The Historical Film: A Staple of Cinema

By Freddie Harrison, 1st Year History

I defy you to walk into your local Vue or Odeon (or Everyman, if you’re one of them), look at the titles and posters and try not to spot a soldier, a prince, a queen, a peasant or a president. It is simply impossible. There has always been, and will always be, a human fixation on the past. It is a natural impulse whenever we learn something historically interesting to tell that story to whoever will listen. Think about that relative who regurgitates In Our Time at the dinner table or your history mate who spouts dates, battles and events at you, like one of those particularly aggressive sprinklers.

When filmmakers get this same itch, it can produce varied results. From the highs of Lincoln (2013) to the lows of Napoleon (2023), I embarked on a noble quest studying the good, the bad and the ugly of this genre to answer the question: what makes a good historical film, and why do so many people get it so wrong?

The answer came in three leading factors that, while not definitive, tended to be the key dividers between quality and calamity, as well as playing a distinctive role in the historical film genre.

Sub-genre was the first issue that appeared during my historical cinema beauty pageant, here defined as the stylistic choices the director makes to spin their historical yarn. The best example I can offer is The Death of Stalin (2017). Whilst the style of a dark comedy was hardly surprising from The Thick of It (2005) creator Armando Iannucci, one can imagine a myriad of ways that the death of the Soviet dictator may be portrayed: a brooding drama Chernobyl-style; a goofy, saturated swing-and-a-miss comedy or a deeply moving tearjerker – which would require some interesting political views, of course. Yet the style Iannucci decided to take perfectly sums up the unbelievable functions of Soviet hierarchy, thus making a cracking piece of historiography and an incredible piece of cinema.

The Death of Stalin (2017) (Credit: Sundance Film Festival)

There are antagonists to this, of course, films such as Pearl Harbour (2001) or The Conqueror (1956) that both take a romantic angle at some pretty loveless history: the worst attacks on the US military in history, and the rise of a famously unpleasant man – Genghis Khan (played by John Wayne, and filmed near a nuclear test site...the good old days). Attempting to slot styles into history that don’t comply is a classic square peg, round hole situation. It simply doesn’t fit, and tends to lead to confusion, missing the mark and pretty naff historical cinema. Take notes, Mr Michael Bay.

A second factor that ought to be addressed is a seemingly obvious one: care. History is powerful, and attempting to adapt it comes with great responsibility, without wanting to sound like Uncle Ben (not the rice one). Historical films can only be successful when filmmakers come to terms with this burden and allow it to shape their project, rather than shirk it. Care tended to divide historical films into ‘sheep’ and ‘shepherd’ categories. Let me explain, after a carefully, meticulously and – therefore – acclaimed historical film graces the silver screen, within a few years, herds of ‘sheep’ films tend to crop up attempting to graze on the field of commercial success.

Take Gladiator (2000), written by David Franzoni after reading a book on gladiator culture which led him down a detailed path of research, including reading “the Historia Augusta”, a famous collection of Roman biographies, among many other sources. And whilst the story of Gladiator is fictional, the immersive nature, accurate figures, and events I would argue award it the title of ‘historical film’, according to the Oxford Dictionary of Film Studies definition.  Of course, we all know the outcome of this care and attention taken by Franzoni.

Gladiator (2000) (Credit: IMDB)

This global acclaim, popularity and – of course – revenue, led to the emergence of ‘sheep’ films. Alexander (2005). Kingdom of Heaven (2005). The Eagle (2011). Each one follows the Gladiator formula: tall, dark, and handsome lead; epic mythologised battles; and sweeping, dramatic scores. Yet none could make anywhere near the dent that Gladiator could make. I would argue this is simply due to the painstaking care that ‘shepherd’ films endure and the lethargic nature of the ‘sheep.’ Insert an ‘Are you not entertained?’ joke here.

Finally, onto the most difficult instalment of the trilogy – historical accuracy. There is a faint line between historical films and films set in the past, with many movies tentatively toeing it: Gladiator, Braveheart (1995), Titanic (1998), the list (like the heart) goes on. So, considering this, is there a ‘Goldilocks zone’ of historical accuracy that can marry both entertainment and truth in a loving union? In short, no.

Titanic (1998) (Credit: IMDB)

No set degree works for every adaptation of the past; it shifts with context. Schindler’s List (1994) has an incredibly sensitive and harrowing subject matter requiring a brutal amount of accuracy. In fact, I would argue this is what provides Spielberg's masterpiece the punch it packs. No gloss, just heartbreaking truth. Other examples suit the scales tipping in another direction. Mel Gibson’s aforementioned Braveheart was famously, hilariously inaccurate, but it snagged Best Picture (over the much more accurate Apollo 13 in 1995). Braveheart shed new light on a relatively ignored patch of history – so much so it invigorated calls for Scottish independence after its 1995 release, and is often credited for playing a role in the Blair Government promising a devolution referendum on their 1997 manifesto, as well as the subsequent vote in favour of the proposal. Therefore, historical accuracy must be applied to the topic. It is filmmakers who grasp this and understand the relationship their storytelling plays with accuracy that tend to produce the best results.

To reflect, in the broad world of the historical film, there is, much like history itself – lots of good, and lots of bad. But, after skyrocketing my daily screen time, the presence of suitable sub-genre, care and contextual historical accuracy always led to an enjoyable cinematic and historical experience, which was usually reinforced by an Oscar or two. Without them, it was a Titanic disaster. Roll the credits.

Edited by Charlotte Wyatt