As he does in Shame and Hunger, Steve McQueen pulls no punches in 12 Years a Slave, which is one of the reasons it is the most important movie to see this year. Based Solomon Northup’s autobiography of the same name, McQueen’s film goes beyond relaying horrific nature of slavery and the dangers of righteousness – though there are many times throughout the film that it’s difficult not be reminded. Rather, 12 Years a Slave highlights two important histories often lost in the retelling of slavery in the Americas and its attempt at redemption post-Civil War. Unflinchingly, McQueen shows us the nefariousness ripe within a culture of consumption and ownership, while debunking the myth that freedom was guaranteed in the North.
This first history is demonstrated most thoroughly through Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender), a malevolent, righteous plantation owner. A self-proclaimed man of God, Epps is an amalgam of all Southern, slave owning stereotypes. He is liberal with whippings, professes to be the teacher of savages, and slinks off to rape his enslaved women behind his wife’s back. Characteristically, Fassbender is solid in his role. This film marks the third time that he and McQueen have worked together, and – if Shame was not an indication – 12 Years a Slave makes it clear that this relationship should continue for quite a while. However, like Brandon in Shame, there are hyperbolic, almost villainously cartoonish moments that take over Epps. This is particularly evident when we witness the pleasure he takes in whipping Patsey (Lupita Nyong’o), the object of his rapist’s intentions.
Patsey is the most heart-rending character this year on screen, and Nyong’o plays her magnificently, with a steady calm and patience that begs us to wonder how a culture survived as long as it did in bondage. It’s in this character that we most see the horrors within the culture of ownership. In the fields, she picks over 500 pounds of cotton a day for Epps – more than twice as much as any other man or woman on his field crew – and on the plantation her body belongs to Epps for his pleasure. More than once, she begs Northup (Chiwetal Ojiofor) to end her life and “buy [herself] mercy,” offering him payment for his troubles, but more profoundly, we see the disenfranchised placing a price on their own lives. So indoctrinated to being treated like chattel – most horrifically depicted as Master Freeman (Paul Giamatti) gathers prospective buyers in his home to show off the slaves’ teeth and bodies — they find it impossible to break free of their station even in begging for death.
Scenes like this better remind us of the massive fractures found within the slave community, where aiding a slave in need results in being whipped, and the idea of a group revolt is quashed because of the fear of guilt by association. In turn, each slave becomes a snitch on the other. Each slave exists solely to fight for his or her own freedom, but is restricted from fighting for others – even if they are hanging from a tree branch, standing on their tip toes in mud that keeps giving way to gravity. This is not novel information to add to the canon of American slavery, but it is astounding to see it on screen and create some of the most difficult moments on screen to endure.
Often, McQueen plays with the ideas of Free Papers, documents that prove freedom has been awarded or purchased. Solomon Northup (Ojiofor) was a freeman in Saratoga, NY. A violinist, he was part of the middle class, with a wife, two children, and a house of more-than-modest means. Introduced briefly to men named Brown and Hamilton, he accompanies them to Washington, D.C., believing that they are paying him to provide his musical abilities to audiences watching circus with “creatures from the darkest of Africa.” Here, the clear double meaning is apparent to any viewer, but the nonchalance with which Northup accept the men’s offer and accompanies them to D.C. illustrates an ignorance separate from that felt by the enslaved. Simply, Northup’s possession of papers, though he does not carry them on him, provide him the illusion of both safety and equality, wherein he is only safe with his papers in a non-corrupt system of government – something that seems to disappear once he enters D.C. and subsequently New Orleans – and equal only when he has something of monetary value to offer. This is most evident when Northup and his wife are in a shop, haggling over prices with the merchant, but are interrupted by a slave who wanders in for a look. While the slave is quickly shooed away, Northup is welcome so long as he has money to spend.
Shortly after accompanying Brown and Hamilton, Northup joins them for dinner, is drugged, and wakes in a concrete room, chained to the floor. Upon being renamed Platt, his identity is fully stripped, and he becomes property of exchange, bought by Freeman, sold to Master Ford (Benedict Cumberbatch), who proceeds to exchange him — in an attempt to keep both Northup and his own family alive – to Epps.
Throughout, we are bombarded with how objectified human beings become and how disjointed society seems, for the slaves, the freemen, and the whites. McQueen is steady in his criticisms, and he is honest in his portrayals. Ojiofor recites tomes of emotion written in the blood of histories, only with his eyes. So emotive is he that it’s impossible to look away. 12 Years a Slave is powerful, unforgettable, and necessary.
