1776 (1972)

 

1776 is a musical retelling of the deliberations of the Second Continental Congress over the issue of whether or not to declare independence from Great Britain. Much of the action takes place in and around the Philadelphia State House where the congress was meeting, leaving the movie with a somewhat claustrophobic, stage-bound feeling, and it covers the period between May 8 and July 4 of that year when the debate was especially rancorous and antagonistic. Massachusetts’ John Adams (played by William Daniels) represents the pro-revolution side of the debate, but he’s too annoying and belligerent for many of the other delegates to agree with him. The opposition is primarily voiced by Pennsylvania’s John Dickinson (Donald Madden), who is one of the delegates reluctant to commit themselves to a break with England because of the potential economic impact such a split might have and because they have not been as affected as New England by the fighting that has been occurring. Nevertheless, Adams gets enough votes to approve the drafting of a declaration to be considered by the Congress in early July, and with the assistance of Benjamin Franklin (Howard Da Silva), he convinces Thomas Jefferson (a very young Ken Howard) to write the document. You won’t gain any insights into the personalities of our Founding Fathers since the film (and presumably the Broadway musical from which it was adapted) sticks to the sort of stereotypical impressions many people already have. Franklin, for instance, is the avuncular libertine, always quick with a joke or an innuendo, and Jefferson is the quiet, reflective type, prone to daydreaming and idealistic statements. The other members of the congress are painted with very broad strokes, each of them given a distinctive trait so that you can better recall which is which. For example, Rhode Island’s Stephen Hopkins (Roy Poole) stays drunk on rum for most of the movie, Lewis Morris (Howard Caine) of New York always “courteously” abstains from voting, and Delaware’s Caesar Rodney (William Hansen) is physically weak because he is dying from cancer but remains fervently in support of independence. Of course, you should never turn to films about real events like this for historically accurate information, but his film repeatedly strains credulity, such as when it suggests that Jefferson is unable to write the Declaration of Independence because he is too horny from missing his wife, Martha (Blythe Danner, who needs only a couple of minutes to make a lasting impression), and his writer’s block gets broken when Adams invites Mrs. Jefferson to visit Philadelphia. What’s worse for a viewer is having to watch the entire congress edit the document almost beyond recognition, and it is especially difficult to watch the southern delegates refuse to support a version that calls for the end of slavery. John Cullum’s Edward Rutledge of South Carolina is particularly galling during these moments, and the song he’s given, “Molasses to Rum,” while accurate in its depiction of Northern hypocrisy over its involvement in the slave trade, is nonetheless cringe-inducing in its defense of the “peculiar institution.” None of the songs are particularly memorable or especially hummable, to be honest, but one, “Mama Look Sharp,” performed by the courier who brings periodic dispatches from General George Washington (Stephen Nathan), the congressional custodian Andrew McNair (William Duell), and a character simply known as “Leather Apron” (Mark Montgomery), is beautifully sung and staged. The film is a solid reminder of how difficult the creation of the United States was, but it’s rather puzzling that the filmmakers didn’t wait until America’s Bicentennial to release the film; it was only four years away, after all.

Oscar Nomination: Best Cinematography