The Rape of Clio: Reconciling Art and History

Aside from the manner of her death, Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, Grand Duchess of Russia, should have no particular reason to stand out in the history of European royalty. But her extraordinary murder, combined with a string of confusing propaganda and poorly conducted investigations, opened the door for numerous impostors seeking to lay claim to the Romanov name and fortune. Indeed, Anna Anderson, as the most famous of these impostors came to be known, kept up her charade for years, through the press and even the German court system, until her death in 1984.

Enter Fox's spanking new Anastasia. Very roughly based on the real Anastasia Nikolaevna, Fox's young lady lives out a modern rags-to-riches Cinderella tale--whereas the real Anastasia was born in 1901 and murdered in 1918 along with the rest of her immediate family by the Bolsheviks in Yekaterinberg.

Like Disney's Pocahontas, Fox Studio's new animated release is therefore best described as a historical fantasy. A fun and beautifully illustrated film, if lacking an overarching stylistic cohesion, Anastasia is symptomatic of the problems that can arise when art and history meet.

An orgy of unsubtle Russophilia, the Fox production scarcely attempts to stick with even the broadest historical facts regarding the fate of the Romanov dynasty and Anastasia. The only part of the film that even attempts to ground itself in history is in a short opening prologue, occurring during an unmentioned First World War, one year after the Russian Revolution in 1916. Somehow, Anastasia, born in 1901, is only eight years old in 1916. With the help of a servant boy, Dmitri, Anastasia manages to escape from Rasputin and his revolutionaries, but falls off a train, hitting her head.

Suffering from amnesia about her pre-Revolutionary childhood, she is raised near Petrograd as an orphan named Anya, rather than being brutally murdered by the Bolsheviks. Indeed, the Fox flick barely mentions that neither Anastasia's parents nor siblings survived the Revolution. Running into a pair of con artists--who, in Fox's twist on history, are looking for an Anastasia impostor to claim the Romanov fortune--Anya leaves cold, miserable Russia and discovers her own identity as Anastasia as everything ends up happy in Paris.

So much for historical veracity.

But even so, Anastasia would seem a particularly welcome release. Along with Dreamworks' upcoming Prince of Egypt (the story of Moses!) and Warner Brothers' Camelot, Anastasia promises to break Disney's long-held hegemony over animated features. Unfortunately, Fox has made the mistake of attempting to make a Disneyesque film better than Disney and in doing so, has made the same, crucial mistake as Disney: substituting historical fantasy for pure fiction, as in Disney's Pocahontas. With such great creative minds at their disposal, Disney and Fox opened unnecessarily problematic territory when they entered into the realm of historically inspired art with the prime intention of creating a blockbuster.

There will always be difficulties in reconciling the discrepancies between artistic representation and historical veracity, since an inherent tension exists between these two media. Although both are members of the shape-shifting club known as the humanities, history is at its core about the interpretation of facts, whereas art, emphasizes foremost the conveyance of creative expression.

To be sure, history is hardly a pristine, purist endeavor. The historian can never completely recreate the past. But he can provide a snapshot or even a panorama of it. History is multi-directional--just as we influence history, so too does history influence us. This is not to deny a standard of historical veracity to which we should aspire. History is a "creative" field in that its purpose is to uncover creatively what occurred in the past, to the greatest degree of accuracy possible.

But a major distinction can be made among art works that utilize history. On the one hand there are art works that attempt to place themselves, regardless of genre and extent of revisionism, within the realm of historical discussion on a particular topic. On the other, there are those which make no attempt to enter the arena of debate and interpretation and merely use history as a convenient plot backdrop.

Consider the historical novels of James Michener, Gore Vidal and Hermann Wouk, or films such as Glory, about the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment during the American Civil War, and Oliver Stone's JFK. All of these works carry political messages, as do many academic works of history. But these messages are intimately bound to their historical vehicle. Glory, for example, could only work with its Civil War setting. Likewise, JFK, as outlandish as its interpretation of the Kennedy assassination may be, nevertheless attempts to participate in the historical dialogue and inquiry, through an unorthodox, non-academic medium.

