1x01 Join or Die

[8.1/10] There’s something counterintuitive, but telling, about the fact that the first chapter of a story about one of our founding fathers starts with the Boston Massacre, but is founded not on the struggles of the colonists, but on the defense of the redcoats. It could be a film all its own -- John Adams’s Atticus Finch-like defense of those hated British soldiers whose firing on the Sons of Liberty became a cause celebre in the colonies. Instead, it is merely the first part of a testament to John Adams’s character.

That’s what’s so interesting to me about the first part of Tom Hooper’s miniseries about the life and times of our second President (spoiler alert for history, I guess). This episode is less about the events of the Boston Massacre or the Boston Tea Party or the other major events you may have read about in history class than it is about this peculiar man caught up in these events. John Adams paints its eponymous protagonist as a man caught in the middle, bound to certain principles he cleaves to no matter the circumstances, which put him on either side of the Revolutionary/Tory divide, until he can straddle the line no more.

That central principle is a respect for the rights of man, to be afforded justice, to be afforded peace, and to be afforded equality and fairness under the law. It is that principle which moves him to defend Captain Preston and the other British soldiers who fired on the crowd of colonists, despite the communal bitterness against them in his fellow “New England Men.” It is that same principle that sees him joining the Revolutionary legislative body, as a response to the Crown depriving the local right to trials, to peace in their homes, and indeed, to protection under the law.

That is his greatest devotion. It’s hard, in a post-Better Call Saul era, to look upon a character so devoted to the ideal of “the law” without a hint of suspicion that it is, perhaps, a self-serving view. And yet, Hooper’s series presents John as genuinely devoted to it, whether it means chastising his cousin for the barbarism of tarring and feathering by the revolutionary rabble, or expressing reticence at being an appointee of the crown, seen to have taken sides or be in someone’s pocket rather than dispassionately offering equal justice and fundamental rights to whomever they are owed. It is that belief, not devotion to the colonial cause nor rejection of English right, that moves him to join the fray.

That said, “Join or Die” subtly notes that such rights, however supported by those in power or at the height of the rabble, are not enjoyed by everyone. In the aftermath of the massacre, Hooper’s camera lingers on the body of Crispus Attucks, the black man felled in the shooting. It also lingers on another African American called to testify, who plainly wants to tell the truth about what he saw and heard that night, but faces the intimidation and the silent threats of the white men who surround him at the bar. Whatever ideals and principles are at play, they do not extend to those who wish to uphold the same notions of truth and fairness that John Adams champions, but whose skin color denies them the protections Adams’ affords him at the time.

To that end, it’s striking how much relevance this episode has to the modern day. The story of protestors, whose behavior much of the public considers unruly, dealing with what more still consider excessive force and disproportionate response from law enforcement, is unnervingly resonant to the present moment. The same debates, over what allowance we make for those in uniform charged with keeping the peace, what concomitant allowances we make for an abused populace fighting for their rights, and how a society of laws can resolve the two, are with us today, with the character changed, but the tone much the same.

The film casts Adams’ friends and family on opposite sides of that debate. It frames Sam Adams as the representative of the Sons of Liberty, encouraging his cousin, John, to join their cause or at least refrain from hindering it. On the other side is Jonathan Sewall, the Attorney General and representative of the Crown, who loses to Adams in court, but views him as a potential asset to the loyalist cause. One of the smart tricks that Hooper and writer Kirk Ellis deploy is to put Adams between the two, equally sympathetic and ready to chastise both, a man who feels ill-at-ease on either side of that divide.

And yet he finds guidance from his wife, Abigail. The thing that stops “Join or Die” from feeling like a glossy but largely abstract exercise in examining the roots of the revolution is the relationship between Mrs. Adams and her husband. Theirs is a partnership, one where Abigail is John’s supporter, but also one not afraid to criticize him, to note hints of vanity and ambition, to poke through his staid veneer and even poke fun at him, with the love and trust that comes from a strong marriage. John, in turn, takes his wife’s advice, confides in her, and bows to a certain amount of tact and practicality that he does not always possess. There is a humanity and a sweetness to their interactions that grounds the grand events of “Join or Die”, and makes them feel more real and personal.

The same can be said for Hooper’s now-infamous shot choices. I’ll confess that, knowing to look for them, his regular use of severe close-ups and dutch angles can be distracting. But it also puts the central figures of this story on display, allowing close expressions and subtle glances to rule the day. In more adventurous cinematography, Adams finishes his closing argument, and the shot pulls back from a close-up of his oration, to focus on the British soldiers he gestures to in the background, symbolizing the way he aims to use his orante words to put their essential humanity into the foreground. For however much Hooper’s visual style may be derided, it works for this more personal take on the wide-ranging events of the American revolution and the story’s central figure.

That central figure is one who did not seem to wish for a break from England nor a continuation of the status quo. He merely found himself swept up into history, somebody who may have quietly thought himself great, but never viewed himself as desirous of the chance to move or shake a nation. Despite that, he is a man whose beliefs pulled him inexorably toward independence, despite the transgressions of his fellow New Englanders, in view of the excesses of the Crown, that pull his heart and his mind to one side, whether he wants it or not.