By Kim Voynar Voynar@moviecitynews.com

Sundance 2014 Review: The Better Angels

The Better Angels

The Better Angels, produced (and clearly strongly influenced) by Terrence Malick and directed by A.J. Edwards in his feature debut, is a stunningly beautiful, vividly black-and-white cinematic painting about the boyhood of Abraham Lincoln on a farm in the remote Indiana frontier during the years 1817-1819. And for lovers of films that veer into the realm of art, it’s a deeply moving visual treat.

Presumably, these particular years in young Lincoln’s life were chosen as the focus of the film because of their profound influence in shaping the boy who would become our 16th president. In 1816 Lincoln’s father, Thomas, notably lost his sizable holdings of land in Kentucky due to property line disputes, forcing the family to relocate to Indiana to make a fresh start. It was during these years that two pivotal events occurred: Lincoln’s mother, Nancy, died of milk sickness in 1818, and his father remarried in 1819 to Sarah Bush Johnston, with whom the boy bonded. Both women strongly influenced the man Abe Lincoln would become.

Edwards moves us along languidly through this pivotal period in Lincoln’s life: The isolation of a frontier farm boy who loved books and learning, growing up in a time and place where physical labor was more valued than intellect. The death of his beloved mother and arrival of his stepmother, two women who understood intuitively that there was something different and special about the boy, and who profoundly shaped his life. The fabled wrestling match, at which he won the grudging respect of rough-and-tumble peers by showing that he had brawn as well as brains. We also see planted the seed of his opposition to slavery, which would come to be a crucial part of his political career.

There are certainly many ways the story of Lincoln as a boy could have been told, but Edwards, a longtime cameraman in Malick’s circle, chooses here the path akin to what one imagines Malick himself might have taken, had he directed the project himself, as he reportedly planned to early in its development. Told largely through voice over taken directly from an interview with Lincoln’s last surviving cousin, who lived with the future president during this time of his life, The Better Angels (not unlike Malick’s own films) lies far more in the realm of impressionistic imagery and poetry than narrative prose.

This is a film created to be seen on a big screen, where the gorgeous cinematography can fill your soul. Dialog is sparse, used only to augment the narration and visuals, with the result that it feels almost like watching a silent film with narration over it. Or perhaps, to be more accurate, it’s like immersing yourself into a black-and-white landscape of stunning beauty, where there happens to be this story happening around you. I certainly couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. Edwards’ time spent as a cameraman on Malick’s films is evident here in the framing of shots, the extensive use of nature in storytelling, and his willingness to let his tale breathe in quiet spaces.

Lack of dialog doesn’t mean lack of need for solid performances – if anything it requires that much more of an actor to convey actions, emotions, moments of connection with each other, without being able to lean much on words to convey meaning. Fortunately for Edwards, his excellent cast is more than up to that task. Jason Clarke as Tom Lincoln, Brit Marling as Lincoln’s mother, Sarah, and Diane Kruger as his stepmother Nancy, are all spot on, evoking the juxtaposition of weariness and hope that embodied life on the frontier. But it’s young Braydon Denney, who plays Abe Lincoln in the tale, who most stood out for me, perfectly capturing the dreamy intellect that conveys the introspective mind of the boy who would grow to be one of our nation’s greatest leaders.

While the film’s high-art house structure and style might limit the film’s appeal to a mainstream audience, for those who revel the use of poetic imagery to tell a story, The Better Angels is a sumptuous feast of starkly contrasted painterly beauty. It is, quite simply, sublime.

Be Sociable, Share!

Comments are closed.

Quote Unquotesee all »

It shows how out of it I was in trying to be in it, acknowledging that I was out of it to myself, and then thinking, “Okay, how do I stop being out of it? Well, I get some legitimate illogical narrative ideas” — some novel, you know?

So I decided on three writers that I might be able to option their material and get some producer, or myself as producer, and then get some writer to do a screenplay on it, and maybe make a movie.

And so the three projects were “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep,” “Naked Lunch” and a collection of Bukowski. Which, in 1975, forget it — I mean, that was nuts. Hollywood would not touch any of that, but I was looking for something commercial, and I thought that all of these things were coming.

There would be no Blade Runner if there was no Ray Bradbury. I couldn’t find Philip K. Dick. His agent didn’t even know where he was. And so I gave up.

I was walking down the street and I ran into Bradbury — he directed a play that I was going to do as an actor, so we know each other, but he yelled “hi” — and I’d forgot who he was.

So at my girlfriend Barbara Hershey’s urging — I was with her at that moment — she said, “Talk to him! That guy really wants to talk to you,” and I said “No, fuck him,” and keep walking.

But then I did, and then I realized who it was, and I thought, “Wait, he’s in that realm, maybe he knows Philip K. Dick.” I said, “You know a guy named—” “Yeah, sure — you want his phone number?”

My friend paid my rent for a year while I wrote, because it turned out we couldn’t get a writer. My friends kept on me about, well, if you can’t get a writer, then you write.”
~ Hampton Fancher

“That was the most disappointing thing to me in how this thing was played. Is that I’m on the phone with you now, after all that’s been said, and the fundamental distinction between what James is dealing with in these other cases is not actually brought to the fore. The fundamental difference is that James Franco didn’t seek to use his position to have sex with anyone. There’s not a case of that. He wasn’t using his position or status to try to solicit a sexual favor from anyone. If he had — if that were what the accusation involved — the show would not have gone on. We would have folded up shop and we would have not completed the show. Because then it would have been the same as Harvey Weinstein, or Les Moonves, or any of these cases that are fundamental to this new paradigm. Did you not notice that? Why did you not notice that? Is that not something notable to say, journalistically? Because nobody could find the voice to say it. I’m not just being rhetorical. Why is it that you and the other critics, none of you could find the voice to say, “You know, it’s not this, it’s that”? Because — let me go on and speak further to this. If you go back to the L.A. Times piece, that’s what it lacked. That’s what they were not able to deliver. The one example in the five that involved an issue of a sexual act was between James and a woman he was dating, who he was not working with. There was no professional dynamic in any capacity.

~ David Simon