Anastasia and Pocahontas, however, fail to fall within the basic parameters of historical dialogues on their subject. Commenting on Pocahontas, Douglas B. Rand '98, one of Harvard's veteran Disney watchdogs and self-styled Disneyologist, has observed, "Pocahontas is not even revisionist history. It is not even debating the legitimacy of our current historical paradigm, because Disney is not even entering the realm of debate. Whereas we can have a scholarly discourse on what lens we use to view reality, Disney is going so far afield that they are concocting their own reality."

In Pocahontas, Disney almost seems to be at pains to abandon the few facts that we do know about Pocahontas' life--she appears as a busty, English-speaking, environmentalist super-model, who is sweet on John Smith, but who nevertheless decides to remain in America with her people, respecting their ways. In real life, Pocahontas converted to Christianity, married English tobacco magnate John Rolf (who doesn't appear in the Disney version), moved to England and died there of smallpox.

The great pity of this is that Disney is such a master of pure fantasy--there is no need to get embroiled in historical fantasy. Disney has shown, time and again, that it can come up with a great story without needing a historical backdrop to provide a plot vehicle.

Here, though, the Fox studios did not approach the life of Anastasia with the primary intention of recasting history. Rather, they were only searching for the obligatory princess heroine that every animated flick features. Consider the vast range that have appeared in Disney's canon, from Snow White and Cinderella to Ariel, the princess under the sea, Pocahontas, the Indian princess, and Jasmine, the sultan's daughter, to name but a few. As Anya herself astutely observes, "I guess that every lonely girl hopes she's a princess." One can only imagine where this will lead--perhaps Disney's Diana, England's Rose or Fox's Camelot: The JFK Story.

Nor is this simply a matter of artistic genre. While Pocahontas and Anastasia provide two of the most glaring cases in recent years, non-animated films, such as Mel Gibson's Braveheart or Kirk Douglas' classic Spartacus are strewn with the same sort of historical problems, if perhaps to a lesser degree. Notably, these movies are also, first and foremost, dramatic vehicles.

The nature of the film industry itself tends to exacerbate the problem. Cinema is a particularly unique medium, in that it involves the collaborative creative efforts of large teams of people, not necessarily sharing the same artistic vision. What these disparate individuals can focus on, however, is a kernel of a story--a lost princess, in Anastasia, for example. When the emotional kernel of a story becomes the central, guiding principle, then historical veracity and the nuanced entirety of the story become disposable. This is unfortunate, as a true historical tale, with all its complexity and contradictions can be much more human, real and moving than a slick, cookie-cut Hollywood production.

It is, of course, very easy to bash large multi-million dollar Hollywood studio productions for abusing both history and art. The discrepancy between artistic representation and historical veracity is not new, however. Is there any essential difference between a Shakespeare play involving historical figures, such as Julius Caesar or Henry V, and a Disney or Fox production like Pocahontas or Anastasia?

Shakespeare, Disney and Fox all use history as a backdrop for a stock set of characters and a moral/political message. The primary interest is in the dramatic action and the message; the historical setting is merely a convenient agency. The historical figures are imbued with a symbolism and meaning that goes far beyond their actual personages and deeds. Instead, it reflects far more on the artist's own personality. The ultimate difference is whether the history is itself an integral part of the artistic message, such as in Glory or JFK, or if it is simply the vehicle of dramatic convenience, as it is for Shakespeare, Disney and Fox.

Shakespeare's treatment of history can be excused both by his time period and by his artistic merit. The practice (not to mention conception) of history was quite different in Shakespeare's time than our own. Even in "history" writing, very different standards were applied. Pocahontas and Anastasia, however, must answer to our own contemporary standards of historical veracity.

