year, Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained was both controversial and praised for its unflinching depiction of slavery. I loved the film myself, but clearly, it was exaggerated and historically haphazard. For all its violence, it still had familiar genre tropes more palatable to the audience than the realities of slavery in America, as well as the security blanket of violent Hollywood retribution so they could leave the theater happy. But the fact that it was lauded for that is telling about how movies have depicted slavery. There have been portrayals cruel enough to get the point across, but never one that really shows the true extent of its brutality.

12 Years A Slave stands out as much for doing just that as it does on its own merits (which are many). It adheres to no comfortable archetypes, and slavery is the focus instead of a backdrop to another story. Overreaching elements like the politics of the day or historical events like Underground Railroad and the lead-up to the Civil War aren’t even mentioned. This is an intimate and very personal account of slavery, and more poignant for that.

Adapting the memoirs of Solomon Northup, a free black and educated musician from New York who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in 1841, was a great choice for several reasons. Obviously, there’s the authenticity of a true story. Also, the kidnapping of Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor) not only shows a side of the slave trade many might not know about, but also casts him as an outsider to whom the world of slavery is introduced as bluntly as to the viewer (not that the story of someone born into it would have necessarily been any less affecting). Most of all, it’s not a full biography of the man, but a collection of episodes from his time in bondage, episodes the movie depicts without diluting a bit.

Some are graphic and visceral. Some are obscured or implied to happen off-camera. Director Steve McQueen, an acclaimed artist as well as a filmmaker, constructs scenes with the eye of the former role. Every shot, color, sound, and actor's face are equal and essential parts of rich cinematic canvases, perfectly in unison to elicit the most feeling. If they were positive feelings, you could say it’s beautiful (and some of the lush, colorful naturalistic cinematography is beautiful, in contrast to the gloomy desaturation so common in “realistic” pictures). But instead, it makes every trauma as painful as possible. Whether you actually see it or not, it’s hard to watch.

Other times, it doesn’t even need to show the characters’ torment to get the point across. McQueen the filmmaker creates a suffocating atmosphere where Ejiofor and his fellow captives could be beaten or killed for making one mistake, saying one wrong word, or even just giving the wrong look. Just the idea it might happen creates a tension as frightening as an intense horror movie, only without the release of a scare now and then.

There are simply evil white men in the picture, no doubt. Quite memorable is Michael Fassbender as Northup’s second master, a psychopath who takes pleasure in whippings and lustfully rapes his slave girl (Lupita Nyong'o, fantastic and heartbreaking). Same goes for Sarah Paulson as his wife, who spitefully doles out punishment to Nyong'o at every turn. But arguably more effective than their simple sadism are scenes where horrible, shocking images—naked slaves being inspected and sold like meat, or beaten like unruly animals by traders or plantation overseers—are accepted by whites as business as usual. More effective because it shows just how entrenched this evil was.

Even one of the two decent white men in the picture, a Baptist minister (Benedict Cumberbatch) who first buys Northup, is still a part of it. Though he’s more humane and even helps Northup escape certain death, it’s clear he sees his captive as lesser, like prized livestock instead of a human being. The other, a Canadian builder (Brad Pitt), offers the moral argument against slavery, and comes off less like the abolitionist perspective of the day (though—SPOILER!—his words are apparently pretty accurate) than today’s (seemingly very obvious) view on bondage. His words are met with derision by Fassbender, mirroring how astoundingly insane the arguments for enslaving humans the slave owner's words represent sound today.

Ejiofor is an absolute godsend in the picture. He makes the audience feel every trial Northup goes through, both his physical debasement and the emotional pain of losing all hope of freedom or seeing his family again. But the fact that he manages to maintain some self-worth and humanity, let alone dignity, through such loss is almost like a miracle. It’s more than just a great performance; it makes not just Northup’s story seem more incredible, but also the fact that American heroes like Frederick Douglass or Harriet Tubman emerged from such an institution.

This work is one of supreme humanity. Mind you, much of it is the worst of humanity, and necessarily cruel and unflinching in its depiction. But that makes the positives even more powerful. This is a film for the ages, both a gripping and real piece of history, and as a portrait of how powerful and resilient the human spirit can be.