Whether recreating a monumental event or reanimating a historical figure on screen, history films offer a tantalizing prospect: truth. It’s alluring to believe that film is the closest thing to authentically experiencing history; that by watching we might gain a clear understanding of something once opaque.
This is a fallacy.
There are two obvious reasons why history films can’t achieve perfect realism. First, there are simply limits to what is known about our history. Second, considerations for runtimes limit the accuracy that can be achieved in film. And that’s okay.
As much as one might enjoy a history film that’s entirely accurate, film is a deeply subjective art form and should not bear the responsibility of delineating history exactly as it occurred. There’s no need to police the craft as long as it’s engaged in with moral intentions. These restrictions not only diminish the expression of the filmmaker but severely limit the kinds of stories that can be told.
“Napoleon” exemplifies how film can be used to put an artistic spin on history. The film takes place over 28 years, chronicling Napoleon Bonaparte’s rise and fall from power.
“Napoleon” has the small discrepancies typical of a history film. For example, Bonaparte was 35 when he became Emperor while actor Joaquin Phoenix was 48, but the omission of crucial events and fabrication of others veers the movie into a category of downright fiction. The film leaves out important moments in Bonaparte’s story — like the creation of the Napoleonic code — and the crux of a dramatic moment in the film is entirely invented.
“Napoleon” alters history so much that it can hardly be considered a biopic, but it doesn’t seem like that was director Ridley Scott’s intention anyway. With grandiose battles and a cartoonish performance by Phoenix, the film doesn’t depict Bonaparte as the person he was but rather as the larger-than-life figure he’s remembered to be. Reminiscent of Greek myths like the “Iliad,” “Napoleon” draws from the history books and our cultural consciousness to create something entirely original.
“Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood” takes the concept of historical fiction to a whole new level. Set in Los Angeles in 1969, the film follows movie star Rick Dalton, his stuntman Cliff Booth and actress Sharon Tate. The infamous Manson family plans to murder Tate, but Dalton and Booth unwittingly intervene, which prevents the tragedy from occurring.
But Dalton and Booth never existed. In reality, Tate and her four houseguests were murdered by the Manson family.
The Tate Murders could be seen as the catalyst for a marked shift in America’s cultural identity. The devilish and cult-like nature of the killings shocked the nation, ushering in an era of fear and a fascination with the macabre. The tragedy’s position on the cusp of the 70s calls to mind the sharp contrast between the two decades. While the 60s were a period of optimism and determination, the 70s were a period of paranoia and disillusion.
Understanding the zeitgeist surrounding the Tate Murders gives essential context to the director’s choice. Quentin Tarantino rejects the cultural shift of the 70s, instead imagining an alternate reality in which Sharon Tate lives — and with it a more innocent version of America. Where a traditional history film might have depicted the murders and reflected on the darkness to come, Tarantino’s unconventional approach shifts the conversation, elegizing a brighter period in our nation’s history.
Films like “Napoleon” and “Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood” demonstrate how straying from history can be used to transformative effect. Still, it’s essential to remember the ethical responsibilities that films like these must uphold.
The Disney animated film “Pocahontas” exemplifies the line between artistic interpretation and harmful misinformation. In the film, colonists from the Old World make landfall in the New World near the Powhatan Tribe. Soon afterward, conflict erupts between the Powhatans and the colonists, but Pocahontas convinces the two groups to make peace and live together in harmony.
Reality is a bit different.
While Pocahontas did play a role in negotiating peace between the Powhatans and the colonists, it was not of her own accord. During the First Anglo-Powhatan War, Pocahontas was captured by the colonists and forced to marry their leader John Rolfe as leverage. Her father Chief Powhatan approved the marriage, ending the war.
The principle of artistically rendering history itself isn’t harmful, but it’s important to portray sensitive topics like colonialism with respect for the real-world impact that they had. Where “Pocahontas” goes wrong is equitably distributing blame for the conflict to both the colonists and the Powhatans. Films like “Pocahontas” have an ethical responsibility to avoid reinforcing problematic ideas, and unfortunately this film placates Western audiences uncomfortable with recognizing their ancestors’ transgressions.
If it isn’t clear by now, audiences shouldn’t be looking to history films for their education.
Whether altering history with artistic purpose, unethical intentions or simply out of circumstance these movies can get a lot wrong. But the onus of informing audiences isn’t on the movie — it’s on the audience.
Viewers need to shift their perspective when watching history films, understanding that they’re not a reflection of history but a refraction based on the subjective interpretation of the artist. Developing these media literacy skills will help audiences distinguish between fact and fiction and further appreciate the artistry behind history films.
Drew Askeland is an Arts & Entertainment Staff Writer. He can be reached at daskelan@uci.edu.
Edited by Trista Lara.