The conflict between art and history is not at all necessarily bad. It can be poorly resolved, as in Anastasia, but it can also be the wellspring of a tremendous amount of creativity. Artists who embroil themselves in history should ask themselves whether they are doing so to comment on the history or if the history is merely serving as a convenient dramatic vehicle, easing the creative burden.

One can argue that if the art, however, inaccurate, interests a few people in the history, then that is itself enough. True as this may be, it is merely an unwitting side-effect. A film like Glory was made with the express intent of drawing attention to the contribution of black soldiers to the Union Army war effort during the Civil War. The success of this endeavor was dependent on the movie being perceived as historically credible. Such can be said of neither Anastasia nor Pocahontas. For the handful of people whom they might interest in history, these movies create a legion of historically misinformed individuals.

Perhaps it is appropriate to note, in conclusion that Fox did take care to place, at the end of some of the longest titles I have ever seen, a disclaimer announcing that the film was just a huge historical fantasy and should not be taken as factual. But after a fun flick, who cares?Photo courtesy of Robert Speller & SonsSEVEN: The real Anastasia, seated far right

So much for historical veracity.

But even so, Anastasia would seem a particularly welcome release. Along with Dreamworks' upcoming Prince of Egypt (the story of Moses!) and Warner Brothers' Camelot, Anastasia promises to break Disney's long-held hegemony over animated features. Unfortunately, Fox has made the mistake of attempting to make a Disneyesque film better than Disney and in doing so, has made the same, crucial mistake as Disney: substituting historical fantasy for pure fiction, as in Disney's Pocahontas. With such great creative minds at their disposal, Disney and Fox opened unnecessarily problematic territory when they entered into the realm of historically inspired art with the prime intention of creating a blockbuster.

There will always be difficulties in reconciling the discrepancies between artistic representation and historical veracity, since an inherent tension exists between these two media. Although both are members of the shape-shifting club known as the humanities, history is at its core about the interpretation of facts, whereas art, emphasizes foremost the conveyance of creative expression.

To be sure, history is hardly a pristine, purist endeavor. The historian can never completely recreate the past. But he can provide a snapshot or even a panorama of it. History is multi-directional--just as we influence history, so too does history influence us. This is not to deny a standard of historical veracity to which we should aspire. History is a "creative" field in that its purpose is to uncover creatively what occurred in the past, to the greatest degree of accuracy possible.

But a major distinction can be made among art works that utilize history. On the one hand there are art works that attempt to place themselves, regardless of genre and extent of revisionism, within the realm of historical discussion on a particular topic. On the other, there are those which make no attempt to enter the arena of debate and interpretation and merely use history as a convenient plot backdrop.

Consider the historical novels of James Michener, Gore Vidal and Hermann Wouk, or films such as Glory, about the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment during the American Civil War, and Oliver Stone's JFK. All of these works carry political messages, as do many academic works of history. But these messages are intimately bound to their historical vehicle. Glory, for example, could only work with its Civil War setting. Likewise, JFK, as outlandish as its interpretation of the Kennedy assassination may be, nevertheless attempts to participate in the historical dialogue and inquiry, through an unorthodox, non-academic medium.

Anastasia and Pocahontas, however, fail to fall within the basic parameters of historical dialogues on their subject. Commenting on Pocahontas, Douglas B. Rand '98, one of Harvard's veteran Disney watchdogs and self-styled Disneyologist, has observed, "Pocahontas is not even revisionist history. It is not even debating the legitimacy of our current historical paradigm, because Disney is not even entering the realm of debate. Whereas we can have a scholarly discourse on what lens we use to view reality, Disney is going so far afield that they are concocting their own reality."

In Pocahontas, Disney almost seems to be at pains to abandon the few facts that we do know about Pocahontas' life--she appears as a busty, English-speaking, environmentalist super-model, who is sweet on John Smith, but who nevertheless decides to remain in America with her people, respecting their ways. In real life, Pocahontas converted to Christianity, married English tobacco magnate John Rolf (who doesn't appear in the Disney version), moved to England and died there of smallpox.

