The surprisingly effective remake of Roots is a history lesson in more ways than one. Adapted from the galvanizing 1977 miniseries (based on Alex Haley's novelistic account of his family lineage), the History Channel series recaptures the urgency and horror of its source material while also highlighting the evolution of television as a creative medium, especially in comparison to the original Roots of nearly 40 years ago. Whereas Haley’s initial adaptation was produced for a mass audience – it’s estimated that over 130 million people watched all eight episodes – this update is made for cable, with cleaner production values as well as a far more artful construction.
Roots’ scope is exceedingly rare for American television as it stands today, spanning centuries despite maintaining an intimate focus on the evolution of an African American family. Thus in watching the new eight-hour series, which runs briskly and is of a considerable entertainment value, I was struck by its lavish and grand – one could reasonably call it old-fashioned – approach to storytelling. This Roots is structured carefully, with each of its four two-hour installments written and produced as standalone films with unique points of entry: the first on a young Kunta Kinte’s (Malachi Kirby) capture in Timbuktu, and subsequent transport to Annapolis in the mid-1700s; the second on his life as John Waller’s (James Purefoy) slave, during which time he falls in love with Bell (Emayatzy Corinealdi) and has his first and only child, Kizzy (Emyri Crutchfield); the third on Kizzy (now an adult, played by Anika Noni Rose) and her son George (Regé-Jean Page) as they navigate life under the harsh ownership of Tom Lea (Jonathan Rhys Meyers); and the fourth on George, married and a father to four, finally living as a free man and fighting to victory in the American Civil War. These episodes are each distinctly rendered and cumulatively powerful, juxtaposing the perseverance of the Kinte bloodline with their inhumane and brutal surroundings.
The ingenuity of this conceit – one reflected in the original, not to mention the title itself – is the way it realizes such an idealized and inspiring American narrative against the backdrop of the nation’s darkest chapter. The miniseries pays tribute to the human spirit – particularly that of those whose pain and disenfranchisement helped to build a global empire – while managing a scathing critique at every turn. It works with lush emotion, its highest points made up of births, reunions, weddings and first kisses. But it also understands them in an appropriately tragic context. George is shipped off to England for decades after a stinging betrayal by Tom Lea; the impact of his return home, and that first hug with his wife Mathilda (Erica Tazel), is accentuated by the harrowing nature of his long departure. Kizzy’s undying strength as a mother matches her overprotectiveness, a trait developed within the show by her exposure to the depths of white hate and repression. These circumstances, however dire, enhance the domestic conflict; the family drama is leveled by bleak conveyances of the American sociopolitical history.
The new Roots is still intended for a broad audience – it tugs on the heartstrings, rushes into action and traces family lineage with all the subtlety of an AP History textbook – but it manages to find intricacies through superb performances and strong writing. The scripts are drafted by Sopranos veteran Lawrence Konner, Mark Rosenthal, Alison McDonald and Charles Murray, respectively; in addition to their aforementioned strength in tight, thoughtful structuring, they expertly weave together historical and interpersonal details in character relationships that are meant to both affect and inform. Major events such as the Revolutionary War are integrated into the smaller-scale nature of the drama, while other issues such as the election of Andrew Jackson are cleverly interspersed in the intra-white dialogue. The Civil War unfortunately overwhelms the fourth and final installment, leaving too little room for the sober, if uplifting, conclusion that the miniseries builds to.
Although 1977’s Roots in many ways introduced television’s potential as a purveyor of artistic – even necessary – stories and ideas, this update enters a landscape where the expectations couldn’t be higher. Particularly as a closer to the 2015-16 season, in which the “limited series” may have had its best year yet – from American Crime to Fargo to The People v. O.J. Simpson – the notion of this Roots being especially significant was difficult to imagine. Yet the combination of unflinching tragedy and emotional accessibility allows it to stand out among the more avant-garde, esoteric fare being praised at present. Particularly, the naked performances of Kirby and Rose – as they imbue Kunta and Kizzy with such resolve – feel vital in that sense, unwilling to be limited by circumstance and transcending the very idea of what a “slave narrative” should look and feel like. They’re remarkable for what they bring to this production – and for how they build on the more simplistic (if still effective) performances of the original, another example of this Roots' added historical value – and are given solid support by Meyers, Page and especially Forest Whitaker, who plays a slave master radicalized after being reminded of the past he’d forsaken to survive.
Roots remains a difficult watch in its 2016 incarnation, with some scenes specifically agonizing to sit through. This, of course, is crucial to the miniseries’ success, and even as the 18th-19th century American South is finally finding a place on-screen – Underground is a new hit on WGN, and 12 Years a Slave won the Oscar just a few years ago – the images and sounds of Roots remain disorienting, sickening and incredibly disturbing. They provoke as convincing reenactment, and challenge the American narrative with piercing clarity. The trick of Roots is its undercurrent of optimism in the willpower and lovingness of its subjects, of its own American family. Television, as a form and a cultural center, has changed quite a bit in the last 40 years. But as we still struggle to reconcile our past with our present, our history with our identity, an update like this Roots – what with its refined construct, spiritual congruence and spiffy visual palette, relative to the original – provides a critical reminder of what a remake can and should be.
Grade: A-