Welcome to The Morning After, where I share with you what I’ve seen over the past week either in film or television. On the film side, if I have written a full length review already, I will post a link to that review. Otherwise, I’ll give a brief snippet of my thoughts on the film with a full review to follow at some point later. For television shows, seasons and what not, I’ll post individual comments here about each of them as I see fit.

So, here is what I watched this past week:

Lincoln

If there’s a director who can make history palatable to the masses, it’s Steven Spielberg. He has a keen understanding of how to turn the simple act of back-and-forth negotiations for a constitutional amendment seem like exciting action set pieces. As much as I enjoy his more frolicking fare, seeing Spielberg in action on a film like Lincoln is far more interesting.

Abraham Lincoln, 16th president of the United States, is often discussed as one of the key figures in American politics. Although there are many essays written that shine a negative light on the former Commander in Chief, his history is largely viewed rosily, largely thanks to his signature policy achievement, the 13th amendment to the constitution, recognizing all men as equal citizens under the law, regardless of race. Daniel Day-Lewis would seem an odd choice to play the president, given his colorful acting past, but he dons the mantle with assuredness. Even if he doesn’t use the traditional baritone for his portrayal, you feel as if he naturally inhabits Lincoln’s skin. With such an iconic figure, it’s hard to live up to expectations, but he does so.

The rest of the cast is superb, a gallery of great thespians, each given time to shine. The most notable among these are Sally Field who gives charm and warmth to Lincoln’s wife Mary Todd Lincoln mixed with a touch of fragility and Tommy Lee Jones as the passionate radical Republican Thaddeus Stevens. Also worthy of note are David Strathairn as Secretary of State William Seward, Hal Holbrook as conservative Republican patriarch Preston Blair, James Spader as backroom dealer W.N. Bilbo, Lee Pace as firebrand democrat Fernando Wood, and a host of other wonderful performers.

Hitchcock

There are few iconic figures as recognizable and noteworthy as Alfred Hitchcock, the masterful director whose career has long been highlighted by working directors as an influence. His skill at creating tension with his films earned him the nickname The Master of Suspense. So it comes as no surprise that a film about Hitchcock could be made, but not without some difficulty.

Taking a brief glimpse at the master’s life, Hitchcock explores the confrontational relationship with his wife Alma during the filming of his most successful film ever: Psycho. Unable to show scenes from the film, and frequently recreating key moments or alluding to them, director Sacha Gervasi makes due with what he has and has some success at it. Unfortunately, he also employs plenty of gimmicks, including a rather embarrassing post-credit scene, as well as a frustrating bookend of narration akin to his storied television series introductions, the opening salvo being more interesting than the final.

Helen Mirren is radiant as Alma and elevates the film with her mere presence. Scarlett Johansson, Toni Collette and Michael Stuhlbarg are also ably supportive. Yet, it’s James D’Arcy as uncomfortable Anthony Perkins that steals the show in his few brief appearances, not Anthony Hopkins as the titular character himself. Hopkins as Hitchcock is reminiscent of Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s rendition of Truman Capote in that similarly-titled film. Hoffman was ill fitting the role, never giving the audience a true portrait of the real man behind his makeup. Toby Jones would do a much better job the next year, but I don’t foresee the same situation following this film. Hopkins does his best impersonation of Hitchcock, but his best isn’t good enough. Sometimes Hitch felt a bit stiff and detached in his many introductions for Alfred Hitchcock Presents, but there was something almost friendly and inviting about his presence. Hopkins infrequently conveys that same type of familiarity.

This Is 40

Judd Apatow’s style of filmmaking has spawned so many imitators and even his own work has never lived up to the mystique that surrounds him. This Is 40 exemplifies Apatow’s sense of entitlement and self-appreciation. The story revolves around a married couple, both turning 40, and how their lives have begun to unravel as their frustration bubbles over.

You couldn’t have a better pair of leads than Leslie Mann and Paul Rudd. Rudd is his ever-charming self, successfully blending self-aware buffoonery with warm realism. Mann is nearly his equal, conveying vulnerability and frustration with ease, but occasionally going overboard with her self-righteous indignation at times. Apatow’s nack of creating wildly excessive characters is almost akin to what Wes Anderson had done for years prior. Only with Anderson, his characters are quirky with purpose; whereas Apatow’s are purposefully gimmicky. These aren’t characters drawn from real life, they mock them. Apatow seems intent on finding the realistic absurdism of his subjects while Anderson prefers fantastical absurdism. While both directors have a tendency to come off a bit cocky at times, Anderson is the better showman.

While it’s no surprise that John Lithgow nails his brief appearance in the film, it’s more surprising that Megan Fox delivers a better performance than either Albert Brooks or Melissa McCarthy. While her character comes off as a bit of a selfish airhead, Fox gives it a light enough touch of sensitivity that it works quite well. That’s not to say that Brooks and McCarthy are bad, they aren’t, but their characters are so thinly drawn that you could open up any book of stereotypes and pull them directly from it. And while this two-hour film is tedious at times and filled with a lot of self-serving dialogue, Rudd and Mann ultimately bring the audience full circle and we cannot help but love them, even if we don’t truly love their characters.