U.S.A.? U.S.A.!: 14 warts-and-all celebrations of American democracy in action

History and entertainment took a very different tack on Adams in the lively, banter-filled stage musical and later movie-musical 1776, which seems to take as its thesis the old epigram about how people who would respect either laws or sausages should not watch how either are made. The Adams of 1776 (played to perfection in the film by William Daniels) is a patriot and a revolutionary, leading America to declare independence from England. But he’s also a blustering crank who herds Congress along by shouting and bullying, and via chicanery, flattery, and back-room deals. Among other things, he badgers Thomas Jefferson into writing the Declaration Of Independence, cozens Richard Henry Lee of Virginia into putting the matter before Congress, pulls Delaware’s Caesar Rodney from his deathbed to shift his state’s vote, and ultimately caves on the moral question of slavery in order to secure Southern support. While the film does ultimately respect the intellects of the members of the 1776 Continental Congress—and ends with the triumphant signing of the Declaration—it’s still a surprisingly bitter, salty look at how democracy actually works, how government committees reshape even the most crucial proposals to suit specific interests and prejudices of the moment, and how any material that makes it through the sausage-grinder is—as Ben Franklin says here, specifically about revolutions and “bastard children”—“half improvised and half compromised.” (Another delightful Franklin line from 1776: “Don’t worry, John, the history books will clean it up.”)

In The Devil And Daniel Webster, even Beelzebub is subject to the laws and statutes laid down by the Constitution. Stephen Vincent Benét’s classic twist on Faust recasts the hapless soul-seller as Jabez Stone (James Craig), a New Hampshire farmer who sells, or rather leases, his soul to the devil in exchange for prosperity. When “Mr. Scratch” (Walter Huston) comes to pick up his bounty, Stone hires the brilliant lawyer and orator Daniel Webster (Edward Arnold), who argues that as an American, Stone cannot be drafted into the service of a foreign prince (of darkness, as it were) and has an inalienable right to a fair trial. The Devil And Daniel Webster functions as both an irresistible morality play and a thoughtful meditation on whether our nation’s sins—primarily slavery, which was still a going concern during the period in which the tale is set—outweigh its considerable virtues. Stone, Webster, and the American way of life emerge triumphant: even the devil’s hand-picked jury of the damned has to respect Webster’s silver tongue and tireless faith in the American justice system.

Granted, a story about a presidential look-alike who’s fraudulently installed in office might not seem like a story about democracy in action—no matter how righteously the fake prez wields power. But Dave takes a turn at the end, as Kevin Kline’s Dave Kovic unravels a conspiracy by the White House chief of staff, and works to clear the besmirched name of the vice president, who later ascends to office legally and continues Kovic’s policies when the real president dies. Faith in the system restored, Dave returns home and runs for city council, now confident that one good man can accomplish something noble through public service.

John Ford’s episodic look at the early days of Abraham Lincoln sidesteps the usual problems with portraying a figure as looming as our 16th president by catching him before he became an icon. In Young Mr. Lincoln, Henry Fonda plays Lincoln-in-the-making, an awkward, well-liked misfit who finds his calling in the law and uses wit and misdirection to get what he wants. He even solves a murder mystery at one point. Ford is working at the top of his game, but the weight of the piece falls on Fonda’s shoulders. He begins the film an unsure, unsteady young man full of good intentions. He ends it possessing confidence, knowledge picked up deep in the trenches of a flawed system and an unfair society, and a full awareness of the cost of doing the right thing. He becomes Abraham Lincoln, in other words.

Though the specifics of this Andrew Johnson hagiopic diverge fairly dramatically from actual, y’know, history, the movie’s heart is in the right place. By dramatizing Johnson’s rise from poverty and illiteracy to the presidency, Tennessee Johnson takes the Horatio Alger bootstrap myth to its logical extreme. And in its depiction of Johnson’s impeachment trial and eventual return to the Senate post-presidency, the movie champions the need for the common man to take his place alongside the entrenched, so that all Americans are represented in government.

A lesser-known (and in some ways better) story of D.C. idealism and corruption than Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, the comparatively low-key Washington Story stars Van Johnson as a squeaky-clean young senator shadowed by ambitious reporter Patricia Neal, who itches to catch him accepting a bribe from a notorious lobbyist. The problem? Johnson listens to what the lobbyist has to say, and changes his vote without any money switching hands. How is a muckraker supposed to squeeze a good scandal out of that? While the plot plays out, Washington Story takes viewers inside the personalities and mechanisms of Congress, from the bipartisan alliances to the little trams that shuttle people to and from the chambers. And throughout, the movie makes the point that while the system is corruptible, that doesn’t necessarily make it corrupt.