‘Richard II’ and Other Historical Films Aim for Allegorical Truth

The ongoing criticism of creative artists plundering history and its characters for inspiration and subjects for their dramatic works too often obscures the enrichment we derive from the marriage of fact and fiction. Both Sir Ian McKellen’s “Richard III” and Oliver Stone’s “Nixon” and his earlier “JFK” are provocative and legitimate additions to the rich lessons of human behavior and folly that history can teach us.

With regard to the strong objections raised to McKellen’s interpretation of “Richard III” by the New Jersey-based Richard III Foundation, the legitimate quest for historical justice should not undermine Shakespeare’s dramatic masterpiece, which presents us with perhaps the greatest allegory in our culture upon the theme of political terror.

As with all dramatic creations--Stone’s “JFK” and “Nixon,” or Shakespeare’s “MacBeth” or “Henry V”--it is not even relevant to the audience’s enjoyment and understanding whether Richard III existed at all. The greatness of Shakespeare’s tormented, deformed tyrant resounds with allegorical truth no matter what the playwright’s source.

Indeed, the more horrible Richard’s dramatic persona, the more effective Shakespeare’s meaning becomes, removed as it must be from historical reality. In this respect, McKellen’s adaptation is a landmark to be applauded, not condemned.

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What danger there is comes from how we have bought into the Shakespeare Canon, accepting the body of plays by category, including the so-called “History Plays.” Though a convenient label, it is abusive to think that Shakespeare was creating true histories. In writing the plays dealing with the English monarchs from Richard II to Richard III (eight plays in all), Shakespeare made some deliberate and quite egregious revisions to known historical fact.

For example, in “Henry IV Part I,” he astutely delayed the birth of Henry Hotspur by a full generation so that the young firebrand of the north might have a rousing showdown with the other young stud, Prince Hal, the future Henry V. For Shakespeare to have given us the staggering death speech of Hotspur, beginning “Oh Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth!,” he was entitled to rewrite the Book of Genesis, adding a few days to God’s labors.

Shakespeare is held responsible above all others for the notoriety of Richard III. But, in consciously rewriting the rise to power and the reign of terror of the last Plantagenet king, Shakespeare did not create the bad reputation that has been poor Richard’s legacy.

When Shakespeare put pen to paper, the Tudor propaganda machine was in full swing and as skilled at truly rewriting history as any of today’s revisionist efforts. Queen Elizabeth I’s chief councilor, the brilliant Lord Burghley, rewrote history every day. In giving “official history” a dramatic life of its own, Shakespeare simply exploited the prevailing perception, one he would have gone against at his own peril.

I have myself written three historical screenplays, one about Richard III, his reign seen from the seemingly unlikely perspective of a woman who falls in love with him. My own Richard is closer to the “historical reality” than is Shakespeare’s, but ultimately, my Richard is no more nor no less real than his. Like Shakespeare, I have indulged in caricature, sentiment and allegory to create a consistent drama.

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And yet with regard to the legitimate search for historical truth, I am one with the New Jersey Richard III Foundation. I am, after all, a “Richard” and a true “son of York,” emotionally loyal to the last real English king, wretchedly betrayed and savagely butchered at the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485. Along with Ricardians the world over, I pray for a day when a more thoughtful and rigorous review of history gains wider acceptance and brings redemption for Richard Plantagenet, a just, wise and noble king, who has until now been consigned to the front row of history’s rogues gallery.