Fantastical disaster and war movies aside, Hollywood does not often do serious history. Despite the many dramatic storylines it might provide, it’s always a turn-off to have to limit the number of explosions you can have, and for calmer dramas the realness of characters puts perhaps an undue restriction on scriptwriters.
When Hollywood does history it tends to take it over rather than present it — using the historical basis merely for a convenient attention grab and simplistic protagonist/antagonist plot. Historical films rarely live up to their potential; thus viewers who went to “Pearl Harbor” for a serious reflection on the event that started WWII were instead treated with a painfully sappy and poorly acted romance that, to top it off, starred Ben Affleck.
However, when films do deal with history in a serious or unusual way, the rare event can shed much light on deeper undercurrents in society, even when presented as mindless entertainment.
Fortunately, the recently released “United 93” is a movie that does history well and without any mindlessness whatsoever. Without flashbacks, narrative voice-over, or any addition to the events unfolding before the camera, “United 93” is presented as history on film — it is a faithful representation of the events of that day; at least as faithful as can be made considering the limited source material.
Some have suggested that it was too early to make any sort of film out of Sept. 11 — but “United 93” is exactly the type of film that can be made at such an early point. Films made about events decades or centuries removed are usually interpretive pieces — they take an aspect of the historical event and shape it to make a particular point about its well-known consequences. “United 93,” however, by depicting events that happened a mere five years ago, does not reflect on anything. We’re still in the midst of the fallout of Sept. 11, and there’s no space to step back and try to make an interpretive statement on film.
It will be interesting to contrast “United 93” with “The Da Vinci Code,” which came out May 19. “The Da Vinci Code,” as a book, cannot even count as historical fiction — it’s more like fictional history. Nevertheless, the crowds will be drawn to the theater not because “The Da Vinci Code” was a great book and will make a great film, but because of the central thesis of “The Da Vinci Code” — that the entire history of Christianity has been a fraud, and the true history of the Catholic church is one of perpetual corruption. Without that radical proposition, “The Da Vinci Code” would have been an unremarkable mystery novel, gathering no more attention than any other.
In that sense, “The Da Vinci Code” is a historical film in the same way that “The Passion of the Christ” was a historical film. The immense reaction to both works reflects a strong and significant historical current — our modern society’s continuing fluctuations in attempting to understand the role of religion in our lives.
That the Catholic church considers the book and film to be a result of ignorance and malice toward the church is reflective of the concern over how many people actually take “The Da Vinci Code” and its alternative history to heart. Although the book has always been labeled fiction, readers are clearly carrying it further when international tours across Europe take visitors to see sights where nothing happened and monuments that were never mysterious.
Still, some might go to see “The Da Vinci Code” to be entertained — but they nevertheless will be feasting on a plot that subtly manipulates centuries of anti-Catholicism in Anglo-Saxon culture, as well as participating in the new enthusiasm for what can aptly be called “New Age Christianity,” where Jesus is made less orthodox and entirely more approachable considering he, too, got laid now and then.
Yet another species of the semi-historical film, “National Treasure,” differs greatly from the comparatively serious “The Da Vinci Code.” “National Treasure” merely plasters historical facts and figures onto a preconceived storyline (ironically, one clearly inspired by the dynamics of “The Da Vinci Code”) to add color to its suspense. Many claim this shape-shifting of clear historical facts is harmless, and that viewers are perfectly aware that the founding fathers were not part of an international Freemason conspiracy to hide the greatest treasure known to man.
It is true that those who saw “National Treasure” when it was released probably did not so easily confuse history and entertainment — however, there will most likely be a long-term effect. As the plot line itself becomes removed from its source — the film — such ideas will slip into the general public indirectly. You could easily hear a young man claiming, a few decades from now, that all the founders were Freemasons (an idea fed by the fact that many were) and that they all hid a special treasure from the British. He probably wouldn’t remember exactly where he got the idea, but he would be pretty sure it was true.
Will such similar fact-twisting be condoned decades from now with such events as Sept. 11? After all, the founders of a nation would conceivably be figures a society would want to depict accurately and favorably — and yet our founders were, in fact, manipulated almost as soon as they died.
Yet these manipulations usually had a deeper cultural purpose, and even a film as apparently trivial as “National Treasure” actually does have something significant to say about American history. The fact that a “Freemason conspiracy” plot could fly in the first place is indicative not only of America’s past and continuing suspicion of its own government, but its deep speculation that the elite people of the nation are not content simply being rich and privileged, but have to be up to something much larger.
So where does that leave Hollywood in regard to history? Does it have an ethical obligation to not manipulate and mold the past too much to its advantage? Or is history, like any other cultural product, fair game for entertainment?
Do we like our national myths, such as Paul Revere’s ride (a measly 19-mile journey) and the poetic representation of Washington crossing the Delaware? Or would we prefer to be very distinct and very precise about names, places and dates?
Whatever we believe, it unfortunately is not our choice in the end — myths propagate themselves, legends are born and thrive, and people will always believe false history because each social interest in society uses history in its own way. While “United 93” avoids these pitfalls, it is merely a matter of time before future filmmakers are bolder and more biased with their presentations of Sept. 11.
When those films appear, their propriety and purpose will be debated and pontificated on plenty, just as “The Da Vinci Code” is inspiring discussions on Catholicism and ancient Christianity. The straightforward style of “United 93” indicates an inability, and unwillingness, to open such a debate on Sept. 11 at this early point — until the Iraq war has cooled considerably or major changes have taken place in the Middle East, we won’t really begin to see the major cultural manipulations of Sept. 11.
And while there will always be strict historians ready to point out factual errors and misrepresentations in historical film, the discussion such films spur can bring history out of the cupboard and into popular culture. In fact, while being stingy about what belongs under the title “historical” will keep us more clear about what happened yesterday, remaining open to the influences, signs and symbols in historical fiction — or fictional history — will tell us much more about ourselves today.
