Martyrdom. Compulsion. Slavery. Through excellent visual choices and superb acting, Steve McQueen's films handcuff audiences to the plights of their characters and refuse to provide any opportunity for escape. While we (hopefully) previously understood these tragic concepts in sympathetic terms, McQueen's films force us to confront them in a more direct manner and recognize their alienating effects.
12 Years a Slave treats history as it actually happens - suddenly and without convenient narrative structure. While Solomon Northup's (Chiwetel Ejiofor) experiences provides a frame through which to view slavery and the 1850s, his encounters with others are refreshingly random. He meets other enslaved men (played by Chris Chalk and Michael K. Williams) who are swept out of his life just as easily as they enter it. Once enslaved, he's tossed between different slave owners, leaving us with no idea where the film will take us next. In fact, considering how quickly characters seem to appear and disappear in this setting, it wouldn't be all that surprising if Solomon himself were killed (though, yes, context clues clearly inform us that Solomon will last at least 12 years). The series of events that make up the film drive home Solomon's complete lack of agency within slavery-era America and the twisting, coincidental nature of history. This choice both subverts the usual period piece tropes of characters' fates being telegraphed and adds to our understanding of Solomon as a victim of history.
On the subject of solemnity, there's a reason why the film is rated R for "cruelty." McQueen captures atrocities in vivid detail, from the unblinking record of the rape of Patsey (Lupita Nyong'o) to the brutal whipping Solomon is forced to give her. Last year's Django Unchained set the violence of slavery within the context of a Western fantasy, so while blood and guts erupted and torture was commonplace, the setting made it less upsetting. Here, stripped of any reassuring context or guarantee that wrongs will be righted, the violence is much more painful. While Solomon (like Django) is reunited with his wife at the end of the film, the feeling is anything but triumphant. Solomon hasn't slayed any dragons nor changed any southern minds about slavery - his only victory is survival. And with that comes survivor's guilt and regrets for his previous inaction. It offers no relief for our fears about the arc of the moral universe and refuses to let us off the hook when the film ends.
Despite the film's grimness and McQueen's more minimal approach to dialogue, he and Ejiofor make Solomon a real character with whom viewers can empathize. We feel Solomon's rage during the beginning of his enslavement, and we can see that this frustration never really subsides. It's always there, hidden to ensure his survival but always hovering just under the surface, ready to escape during moments where he's betrayed or feels himself becoming less than a free man. In addition to the physical punishments of slavery, Ejiofor and McQueen communicate the emotional struggle Solomon encounters (and the heartbreaking deprivation of human rights) through his mental attempts to maintain his freedom. We see how he separates himself from the slaves despite the owners' standardization and willful ignorance of Solomon's past. At a slave's funeral, he finally joins in their song, but is overwhelmed by grief (at his personal loss of liberty rather than the death).
The southern beneficiaries of slavery - from the cruel plantation owner Epps (Michael Fassbender) and his frustrated wife (Sarah Paulson) to the temporarily benevolent plantation owner Ford (Benedict Cumberbatch) and the trader who notices every detail of his slaves except their humanity (Paul Giamatti) - each have their own attitudes about slavery. There are stark differences between Solomon's two masters: Ford is relatively indifferent to the injustice of slavery without being intentionally malicious, while Epps is sexually aroused by the concept*. In exposing the viewer to the various parts of the slave trade and plantation system, we see how - while there may be different levels of guilt - the whole society is complicit in permitting the continuation of a wretched institution.
While McQueen applies his fascinating visual style and interests to great effect in this examination of slavery, is 12 Years a Slave's condemnation of a widely-recognized atrocity as revolutionary as the press hype makes it out to be? Is it overwhelmingly deeper than the insights into martyrdom and repression/addiction offered by Hunger and Shame? I would answer "no" to those two questions, but - for its portrait of a man's lonely quest for survival in a realistically unpredictable world - 12 Years a Slave is still one of the year's best films.
* His attraction to Patsey seems to be motivated by her record-setting cotton picking.
The cast is largely excellent, though Cumberbatch never really gets the southern accent and the appearance of Brad Pitt is a little vibe-killing.
Crew & Cast
Directed by Steve McQueen (Hunger, Shame)
Written by John Ridley (Red Tails, Undercover Brother, All is By My Side, U Turn), based on the book by Solomon Northup
Cast
Chiwetel Ejiofor - Solomon Northup
Lupita Nyong'o - Patsey
Benedict Cumberbatch - Ford
Paul Dano - Tibeats
Michael Fassbender - Edwin Epps
Sarah Paulson - Mistress Epps