The smug postscript at the end of this mess of a movie makes brief mention of the 1998 DNA testing as a way of vindicating everything which has gone before.  While the DNA tests (combined with a preponderance of historical evidence) makes it almost certain that Thomas Jefferson was the father of Eston Hemings, the tests are as important for what they disprove.

Among other things, one claim conclusively disproven was Jefferson's paternity of Thomas Woodson, which renders the entire Parisian chapter of this movie a complete fiction.  It goes downhill from that point, with the narrative implying an extended correspondence between Jefferson & Hemings (there is no evidence that Sally Hemings was even literate), that Hemings was involved in some naiscent Underground Railroad (again, who knows?) and that Sally Hemings pops up unannounced at the White House one night (was it really that easy for a slave to travel from Charlottesville to Washington DC undetected?) to kiss & make up with "Thomas."

In between all of these historical improbabilities, we are subjected to pontificating of the first order.  Nothing kills romance faster than speechifying.  It ends up being a lose-lose situation: bad history combined with some deadly-dull romance.  Ugh!  Once it became clear where this was going (in the first 30 minutes, really), I should have quit while I was ahead.
The smug postscript at the end of this mess of a movie makes brief mention of the 1998 DNA testing as a way of vindicating everything which has gone before. While the DNA tests (combined with a preponderance of historical evidence) makes it almost certain that Thomas Jefferson was the father of Eston Hemings, the tests are as important for what they disprove. Among other things, one claim conclusively disproven was Jefferson's paternity of Thomas Woodson, which renders the entire Parisian chapter of this movie a complete fiction. It goes downhill from that point, with the narrative implying an extended correspondence between Jefferson & Hemings (there is no evidence that Sally Hemings was even literate), that Hemings was involved in some naiscent Underground Railroad (again, who knows? ) and that Sally Hemings pops up unannounced at the White House one night (was it really that easy for a slave to travel from Charlottesville to Washington DC undetected? ) to kiss & make up with "Thomas. "

In between all of these historical improbabilities, we are subjected to pontificating of the first order. Nothing kills romance faster than speechifying. It ends up being a lose-lose situation: bad history combined with some deadly-dull romance. Ugh! Once it became clear where this was going (in the first 30 minutes, really), I should have quit while I was ahead.