The study of history: art, or science? Interpretive, or factual? Is it people, or events?
In his book In Defence of History (1997), Richard J. Evans explores the relative merits and issues with modernist and post-modernist methods of historical study (bear with me).
According to the post-modernist approach, history should be understood by uncovering the facts of what occurred, when, to whom, by whom. It should be possible to discover what ‘actually happened’. It should therefore also be possible for the study of history one day to come to an end, as we will have learned it all (notwithstanding the obvious fact that history forever continues).
The modernist method, however, is a literary one. It posits that what we know (or think we know) about the events of the past is always filtered through the lens of human perception, in particular those of the writer and the reader. According to this approach, it is impossible to know what really happened at the Battle of Agincourt, because the accounts are necessarily biased. That chronicler’s account requires nuanced, critical interpretation, which in turn means that our own bias comes into play (not necessarily political bias, but also our background, education, etc., all filter our perception). Further, in order to engage in such interpretation, we must seek to understand the chronicler, and so what began as research into a 15th-century battle becomes a study in 15th-century psychology. We might find we learn more about the mind of the chronicler than we do about the facts of the battle (which frankly I would find more interesting anyway).
You may have gleaned by now that I am an advocate of the latter approach. Not least because I am, through and through, a student of the arts and humanities. My formal education is principally in music and languages as well as history – for me, all means of understanding and engaging with the world through communication and shared human perception.
What has this to do with TV period drama? Or my role as an advisor?
By way of explanation, I’ll start by asking another question: what is the point of period drama?
As a handy jumping-off point, let’s use the old BBC mantra of “inform, educate, and entertain”, then let’s strike off “inform” as being relevant largely to News-24 and Panorama. So period drama should educate and entertain. I broadly agree with this. I also happen to believe that we should swap those around, and rephrase it as “first to entertain, then to educate” (on the grounds that this is drama, not documentary). In this blog, I shan’t overly concern myself with “entertain”, because that’s not my job. I mean, it is my job to be sensitive to that aspect, but not to drive it.
My job, therefore, is to safeguard the goal “to educate”.
Now let’s draw on what I said earlier about modernist vs post-modernist ways of understanding history. Art vs science, people vs facts.
I am not burdened with a scholarly post at a university, requiring non-bias, nor am I overly burdened with scruples when it comes to stating a considered opinion, and my position is this: for me, history is categorically not the factual statement of events. It is engaging with the lives of the people of the past. For three reasons:
(1) Humans are a story-telling species, and I find people infinitely more interesting than facts;
(2) it is pointless trying to understand facts without people; and
(3) the people shape the events (yes, I know that this is circular, and events shape people too. But let’s not get into a chicken-egg dispute here).
A good period drama should, first and foremost, tell the human stories of the past. A great period drama achieves this by truly trying to delve into the minds of their subjects.
Becoming Elizabeth (now on Amazon Prime) was one such attempt. The principal goal was to look into the life, mind, and feelings of the young Princess Elizabeth. I believe that not only did it achieve this, it also achieved it even more magnificently in the stunning portrayal of Princess Mary – undoubtedly the most compelling, sensitive, and believable rendering of Mary ever put to screen (courtesy not just of splendid writing by Anya Reiss, but especially thanks to extraordinary acting by Romola Garai).
King and Conqueror (BBC) did this with varying degrees of success. Personally, I don’t think that show deserved the vitriol it widely received. I thought it was a laudable attempt to tell the personal stories of William, Harold, and the people around them (and I can assure you that the production was principally concerned with this goal). If they were stymied by anything, it was that the period being handled is so very remote from our own, that it is an extremely difficult story to tell. Remember that William the Conqueror was as distant to Henry VIII as Henry is to us. There is simply so little information. Some of the most perspicacious comments on social media defending this show from the anorak-wearing authenticity-police (try doing my job mate) were those who said “we don’t actually know much at all about this time, so on what grounds are you complaining?” – Preach.
P.S. on K&C, to those who said the horses were too small, take a look at the Bayeux Tapestry. Then read the book Medieval Warhorse: Origin, Development and Redevelopment by R. H. C. Davies, as well as many other scholarly works on the subject.
But surely the greatest example in recent years of telling the lived story of a human being (of any era) is Mark Rylance’s Thomas Cromwell in Wolf Hall (BBC). The show was brilliantly written (aided of course by being based on a splendidly-written and well-researched book). And crucially Cromwell was portrayed by a truly great actor who cut his teeth on the Shakespearian stage – what better training for penetrating the mind of your character.
I’m ashamed to say that this perspective of mine – of history as human story-telling – only fully crystallised since I began working on historical TV. And certainly reached a zenith when I was fortunate enough to work with Rylance, and see him act every day.
Don’t get me wrong – factual accuracy matters. But sometimes it matters more, and sometimes it matters less.
A friend of mine recently went to a two-woman play about Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots. It consisted solely of the two women on stage, talking to each other. Did anybody complain later that these two queens never met? I hope not. My friend, and all the critics, said it was an utterly brilliant and moving portrayal not just of two rival queens, but of two women. Two fascinating, intelligent, women, who were feeling tossed about by the fates and vicissitudes of similar and conflicting world forces. Creative license was employed to bring the women together, to better tell their stories. It is a window into their souls. For while these women never met in the real world, you can bet they were always in one another’s minds.
I promise I will continue to do my best to make sure the costumes and the weapons and types of horse-saddles are as authentic as possible. But I also feel we as audiences could mind a little less about cosmetic detail, and mind a little more about mind. That’s where truth lives.