"Death by Lightning" Dramatizes the Assassination America Forgot

"History is littered with examples of the havoc wreaked by politicians' will to power. No wonder, then, that voters cling to the fantasy of the self-effacing candidate-the kind who demonstrates his worthiness of the office by not wanting it at all. The jaunty and absorbing new miniseries "Death by Lightning" posits that America had the closest thing to such a leader in James Garfield (played by Michael Shannon), an obscure"

""Death by Lightning," a four-part limited series now streaming on Netflix, styles itself as "a true story about two men the world forgot": Garfield, who would become the twentieth President of the United States, and Charles Guiteau (Matthew Macfadyen), his eventual assassin. The show's creator and writer, Mike Makowsky, sets the action firmly in the post-Reconstruction era: the Civil War casts a long shadow, and Garfield's chief obstacle in the"

"election is not his Democratic opponent but a cynical operator within his own party whose influence stems from the spoils system. Yet Makowsky's irony- and anachronism-laced retelling makes the story modern. Characters curse freely ("fuck it"), and Guiteau's first scene-a parole hearing in which he's called "a liar and a fraud"-alludes to his stint at the "free-love colony" in Oneida, New York. Guiteau's disgusted brother-in-law later calls it what it is: "a sex cult.""

Death by Lightning portrays James Garfield, an obscure Ohio congressman, transforming into the Republican presidential nominee through stirring oratory and unexpected self-effacement. The series situates the story in the post-Reconstruction era when the G.O.P., dominant since the Civil War, has descended into machine politics and corruption. Garfield is depicted as an idealistic moralist who appeals to colleagues weary of patronage and the spoils system. Charles Guiteau, portrayed as an unstable hanger-on with ties to Oneida's free-love colony, becomes obsessed and ultimately assassinates Garfield. The creator Mike Makowsky modernizes the narrative with irony, anachronisms, and frank language, framing both men's ambitions and delusions.

Read at The New Yorker