Um vonda sagnfræði í kvikmyndum
Tuesday, January 6th, 2009Hérna er viðtal við Ray Raphael, höfund bókarinnar Founding Myths sem ég er nýbúinn að lesa. Þarna kemur fram, sem er svo rætt ítarlegar í bókinni, hversu illa The Patriot, kvikmynd Mels Gibsons, kemur heim og saman við sögulegar staðreyndir.
„First, George Washington regarded the presence of slaves in the Continental Army as a total embarrassment, and he did everything in his power to keep them out. One week after assuming command, he ordered that no “stroller, negro, or vagabond” be allowed to enlist. The British Army was much more welcoming. Four months after Washington’s decree, the royal governor of Virginia, Lord Dunmore, offered freedom to all slaves who left their masters and fought against the patriots. Over the course of the war, tens of thousands of slaves fled to the British in search of their freedom, including at least 20 men and women enslaved to George Washington. […]
The worst myth propagated in The Patriot is that slaves were so devoted to their masters that they would risk their lives on the battlefield. The truth is, slaves tried to use the Revolutionary War in whatever way they could to gain their own freedom. A few enslaved African-Americans in the North managed to bargain for their freedom by fighting for the patriots; a vastly greater number in the South thought their prospects were better with the British.“
Og til þess höggva nú rækilega í sama knérunn er rétt að rifja upp í leiðinni greinaflokk The Guardian um sögulegar kvikmyndir þar sem Braveheart fær sérlega vonda einkunn sem er m.a. rökstutt með eftirfarandi dæmum:
„Edward I expresses a desire to enforce high taxes on the rich. Apparently, in Gibson’s world, this makes him evil. In case you need even more evidence, on a whim he reinstates ius primae noctis, allowing English nobles to interrupt Scottish weddings and shag the bride. Not only fictional, but profoundly ridiculous. […]
Wallace falls for a local girl from a neighbouring hut. She has the perfect teeth so typical of Scottish peasants in the 13th century. He is surprised to find out that she can’t read. The audience is not so surprised, because she is supposed to be a 13th century peasant and lives in a hut. And then the big ponce starts trying to talk to her in French. […]
After his lady love is murdered by the English, Wallace pretends to surrender. At the last minute, he whips out a concealed nunchaku. Wait, what? Glossing over its implication that medieval Scotland imported arms from China, Wallace’s rebellion gathers pace at the Battle of Stirling Bridge, which the film has inexplicably set in a field. Rather than, you know, on a bridge. For pity’s sake. The clue’s in the name.“
