History Goes to the Movies : A Viewer's Guide to the Best (and Some of the Worst) Historical Films Ever Made by Joseph H. Roquemore

350 movies analyzed. 150 historical events covered by movies.

Review by Ben M. Wolk

Before proceeding with this review, I'm going to register a personal complaint: Joseph Roquemore stole my idea. Long before coming upon his History Goes to the Movies in a catalog, it had been my ambition to write precisely this book. By what form of osmosis Rocquemore picked my brain, I can't imagine. I am, however, glad he did, because his work is far better than mine promised to be -- better, too, than other similar books on the market, such as the pretentiously academic Past Imperfect. It is, in fact, a monumentally ambitious work that is as informative as it is entertaining, and as well-written as it informative.

Roquemore recognizes that historical films, far from being mere entertainment, are a potent force in molding public perception of past events and, by extension, contemporary society. "...they're not just movies," he states in his preface, and throughout his book he endeavors to counter the "blatant disdain...for solid, reliable history."

Roquemore's approach is simple. He presents a brief essay -- the longest run about two pages; some are half-a-page -- to serve as a tapestry against which the movies can be discussed. Thus, his piece on the Roman Empire acts as background for six different films. (In some instances, it's one essay/one movie.) He follows this with the movie reviews: 314 total, ranging from pre-history (Quest for Fire, which conjectures on the daily lives of our animal-skin-wearing ancestors) to the first Gulf War. His canvass is broad, ranging from sword-and-sandal war epics to period romances. He even includes one documentary: Woodstock.

The essays are uniformly excellent; I hesitate even to call them "essays," denoting as that does something far duller than Roquemore offers. They are, in fact, micro-histories: concise, informative, vigorous, and witty; peppered with revealing anecdotes and surprising bits of trivia. (My favorite line: "JFK makes Cinderella look like a BBC documentary.") Roquemore's prose is not only entertaining but sure-footed and professional, as one should expect from a speechwriter and communications director with a doctorate in English literature -- according to the book's back cover.

Another of Roquemore's refreshing traits is a refusal to be "objective." I mean by this, not a disregard for facts, but a disregard for the academic notion that the historian/critic should pass no moral judgment on the subject he presents. This of course is nonsense: there has never been an objective critic, and those who claim to be so (or think themselves so) are indulging in self-delusion.

Roquemore, as the publisher aptly puts it, is "bracingly opinionated." More simply, he calls 'em like he sees 'em. Oliver Stone's Nixon is "historical biography at its very worst." The 1993 remake of Shadowlands he calls "a gloomy dirge," while The Ten Commandments is "Entertaining -- but slim pickings for history buffs," and Steven Spielberg's Empire of the Sun ranks as "a potboiler all the way." There are no sacred cows here; Rocquemore never fears to take on even the most respected and "untouchable" films: Schindler's List, Mississippi Burning, Citizen Kane, Michael Collins, Titanic, and even Gandhi ("a propaganda debacle of the first rank") all endure heavy criticism. I should add that his critiques are more substantive and better-documented than my out-of-context quoting indicates.

Conversely, Roquemore doesn't stint on praise where he thinks it's due, and a number of movies -- well-known and obscure -- win his applause. Braveheart is "a sweeping biography" and "a terrific film;" Conagher "matches -- or tops -- Hollywood's best westerns;" and Tora! Tora! Tora! is "dynamite...guaranteed to knock your socks off."

Roquemore also deserves praise for not playing favorites: he judges on merit rather than personal likes or dislikes, and it's not rare to find him praising the factual fidelity of an actor's performance in one film and excoriating the same person a few pages later. One never gets the sense that he criticizes a movie or director or actor simply because he doesn't care for them or their previous work.

For all their high caliber, Roquemore's essays do slip on occasion. In his piece on medieval freedom-fighter William Wallace, for instance, he states that Wallace's comrade Andrew de Moray "died in the field at Stirling." It's true that Moray vanishes from the historical record shortly after the battle of Stirling Bridge, but no reliable evidence corroborates a battlefield death. In fact, there is an extant letter that post-dates Stirling on which both Wallace and Moray appear as signers.

More significantly, Roquemore is sometimes blinded by his enthusiasm -- or his irritation. His piece on the Reformation-era theologian and politician Sir Thomas More is one long commendation: More is described as a model of conscience, good-will, forbearance, and high-minded idealism. That More possessed all these qualities is undeniable; but in his awe, Roquemore fails to mention that More was also a zealot who vigorously persecuted religious dissenters, among them the courageous Bible translator William Tyndale. (There is, incidentally, a very fine movie about Tyndale, God's Outlaw, which Roquemore does not include.)

Similarly, many people will take exception to Roquemore's favorable view of Richard Nixon. He does an admirable job of dispelling myths about Nixon (i.e. that he was a drunkard, a "trashmouth," and so on) and also of putting into perspective his foreign policy achievements. But, as with More, he glosses over or ignores Nixon's many shortcomings: his failed economic policies and his desperate, deceit-riddled grasp to stay in power.

Roquemore can be unfair, especially in his judgments of the movies themselves. He describes Anthony Hopkins's portrayal of C.S. Lewis in the 1993 Shadowlands as "dull" and "sullen." I agree that Hopkins failed to capture Lewis's personality (especially when judged against Joss Ackland in an earlier version of Shadowlands), but his performance is neither dull nor sullen; in fact, he seems rather to enjoy himself.

And sometimes Roquemore is simply irrelevant: in his review of Gettysburg -- a "made-for-TV potboiler" -- he goes so far as to criticize the "pompous" musical score. Pompous or not (personally I consider it a terrific score, and I know a number of people who agree), what does it have to do with the film's historical value? On a similar note, Roquemore mentions that Braveheart (which he likes) won four Oscars, but fails to mention that Dances With Wolves (which he doesn't like) won nine. (I also like Braveheart and dislike Dances With Wolves, but you see the point.)

All of which, I hasten to add, is trivial nitpicking in the grand scheme of Roquemore's book. No doubt, every reader will find something to disagree with in History Goes to the Movies -- I did myself -- but it is still, for all its small faults, the most exhaustive and authoritative work of its kind, educational, stimulating, and outright fun.

I'm toying with the idea of writing to Joseph Roquemore to ask him for a revised edition, or better yet, a Volume Two: History Goes Back to the Movies. Consider the slew of historical and period films that have appeared in the few years since Roquemore's book was published: Troy, Alexander, The Passion of the Christ, Gladiator, King Arthur, Luther, The Messenger, The Patriot, Master and Commander, The Alamo, Gods and Generals, Cold Mountain, Gangs of New York, The Last Samurai, The Missing, The Aviator, Pearl Harbor, Windtalkers, Band of Brothers, The Pianist, We Were Soldiers, The Manchurian Candidate remake, Black Hawk Down, Tears of the Sun...and this doesn't include upcoming features about Hannibal of Carthage, yet another Alexander the Great movie, plus Ridley Scott's Kingdom of Heaven, about the Third Crusade. Add to this any number of relevant films that Roquemore simply had no space for -- Kenneth Branagh's Henry V, the aforementioned God's Outlaw, Chariots of Fire (an excellent period piece/biopic), and some of the half-dozen Joan of Arc films on the market -- and you have all the makings of another book.

I would write it myself, but...