Like rhythm and blues or the weather, some things ain’t what they used to be. When I first arrived in the United States in the early 2000s, History Channel (or HISTORY as it now insists on being called) was a reliable guilty pleasure, like eating leftover lasagna for breakfast. Despite the derision of certain snobbish historians, for many viewers (including my recently-immigrated self) History Channel provided a digestible and stimulating diet of TV infotainment, ranging from solid documentaries on the American Revolution to the excellent Modern Marvels series. Then, slowly, things went downhill. Whether from simple laziness or cynical dumbing-down, the History Channel began churning out a sludge-tide of reality shows and conspiracy-theory garbage ranging from the formulaic (Pawn Stars) to the downright silly (Ancient Aliens). At some point, I confess, I lost interest.
If nothing else, History Channel’s new three-part miniseries Grant is a welcome attempt to reconnect with history buffs whose attention might otherwise be lost. In this regard, it outshines History’s other recent efforts to break loose of its self-imposed reality TV bubble, including the glossy America: The Story of Us. Though not quite attaining the Ken Burns standard of American historical documentary, Grant is not too shabby either. Executive-produced by Leonardo DiCaprio, and written by Grant and Hamilton biographer Ron Chernow, the series blends Hollywood narrative with some serious scholarly fixings. Its release in the middle of a global stay-at-home pandemic could not have been better timed for ratings, but cynics should note that this was no rushed production. (Reportedly, Chernow, DiCaprio, and Steven Spielberg have been collaborating on a Ulysses S. Grant biopic, with DiCaprio in the leading role. Whether COVID-19 hammers a coffin nail into these plans remains to be seen). The docudrama format, a push-me-pull-you of dramatic reenactment with expert commentary, is inevitably a compromise. The dramatization lends some spice to the talking-head flow, but the to-and-fro between historical action and commentary comes at the expense of both imaginative immersion and in-depth reflection. Unlike, for example, Spielberg’s 2012 Lincoln biopic, the dramatization in Grant serves more as a gilded frame than as a landscape populated by living, breathing people. Take the relatively unknown Justin Salinger, who serviceably portrays the title character in Grant. Salinger’s Grant is tough, stoic, yet curiously underfed, the glowing tip of a fat cigar telegraphing his man-of-action credentials as much as his acting. Compared to other portrayals (most notably the excellent Jared Harris in Spielberg’s aforementioned Lincoln), Salinger just doesn’t quite convey the gravitas evident even in Grant’s earliest daguerreotype portraits. Much the same could be said of South African-born actor Carel Nel (Abraham Lincoln), though Nel pulls off a creditable vocal impersonation of Daniel Day-Lewis’s portrayal of our 16th President in Spielberg’s splendid movie. Other characters, including Julia Dent Grant, Robert E. Lee, and Frederick Douglass are nicely represented, but Grant’s docudrama format never fully allows these characters to spread their wings. On the plus side, Grant’s talking heads, while sometimes reduced to soundbite, lend real insight to the show. Ron Chernow cannily places himself front and center, and at times the series feels like a subliminal advertisement for his 1,100-page biography of the same title. Nevertheless, the series showcases a broad array of leading scholars to explore Grant’s life and legacy. On a personal note, I was delighted to recognize some past speakers from Miami University Hamilton’s own Colligan History Project, including Allen Guelzo and Caroline Janney. Unlike previous History Channel documentaries, Grant wisely steered clear of “celebrity” commentators. The most publicly recognizable expert was General David Petraeus, a former professor at Grant’s alma mater, the United States Military Academy. Another strong addition was essayist Ta-Nehisi Coates, who reflected sympathetically on Grant’s struggles to confront problems of racism and slavery in American society, including his epic struggle against the Ku Klux Klan. Grant’s duration lets viewers sink their teeth into the life and career of this iconic general. Despite the military focus of the first two episodes, the detail and strategy never gets overwhelming. The series ranges from Grant’s cadetship at West Point (contemporary with future friends and foes such as Sherman and Longstreet), to his service in the Mexican War, and subsequent struggles with alcohol and poverty (after resigning his commission, Grant was at one point reduced to selling firewood to support his family). Launching into his meteoric rise during the Civil War, episode one concludes with the bloody crucible of Shiloh, and the series faithfully relates the major campaigns of Grant’s career including Vicksburg, Fort Donelson, Chattanooga, and Cold Harbor. Most gruesome of all were the Battle of the Wilderness—where Union and Confederate soldiers battled amid a burning forest—and Fort Pillow, where future KKK founder Nathan Bedford Forrest commanded the massacre of African American POWs. (Such historic violence is addressed frankly, but never gratuitously.) Grant’s postwar career, including Reconstruction, and his troubled two-term Presidency, feel a little shoehorned into last hour of the final episode. Such abridgment is understandable, given the demands of commercial TV (by contrast, Ken Burns’s Civil War on PBS showed what could be done with a nine-episode documentary, without breaking a sweat). Though not perfect by any means, Grant is definitely worth a few hours of pandemic lockdown viewing. Hopefully it marks the beginning of a return to some form for the History Channel. More please! GRADE: B
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AuthorMatthew Smith, PhD (History). Public Programs at Miami University Regionals. Historian of Appalachia, the Ohio Valley, & the early American republic. Archives
February 2024
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