‘Death by Lightning’ Review: A Forgotten President, a Deranged Assassin, and the Politics of Power (Netflix)

Across nearly 250 years of American history, there have been four presidential assassinations. Two of them are endlessly discussed, remembered, and immortalized in countless books, movies, and TV shows: Abraham Lincoln’s in 1865 and John F. Kennedy’s in 1963. There’s a third one, that of William McKinley in 1901, killed during his second term — a crime that had serious political repercussions. And then there’s a fourth, which, as one character in this story puts it, ended up as a mere footnote in history. That’s the case resurrected, in fascinating fashion, by the miniseries Death by Lightning.

Told over four lively, often gripping episodes — it could almost have worked as a long feature with a few trims — the show, created by Mike Makowsky (Bad Education) and directed in full by Matt Ross (Captain Fantastic and still best known as an actor), revisits this little-known chapter of U.S. history by following two parallel paths that slowly converge: the rise of President James A. Garfield (Michael Shannon) and the strange, desperate trajectory of his eventual killer, Charles Guiteau (Matthew Macfadyen), in the early 1880s. Like two magnetic forces drawing inexorably toward each other, the miniseries tracks two lives that ran side by side in time but in opposite directions as human beings.

Garfield was a Republican politician — back then, it’s worth remembering, the more progressive of the two major parties — who reached the presidency in unusual fashion. After delivering a passionate speech at the Republican convention in support of fellow Ohioan John Sherman, he was met with a thunderous ovation. A few days later, when delegates found themselves hopelessly deadlocked between rival factions, Garfield’s name suddenly emerged as a consensus candidate. He never wanted to be president, but the party pushed him into it. To be fair, he didn’t fight too hard against the idea either.

In parallel, Death by Lightning follows the bizarre escapades of Guiteau, a mentally unstable con man and dreamer desperate to insert himself into the corridors of power — mostly to fix his financial troubles or feed his delusions of grandeur. The series recounts his personal and family misadventures until he crosses paths with Garfield and other figures vying for the 1880 Republican nomination. Desperate to make contact and secure any kind of political appointment, the increasingly unhinged Guiteau would stop at nothing to get noticed. But everyone around him could see right through him — they brushed him off, or kicked him out entirely.

The show delves deeply into the backroom wheeling and dealing of the era. To keep the Republican Party unified, Garfield and his ally James Blaine (a terrific Bradley Whitford) — representing what you might call the party’s “progressive wing” — are forced to ally with the more conservative (and, by implication, more corrupt and patronage-driven) faction. Enter Senator Roscoe Conkling (Shea Whigham) and his right-hand man, Chester Arthur (Nick Offerman), an alcoholic who becomes Garfield’s reluctant running mate. From the start, the tension between these factions is palpable. And once they win, those divisions explode — as happens in political parties the world over, to this day.

The series also gives weight to Garfield’s personal life. Married (Betty Gilpin plays his wife) and father of several children, he was a man who had grown up poor and continued to live modestly on his farm, from which he ran much of his campaign. He’s portrayed as principled, committed to advancing rights for African Americans — slavery had ended only a short time earlier — and determined to root out the corruption festering in Washington. None of them, of course, had any idea that the increasingly deranged Guiteau was lurking on the edges of that political storm.

Death by Lightning works especially well thanks to its superb cast, led by Macfadyen, in a role that recalls some shades of his Succession character — a man utterly convinced of his own importance, oblivious (or half-aware) that everyone around him mocks or ignores him. Shannon, unusually for his career, plays the calmest and most grounded person in the room, leaving it to Whigham and Offerman to embody the darker, more cynical face of politics.

Certain details — best left unspoiled — help explain why this assassination isn’t as well-known today as the others. But Makowsky suggests that if Garfield had lived to complete his term, the course of American history might have been quite different. At the same time, it’s impossible not to draw parallels with the present day — not so much in the kind of president depicted here (he’s about as far as you can get from the current type), but in the rise of figures like Guiteau: delusional, misinformed, armed, and ready to act for the most absurd of reasons. The show rushes a bit toward the end — skipping over what was a long and unsettling trial — but it still captivates with a story that’s obscure in its details yet sadly universal in its themes and implications.