A harrowing treatise on human dignity and the psychological effects of its absence on both the oppressor and the oppressed, Steve McQueen’s 12 Years A Slave tells the horrifying story of Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor).
A free black man in New York in 1841, Northup is tricked by a group of musicians into slavery under the guise of joining their traveling troupe. The film then follows his life for the twelve years in which he is forced into human bondage.
The script, based on Northup’s memoir, throws in as many characters as possible. For a film of such wide scope, though, it never feels overcrowded. Most of these characters work in the grand scheme of things—Alfre Woodard’s brief appearance as a plantation owner’s wife may be one of the best cameos in a film this year — yet there are some unfortunate casting choices for otherwise well-written characters. For example, Brad Pitt brings close to nothing to his performance as a sympathetic abolitionist.
The cinematography, by longtime McQueen collaborator Sean Bobbit, proves once again that the movie camera is the best canvas to analyze the human face. That conclusion is helped in no small part by the magnificent performances of Ejiofor, Michael Fassbender as a psychotic slavemaster, and Lupita Nyong’o, a newcomer, as Patsy, a female slave who forms a bond with Northup. These performances, alongside the Southern setting, allow 12 Years to simmer off the screen in the heat of its setting and its events.
Hans Zimmer’s (Inception, The Dark Knight) score, one of the best American film scores since last year’s The Master, pulsates on a soundscape McQueen creates that does not allow the viewer to take refuge from any of the brutality onscreen.
Despite the complexity of visuals, sounds and acting, and even a few weaker performances, the film overall is a simple plea for the respect of human dignity, and the horrors that abound when it’s ignored.