"The essence of our revolution will be that Dr. Franklin smote the earth with his electrical rod, and out sprang Washington and Jefferson. That they together conducted all the policy, negotiation, legislation and war." — a very pissy John Adams (Paul Giamatti) in “Part 7: Peacefield”
John Adams DVD Review
By Kay Daly
Remove your rose-colored glasses. The American Revolution was a messy, complicated affair, and its heroes were brilliant but flawed everyday people—not least of all founding father and second U.S. president John Adams.
That’s the main thrust of this sumptuous, sprawling 7-part mini-series produced by HBO. Based on David McCullough’s renowned biography, the series paints a sympathetic but realistic portrait Adams in all his pudgy, crotchety, unpopular glory. Don’t expect hagiography. “Short, cranky, fat John Adams” is what McCullough calls his unlikely hero during one of the DVD features, and that’s a lot of what we get: a cantankerous guy, stubbornly single-minded, easy to take offense, vain to a fault. But we also see a brilliantly smart, passionately committed man who sacrificed personal comfort and family ties to help bring a new nation state into being. The miracle of the series is its ability to hold both these truths in balance—Adams as nation-builder, Adams as self-pitying pain-in-the-ass—while providing a kaleidoscopic overview of the remarkable events of his life.
The series literally opens with a bang, as Adams rushes to the site of the Boston Massacre, famously choosing to serve as defense attorney for the British soldiers involved. It’s a crucial introduction to the character, demonstrating his adherence to the ideal of justice tempered by an appreciation of the long-term implications of his—and his countrymen’s—actions.
From there, we hopscotch forward in time, sampling key eras in Adams long life: his diplomatic missions to France, the Netherlands and England; his tenure as first vice-president; his single-term presidency; his retirement to country life in old age. Adams’ political life is set along side his domestic life, and his professional triumphs and tribulations are always seen in terms of the price his family paid for his participation in the building of a new nation.
But be advised: though billed as a mini-series, John Adams doesn’t offer a smooth, single-arc epic. Instead, each episode is like a snapshot in time, focusing in on a significant period in the life of this great man. The result is a story very much like real life—jerking forward bit by bit, haunted by a sense of the whole, but not ruled by it.
The strongest through-line is the character of Adams himself, played by Paul Giamatti, supported and abetted by his devoted, fiercely intelligent wife and advisor, Abigail, played by Laura Linney. Both bits of casting are a stroke of genius. Giamatti, with his paranoid, glowering eyes, easily conveys why Adams found more enemies than supporters, but he also projects his deep intelligence and thoughtfulness. And only an actress of Linney’s caliber could save Abigail—devoted wife, staunch supporter—from becoming a cardboard angel-in-the-house. In Linney’s portrayal, we see not only her devotion; we see also the great sacrifices, patience and forbearance that devotion required. And we see her making the decision to be that woman.
That carefully shaded, “warts-and-all” view is reflected throughout the series. In tracing this remarkable life, the series’ creators steadfastly reject a romantic view of the era, its events, and its people. Here, the Revolution appears as the result of competing motives, some noble and far-reaching, some self-serving and short-sighted. We see Ben Franklin (a puckish Tom Wilkinson) carousing in France, and Thomas Jefferson (Stephen Dillane) slandering Adams for political gain. We see George Washington (David Morse, a freakish dead-ringer for good ole George) stepping down from the presidency after two terms because he didn’t like being unpopular. And in that pivotal event, the Boston Massacre, we see how the mythmaking of history covered up a considerably more ambiguous interplay of right and wrong.
We also get an unvarnished glimpse into daily life of the 18th century—and a nasty affair it was. From rotting teeth to mud-smeared travelers, inoculations for small pox to a mastectomy sans anesthetic, John Adams portrays life as it was: nasty, brutish and short. We also get scenes of ordinary life. Abigail scrubs her own floors. John lovingly mixes manure for his farm, and re-shingles his own roof.
Scenes like these throw a fresh perspective on the Revolutionary period, and remind us that, though brilliant and industrious, the founding fathers were ordinary, everyday men, who had to put their own lives on hold to forge a new kind of society. In its evocation of this single, remarkable life, John Adams is a resonant and profound reminder of the great sacrifices were made by everyday men who decided that they and their posterity deserved a life of freedom.
The seven parts of John Adams are spread out over three discs. The third disc also contains two featurettes. The discs are housed on a panel fold-out container, with one disc per panel. The container features a collage of still images from the production. There is no episode guide.
