It has been argued that the 2024 biographical film, Back to Black, based on the life of Amy Winehouse, places a grossly disproportionate focus on her drug use and the turbulent relationship between her and Blake Fielder-Civil, rather than painting an accurate and thoughtful representation of the singer herself.
The Queen biopic, Bohemian Rhapsody, not only reduces the relationships between bandmates to flat, simplified porridge to encourage a more dramatic narrative, but also waters down the reality of Freddie Mercury’s sexual promiscuity to achieve a PG-13 rating. While previous generations discovered the lives of history’s most titanic figures within the pages of books, it is almost certain that their descendants will do so in the cinema. So, is the consistent warping of reality found in biopics cause for concern, or merely artistic expression? As film becomes the world’s premier form of storytelling, how might it dilute the accuracy with which we understand historical icons, and could it lead to an increasingly narrow perspective on the past?
As the DVD slowly dies and streaming services continue to grow in popularity, production companies are under increasing pressure to churn out films that will achieve sure-fire success at the box office. This mentality seems to be bringing with it a decrease in risk-taking, while favouring certain formulae that seem to sell tickets despite, perhaps, lacking originality. In no genre is this more palpable than biopics. How many times have we seen the scrappy rise to stardom, hubristic fallout, and inevitable comeback for one final victory played over and over again with a different face and name? History’s nuance is lost when every story is stripped of its distinction and becomes the same collage of predictable tropes.
Further nuance is squandered when real people are reduced to caricatures, made to complement the film’s narrative rather than provide accurate portrayals, and often written with the subtlety of a fire alarm. How could anyone even begin to capture the humanity of someone else and depict them as precisely who they were in the space of a film’s runtime—let alone an entire host of characters? Instead, as an audience, we are encouraged to make judgements about people based on whichever key historical moments happen to have been represented in the film and the light in which a director chooses to show certain characters (the representations of whom are largely dictated by what might please an audience). That goes without mentioning the moral implications that accompany the use of someone’s identity to further a scene or push the plot forward, rather than to give an honest interpretation of their person.
The most glaring issue that comes with our consumption of history being largely cinematic is that films are made not by historians, but by artists, whose aim is to create an artistic product rather than consistent historiography. As we stray further from historical works made by passionate experts and towards cinematic reproductions of history, will we continue to forfeit accuracy in favour of excitement and narrative?
It is not some great societal failing to produce and consume content based on true stories. Rather, it has become one of the primary outlets for filmmakers to demonstrate creativity and prowess in their field. What remains vital is that audiences approach biopics with the correct expectations, and appreciate them for what they are beyond historical retellings: art.
“Marisa Abela Back to Black interview” by Zach Pope is licensed under CC BY 3.0.