The Importance of Friendship and Marriage in the John Adams (2008) Miniseries

As a Canadian with only general knowledge of the American Revolution, HBO’s 2008 television miniseries, John Adams, presents an instructive overview of events. The miniseries begins with the Boston Massacre of 1770 and ends with the astonishing coincidence of the deaths of two founding fathers, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, on the same day—July 4, 1826, the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. I had expected the miniseries to tell a sweeping, engaging account of the Revolution as well as much of Adams’ adult life, as the series is based on David McCullough’s acclaimed 2001 biography of the Founding Father from Massachusetts. I was even more impressed to discover that this political story about the construction of a republic also offers careful—and today, refreshing—studies of the intimate bonds of friendship and marriage.

Paul Giamatti plays John Adams, and Laura Linney is Abigail, his wife. Their performances hold up the weight of the entire series. Giamatti’s performance leans into the man’s intellect and principles—as well as his own recognition of his intellect and principles, and his annoyance when others don’t recognize these same qualities. Giamatti is well-suited to the at-times cantankerous personality of Adams, especially as he grows old. Adams likes to give impassioned speeches, to his colleagues in the courtroom and in Congress, and in bed, to his wife. Linney’s Abigail is his most patient listener but also his keenest critic. We see her close involvement in John’s compositions, offering well-timed advice, which he tends to resist until he can no longer deny it’s correct. Their intelligent conversations in bed, at turns playful and serious, cover everything from the ideals for government to maneuvers of power, to how the children are doing, and to what to plant next year on the farm. The universal scope of their interests, engaging with everything from the largest issues to the smallest (John cares about how to mix manure and Abigail scrubs her windows) is daunting but deeply admirable. Viewed today, after House of Cards, John and Abigail seem like a less sinister, equally hardworking, and more Puritan version of Frank and Claire Underwood (played by Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright).

The other central intellectual relationship in John Adams is Adams’ complicated friendship with Thomas Jefferson. Stephen Dillane (known best for playing Stannis Baratheon in Game of Thrones) portrays Jefferson as a deep thinker and idealist, and someone who works quietly, which hides his keen ability to scheme and maneuver. Jefferson’s approach contrasts with Giamatti’s Adams, who thunders, at first idealistically, but also, at times, like an old crank.

Others in the cast are in fine form, but, apart from the core three, the cast is not uniformly strong. On the one hand, I like the late Tom Wilkinson as Benjamin Franklin; his performance accentuates the famous man’s eccentricity. On the other hand, David Morse’s portrayal of George Washington is wooden rather than stoic. We never sense much going on beneath the surface, which surely can’t be the case for the real Washington. Sarah Polley shows up as Adams’ daughter, who patiently faces trial after trial. Ebon Moss-Bachrach plays John Quincey Adams, but his quiet performance is a bit hard to swallow after his recent Emmy-winning portrayal as the blustering cousin Richie in The Bear.

Although Thomas Jefferson does not appear until the second episode, his relationship with Adams fuels one of the central dynamics in the show’s storyline. Adams and Jefferson are both involved in the composing the Declaration of Independence, but they become genuine friends while abroad in France on diplomatic missions during the Revolutionary War. After independence, their friendship gives way to political rivalry. The miniseries argues that even when building a new nation, people cannot start totally fresh—we are always bound to human nature and its product: human conflict.

Immediately, the new American Republic is beset with factions and parties. Why? Because people think differently. Adams and Jefferson are in different factions, with Adams, the first Vice President and second President, being drawn into the centralizing Federalist party (with Washington and Hamilton), whereas Jefferson (the third President) is the leader of the more radically revolutionary, pro-French, agrarian, and decentralizing Democratic-Republican party. Nevertheless, while Jefferson has a heel turn in the show when he defeats Adams for the presidency, they come back into friendship through extensive correspondence late in life, which is depicted in the final episode. In order to see how nuanced the miniseries’ depictions of the central relationships are, we need only turn to the boldly drawn lines of BFF or nemesis on display in the most famous depiction of the Founding Fathers in recent years: I’m talking about the melodramatic Hamilton musical.

