THE FOLLOWING STORY IS TRUE...
If you've read my review of The Hurricane, you know I threw a major hissy fit over the manner in which it distorts many of the events it portrays. I often feel in such cases it would be appropriate to state at the beginning of the film,"The following story is true. The facts have been changed to mislead the innocent." Unfortunately, not everyone views the issue in the same light as I do. Film critic Roger Ebert, in his book Questions for the Movie Answer Man, summarizes the opposing view in his answer to a reader's question regarding the film Nixon:
Q: ...One thing that particularly annoyed me... was the commentary of Nixon's biographer. He seemed to believe that any filmmaker who addresses a historical subject should be compelled to make a documentary. Nixon is not a documentary... I'm not sure why so many people believe [Oliver] Stone should be a historian first and a filmmaker second.
A: Agreed. Nixon, like any movie biography (from Patton to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) is a work of the imagination, an attempt by an artist to understand his subject. I am particularly impatient with Stone's critics who say,"But what about all the people who will believe this is the truth?" My answer is: If they're that impressionable, they (a) probably won't be interested in the movie in the first place, and (b) they must bear responsibility for informing themselves. Nixon is psychological and artistic opinion in a work of fiction, and any adult should be sophisticated enough to view and evaluate it on that basis. That is what an education is for.
Let me point out immediately that I don't know what Ebert's reaction to The Hurricane was, or whether he feels it falls into the category of "any movie biography". Reading his words above, I assume they would apply equally to The Hurricane. But let's forget about that movie for a minute and deal with this issue in general terms. Ebert implies "impressionable" people probably won't attend movies dealing with sophisticated subject matter (presumably because they're all in the theater next door watching cars explode). Its condescending attitude aside, I think the notion is also mistaken. Let's face it, we're all impressionable to some extent. We form concepts of historical events based on the information made available to us, and the film medium is undeniably one of the major sources of available information.
Which brings us to the second part of Ebert's argument - moviegoers must be responsible for informing themselves when the film is lying to them (sort of a "let the buyer beware" approach). So I take it this means it's perfectly okay for movies to completely misrepresent individuals and events. Does this mean it's perfectly okay for Peter Jennings and Tom Brokaw to do the same? "Of course not," whines the clueless college boy. "Movies are entertainment, while those other guys represent the news media." So why do movies feel compelled to inform us they're "based on a true story" if they don't expect the viewer to believe they're portraying true events. Why make a film which purports to detail the story of "Hurricane" Carter and then turn it into fiction? Why not just start out by calling your lead character "Joe Jones" and make no pretenses of truth? Because the filmmakers do expect you to believe them.
The argument that filmmakers "aren't making a documentary" is the classic crutch of the lazy screenwriter. Few people would object to tweaking the order or timeframe of true events in order to better present them within the confines of a two-hour movie. Likewise, having a character speak words which he never actually spoke but which accurately reflect his inner thoughts is often a necessity of the film medium. But screenwriters (the inferior ones) have a bad habit of deliberately misrepresenting a character or event just to enhance the conflict in their story. My reaction to this is if it's truly necessary to lie to make your story interesting, you don't have a story worth filming to begin with.
An example is in order. In Shine, writer/director Scott Hicks portrays David's father as being bitterly opposed to his piano recitals, almost to the point of child abuse. In reality, David's father encouraged him at every opportunity. Now doesn't he have the right to be accurately portrayed before the eyes of millions of viewers? How would you feel if the only way people around the world knew you was as a mule-headed jerk who cruelly held back your son's chance at brilliance? And how would you feel if that perception was a complete lie? To those of you who say I should have done my own research (a ridiculous notion in its own right), I reply that I didn't really need to. The father/son conflict is an overly familiar plot device to anyone who has ever taken a course in film or literature, and the clumsy way it was executed in Shine made it glaringly obvious it was a fabrication. I just ignored it and enjoyed the rest of the movie. But that doesn't change the fact that Hicks felt he had the right to defame another person in the interest of his story. To Hicks, David's father is no longer a human being, but instead just a chess piece to maneuver as he sees fit. And Hicks' actions are also degrading to David's genuine accomplishments, since he obviously felt they weren't exceptional enough without being artificially enhanced.
Which leads us to the moviegoers who parrot the "it's a film, not a documentary" argument. These people amuse me to no end. Basically, what they're saying is "Go ahead, lie to me. I love it". Presumably, they enjoy it when politicians and car salesmen lie to them also. It's bad enough when filmmakers make such a weak statement in a self-serving effort to cover their laziness or lack of skill, but when members of the public pick up the chorus because it makes them feel enlightened... well, I guess it proves once again that films really do get the fans they deserve.
I know what you're thinking, punk. This guy must absolutely loathe Oliver Stone's JFK. Well, um, no, actually. In fact, I consider it a masterpiece - one of my all-time favorite films. The difference is the film makes it crystal clear early on that it's an alternative hypothesis to the Warren Report. Virtually every reconstructed scene is put into context with what it means in terms of the official version of the story. Contrary to what various members of the media have claimed, it never pretends to show us a singular, undisputed version of the events. Had The Hurricane adopted this tack, it would have been a much better movie. The catch is that it would have had to truthfully present the official version of the events, then present credible evidence as to why this version was false. Instead, it all but ignores the evidence presented at the two trials, and pretends its own slanted view of the events is the undisputed truth. In short, the film lies to us. Big time.
