The Enhancement of History through Film: How Gangs of New York, The Alamo, and Dances with Wolves Enrich the Historical Perspective

Historical films have recently become the topic for much discourse and debate among historians in all topics and fields. Naturally, there are many aspects of the historical film that must be considered when analyzing their ability to recreate the past on the screen. On the surface it would seem that many factors would prevent accurate depictions of the past. However, historians such as Robert B. Toplin and Robert Rosenstone have pointed out that the fallibility, imprecision, or bias of film is not unlike the professional field of historical study. In order to resonate with modern audiences, film of this genre typically must attract viewers by employing narratives that include larger than life characters, conflicts clearly defined by cultural moral absolutes, and broad themes wrapped in sentiment to remain relevant to the viewer.

These historical pictures are staples of the Hollywood industry often winning critical acclaim. While there are films that break the conventional rules of Hollywood, few are successful and the risk involved in making a historic piece is staggering (Toplin, 114). So it must be understood that the primary objective of any film is its profitability. The bottom-line of production companies underscores the objectivity that is required for any story to contain Rosenstone calls “literal” truth (Rosenstone, 76). Instead of criticizing the nonobjective nature of historic film, both Toplin and Rosenstone praise the historic film for mustering attention for historical topics. For the purposes of this essay, focus will not be placed on historical anachronisms of film. Instead attention will be given to how historical films can minimize hagiography and presentism as well as make example of these tendencies in an effort to show how the dramatic quality of film can capture audiences but never achieve historical perfection in several films: Dances with Wolves, Gangs of New York, and the most recent version of The Alamo.

Hagiography, the elevation of past characters to mythic status, is not unique to film. Rosenstone notes that written history is not “itself something solid and unproblematic” (Rosenstone, 49). Myth and legend are intricate parts of pre-literate ideology but even in the 20^th century figures are iconized as larger than life (Hitler or Gandhi, just for example). The earliest historical biopic films of the 1920s and 1930s sought to characterize individuals as heroic while America was searching for a leader. The best example, from the above mentioned films, of a “mover and shaker” is the portrayal of Davy Crockett in John Lee Hancock’s The Alamo (2004). The tall tales of the Tennessean belongs in the ranks of Paul Bunyan or Johnny Appleseed but this film depicts a Davy Crockett that is struggling to live up to his own reputation. The wild frontiersman of the theatre is shown attempting to shoot Santa Anna from some distance. Mexican officials, aware of the presence in the mission of the folk-hero, warn their general but to the tejano’s surprise Crockett’s aim is shaky. The great man of history method commonly applies to of the heroes of the Texas Revolution, or any other revolution for that matter, but credit must be given to the directors for showing the vulnerability and the unspectacular humanity of these men when Crockett admits “If it was just me, simple old David from Tennessee, I might drop over that wall... But that Davy Crockett feller, they're all watchin' him.” This is a far cry from the progressive era depiction of the Alamo filled with bias, historical error, and racism.

The acclaimed Dances with Wolves (1990) is easily the most romantic of these films. With its picturesque and rugged setting and backed by an exquisite musical score, Kevin Costner’s star/directed blockbuster uses fiction to reconstruct a glimpse into controversial period in American history. While the three hour epic never mentions topics such as manifest destiny or the infamous trail of tears, a portrait of Anglo western expansion and injustice towards natives is proudly presented. Of course, these concepts are crystal clear to Lieutenant John Dunbar (Costner) who has gone native, so to speak, and whose character is one of the only redeeming qualities of the white race in the film. This presentism, or applying present notions of morals to the past, is no doubt skewed to cast a villainous shadow on the Soldiers of the film while shining a bright beacon of innocence on the Lakota.

In the case of Dances with Wolves two key observations can be made about the narrative. The first is positive, the experience of natives in the historiography of the American frontier has until recently been very negative. Dances with Wolves contradicts the notion of blood thirsty savages (etc.) that have become all too popular in our culture and perhaps correctly illustrates the so-called “real story” of the American West. Thus, Dances with Wolves enriches the history of this topic and seeking to set the record straight, so to speak. On the other hand, the victimization of the Lakota in the film is critical to the conflict of the story. The vile and murderous troops that are hunting the Lakota tribe during the final scene leave the viewer with the impression that the stalking soldiers are immoral. For fairness sake, the ideologies and beliefs of both groups ought to be examined to fully understand the events of this era, both whites and Indians. However, without this moral absolute the dramatic effect and the sympathy gained by the protagonist are lost. It must be remembered that this is the purpose of film. Rosenstone on the importance of empathy in drama states, “the special capabilities of the medium… intensify the feelings of an audience” (Rosenstone, 59). Dances with Wolves is a good example of a historical film that fails to present history in a professional fashion although it almost attempts a proper revision of history.

Martin Scorsese’s Gangs of New York (2002) is easily is by far the most complicated film in this discussion. Scorsese’s elaborate set designs bring civil-war era New York to life giving Scorsese the freedom to “invent characters and incidents” in order to dramatize his film (Rosenstone, 60). Expert acting and costume also support this process. The characters are so large that they often seem god-like, especially in the case of Bill “The Butcher” Cutting who controls the neighborhood of five points with “the spectacle of fearsome acts” and whose mannerisms along with his patriotic glass eye steal every scene, even that of his own demise. Cutting is, however, a fictional character given liberties that through is convincing acting urge the viewer to believe the story. This does not elevate the status of a real individual, as in the case of the legends of the heroes of the Alamo, but instead gives dramatization to the historical background of the New York Draft Riots of 1863.

The moralities of the Gangs of New York are, in contrast to Dances with Wolves, strikingly complex. The war between the Natives and Immigrants both set the stage for the plot and finalizes the conflict. This war, within the riots, and furthermore against the backdrop of the civil war is a rare example of how a piece of filmic fiction can give insight into broad ideas about an era, in this case, the 1850s and 1860s, as well as develop a fictional epoch in which to insert dramatic action and engage audiences. There are no moral absolutes in this film, at least among the main characters. While any viewer could take a side, the parties involved are revealed to be both good and evil. The Irish Immigrants and Natives are both thieves, the heroic Vallon is filled with “murderous rage”, and the dastardly antagonist is left defenseless in the most emotional scene of the movie in which he admits to the young Amsterdam Vallon, who is plotting to kill him, that he is the son that he never had. Scorsese makes his film so real that audiences are transported to another time, albeit fictional, and allows the viewer to develop historical interpretations, also out of fiction, by avoiding inaccurate depictions of real-life individuals and obscuring any chance for presentism with the complexity of the characters.

Thus, in regards to fiction or accuracy, both are able to portray history in quasi-realistic terms. The objectivity that historical accuracy requires is difficult to achieve in film but when examined carefully even inaccuracies can still be effective to learning. The Alamo attempts accuracy but what is more critical to understanding the film is the role of Davy Crockett coming to terms with his own folk-legend. Dances with Wolves cast modern notions of morality onto the past to instill the empathy of the audience on the Lakota. And Gangs of New York makes fiction seem literal with its complicated characters and raw drama set in a visually accurate historical background. The fact is that none of these films are precise pieces of history but all three are exemplary of the problems that filmmakers face when portraying the past and how the medium of film can enhance historical perspective.