The great pity of this is that Disney is such a master of pure fantasy--there is no need to get embroiled in historical fantasy. Disney has shown, time and again, that it can come up with a great story without needing a historical backdrop to provide a plot vehicle.

Here, though, the Fox studios did not approach the life of Anastasia with the primary intention of recasting history. Rather, they were only searching for the obligatory princess heroine that every animated flick features. Consider the vast range that have appeared in Disney's canon, from Snow White and Cinderella to Ariel, the princess under the sea, Pocahontas, the Indian princess, and Jasmine, the sultan's daughter, to name but a few. As Anya herself astutely observes, "I guess that every lonely girl hopes she's a princess." One can only imagine where this will lead--perhaps Disney's Diana, England's Rose or Fox's Camelot: The JFK Story.

Nor is this simply a matter of artistic genre. While Pocahontas and Anastasia provide two of the most glaring cases in recent years, non-animated films, such as Mel Gibson's Braveheart or Kirk Douglas' classic Spartacus are strewn with the same sort of historical problems, if perhaps to a lesser degree. Notably, these movies are also, first and foremost, dramatic vehicles.

The nature of the film industry itself tends to exacerbate the problem. Cinema is a particularly unique medium, in that it involves the collaborative creative efforts of large teams of people, not necessarily sharing the same artistic vision. What these disparate individuals can focus on, however, is a kernel of a story--a lost princess, in Anastasia, for example. When the emotional kernel of a story becomes the central, guiding principle, then historical veracity and the nuanced entirety of the story become disposable. This is unfortunate, as a true historical tale, with all its complexity and contradictions can be much more human, real and moving than a slick, cookie-cut Hollywood production.

It is, of course, very easy to bash large multi-million dollar Hollywood studio productions for abusing both history and art. The discrepancy between artistic representation and historical veracity is not new, however. Is there any essential difference between a Shakespeare play involving historical figures, such as Julius Caesar or Henry V, and a Disney or Fox production like Pocahontas or Anastasia?

Shakespeare, Disney and Fox all use history as a backdrop for a stock set of characters and a moral/political message. The primary interest is in the dramatic action and the message; the historical setting is merely a convenient agency. The historical figures are imbued with a symbolism and meaning that goes far beyond their actual personages and deeds. Instead, it reflects far more on the artist's own personality. The ultimate difference is whether the history is itself an integral part of the artistic message, such as in Glory or JFK, or if it is simply the vehicle of dramatic convenience, as it is for Shakespeare, Disney and Fox.

Shakespeare's treatment of history can be excused both by his time period and by his artistic merit. The practice (not to mention conception) of history was quite different in Shakespeare's time than our own. Even in "history" writing, very different standards were applied. Pocahontas and Anastasia, however, must answer to our own contemporary standards of historical veracity.

The conflict between art and history is not at all necessarily bad. It can be poorly resolved, as in Anastasia, but it can also be the wellspring of a tremendous amount of creativity. Artists who embroil themselves in history should ask themselves whether they are doing so to comment on the history or if the history is merely serving as a convenient dramatic vehicle, easing the creative burden.

One can argue that if the art, however, inaccurate, interests a few people in the history, then that is itself enough. True as this may be, it is merely an unwitting side-effect. A film like Glory was made with the express intent of drawing attention to the contribution of black soldiers to the Union Army war effort during the Civil War. The success of this endeavor was dependent on the movie being perceived as historically credible. Such can be said of neither Anastasia nor Pocahontas. For the handful of people whom they might interest in history, these movies create a legion of historically misinformed individuals.

Perhaps it is appropriate to note, in conclusion that Fox did take care to place, at the end of some of the longest titles I have ever seen, a disclaimer announcing that the film was just a huge historical fantasy and should not be taken as factual. But after a fun flick, who cares?Photo courtesy of Robert Speller & SonsSEVEN: The real Anastasia, seated far right