Although John Adams explores factionalism, it also portrays Adams as a figure in between and, in a way, of no party. Sitting in the presidency between two Giants of American History, Washington and Jefferson, the show suggests that, while Adams may seem a lesser figure, he shouldn’t be overshadowed. Part of the ironic humour is that Adams, as the show paints it, felt this himself in his own lifetime. As a man who holds firm to his principles and sacrifices most of his life, and much of his family, for the construction of a better country, Adams wants his due in “posterity,” as the characters call it. One of the show’s achievements is that, although it portrays Adams as a complex man who thunders and shouts, who is fond of his own great intellect, and who is stubborn about principles as well as to win a point, Giamatti’s portrayal also reveals Adams to be a deeply admirable man. 

Although Adams is portrayed as having issues with his children (more on that below), he has an incredibly compelling relationship with his wife, Abigail. It’s clear they love each other and are companions and equals in life. One way the show makes this clear is through showing Adams, in intimate moments and in letters, refer to Abigail as “my friend.” This may strike us today as a little odd. Although it is pretty common for the bride and groom to praise each other as a best friend at weddings nowadays, I don’t know anyone who calls their spouse “my friend” as a term of affection. In the late eighteenth-century, marriages were often formed for practical and economical reasons (as now, love and friendship in marriage were hoped for, but there was less effort to paint them as the core purpose of marriage). In John Adams, John’s use of the term “friend” for Abigail demonstrates the close confidence and intellectual connection that the couple have, which was by no means the norm. 

At the same time, the show also shows sexual tenderness between a married couple in a way that most shows shy away from. (Sex, if it’s not played for humour, is for illicit affairs, one night stands, and unmarried young people on TV.) When, in episode three, the couple is reunited, the camera takes time to show their embraces, the inflamed attraction, the underdressing of complicated clothing, and, most importantly, the emotional underpinnings of their sexual union. No offense to Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney, but this scene of love-making and reunion is not about arousing the viewer. It’s about conveying the deep connection between the couple. It’s character-building, not extraneous. The presentation of their multifaceted marriage shows this to be a miniseries with a keen level of historical awareness, coupled with careful character construction. 

In spite of the show’s commendable interest in the past as the past (rather than as just a reflection of present day concerns), there are historical inaccuracies. I’m not an expert, so I won’t belabour the reader with a list of each one. One notable example, however, demonstrates how the miniseries does, at times, use convention story arcs to enhance the drama. The miniseries frames the relationship between John and his younger son, Charles, as one of conflict. We are led to believe that Charles grew up to be a dissolute and wayward adult because John wasn’t there for him as a kid, being away at Congress and then in Europe. In truth, John was back and forth between America and Europe a few times and Charles accompanied him for some of John’s time away. I often wonder at such choices: Did we really need the extra drama? Is history not interesting enough? At the same time, I do think that however redirected the relationship between John and Charles is, the show nevertheless plays out the events in an impactful, devastating way. The audience is confronted with the cost of public life on family, which underscores the sacrifice John likes to remind everyone he has taken on. If you are someone who cannot abide alterations and mistakes about the history, be forewarned. 

All in all, the attempts to convey the past in John Adams are significantly more convincing, and more thoroughly respectful to the difference and value of the past, than almost anything made for TV in the nearly two decades since John Adams was released. Viewed today, the show’s appreciation for history as history is one of its most admirable features.

The show is also notable as the breakout for director Tom Hooper, who would go on to win Best Director for The King’s Speech (2010) (which is a great movie, by the way). Hooper’s visual mannerisms are all present here: the frequent use of canted angles; a persistent interest in capturing the bluish-white look of daylight; handheld camerawork in intimate moments; and frequent odd-angled close-ups. Both works also have a common interest in portraying the past as something lived-in and well-worn.

Given what Tom Hooper was able to do with The King’s Speech, delivering a carefully developed relationship between principal leads, we shouldn’t be surprised that John Adams delivers central powerhouse performances from two acclaimed actors, Giamatti and Linney. John Adams is also satisfying as an intro to the American Revolution, and an illuminating window onto one of the Founding Fathers who isn’t exactly a household name outside the US of A.

John Adams (2008, USA)

Directed by Tom Hooper; written by Kirk Ellis; starring Paul Giamatti, Laura Linney, Stephen Dillane, David Morse, Tom Wilkinson, Danny Huston, Rufus Sewell, Justin Theroux, Guy Henry.

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