Film Review: History with lightning

12 Years a Slave confronts US slavery like no other film has done, writes Tymon Smith

12 Years a Slave

Director:Steve McQueen

Cast: Chiwetel Ejiofor, Michael Fassbender, Lupita Nyong'o, Benedict Cumberbatch, Paul Dano, Paul Giamatti, Brad Pitt

For A country that likes to shout about free speech, equal rights and opportunity, there are several gaping holes in the US scoresheet when it comes to what aspects of its history it is willing to confront. The most obvious is in depictions of one of its darkest, most far- reaching and divisive chapters - the 250-year history of slavery.

On this subject Hollywood's cinematic record is unforgivably weak. It throws up either melodramatic love stories set against the backdrop of cotton fields (Gone with the Wind), or pulled-punch tales told from the perspective of well-meaning white liberal abolitionists (Amistad).

Even Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained is less about the actual conditions of slavery than a reimagining of history through the eyes of a film geek. It is a blaxploitation film about exploitation filled with cartoon violence and brilliant monologues rather than historical realities.

The closest thing resembling an acceptable portrait of slavery from the perspective of its victims is still Roots, the 1970s TV adaptation of the book by Alex Haley.

With 12 Years a Slave, Hollywood's record is devastatingly redressed, even though the director is British. Renowned for his work as a visual artist and applauded by critics for his two previous feature films, Hunger and Shame, this is Steve McQueen's most accessible film. It is also a difficult film to watch.

Adapted from a 19th-century account of the ordeals of Solomon Northup, a freeborn man living in New York who was abducted and sold into slavery in the antebellum South, the film pulls no punches in its depictions of the horrors of slavery and its inequities.

It also benefits from its director's background in the visual arts, often relying on the ability of images to speak without explanation or moralising.

The central performance by Chiwetel Ejiofor puts him firmly in the spotlight as one of his generation's most accomplished and versatile performers.

Ejiofor masterfully conveys Northup's horrifying transformation from a man living a restricted but functional life as a businessman with a family to a battered shell and barely human chattel in the eyes of vicious plantation owner Michael Epps.

Played with chilly psychopathic conviction by longtime McQueen collaborator Michael Fassbender, Epps is made even more dangerous by his desire for slave woman Patsey (an excellent performance by newcomer Lupita Nyong'o), which spurs him to ever greater acts of depravation.

In the cotton fields of the South, Northup's survival depends on his ability to hide his past and feign ignorance and illiteracy for fear of the punishments that will be meted out should he be discovered.

His first master, Ford, (Benedict Cumberbatch) is a benevolent man (for a slave owner) who takes a liking to Northup. But an argument with an overseer leads to trouble and he is sold on to Epps.

A scene in which Northup is strung up to a tree in front of the other slaves speaks to the dangers of individual opposition in a place where people rule by fear and have created a world that allows them to act as they like.

The film may leave a particularly unpleasant taste in the mouth and be difficult to recover from, but that's a testament to the strength of purpose with which McQueen has approached his subject and his unmatched ability to confront uncomfortable truths.

What others say

This, at last, really is history written with lightning. - Robbie Collin, ©The Daily Telegraph

The genius of "12 Years a Slave" is its insistence on banal evil, and on terror, that seeped into souls, bound bodies and reaped an enduring, terrible price. Manohla Dargis, The New York Times

The unutterable hurt and humility in [Northup's] final, eye-brimming address were overwhelming, and I had to tilt my head back to avoid an endless stream of tears. - Musa Okwonga, New Statesman