Welcome to History Lesson, where we take a closer look at the movies that dare to tackle real-life events with varying levels of accuracy, drama, and WTF casting choices. These films promise to educate and entertain, but more often than not, they rewrite history with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. We’ll be your guide through the land of miscast biopics, dramatic embellishments, and historical “inspired-by” liberties, breaking down whether these flicks are Golden Reel Award-worthy masterpieces or just a big-budget Wikipedia summary. Either way, it’s more fun than your high school history class—and there’s popcorn.
This time around we will take a look at Season 34's fact-based slate....
HISTORY LESSON: MISES
Mises is what happens when The Social Network gets locked in a libertarian subreddit for three years and comes out somehow both overconfident and underwritten. Todd Phillips directs this strange pseudo-biopic of Michael Heise with the energy of someone who saw Joker and thought, “But what if he quoted Rothbard and whined about the Libertarian Party platform?” Lucas Hedges gives a twitchy, overly internal performance as Heise, a man whose primary arc appears to be going from masturbating in his mom’s house while watching Jordan Peterson videos.... to masturbating in a hotel while watching Jordan Peterson videos. Growth! An additional aside: If you want to tell a story about real life figures, it might help to spell their name(s) correctly.
The film tries to chronicle the rise of the Mises Caucus but quickly devolves into a montage of Reddit arguments, vaguely sketched convention drama, and scenes of Bo Burnham and Kevin Pollak arguing about abortion and memes. Historical accuracy feels optional — Heise is depicted as perpetually watching YouTube and high-fiving Ron Paul like he’s his libertarian Obi-Wan, while Angela McArdle gets turned into a sort of walking Twitter thread. At times it’s unsure whether it’s meant to be satire or sincere hagiography, and the result is a story that somehow manages to be both hyper-specific and completely shallow.
HISTORY LESSON: MATERIAL GIRL
Material Girl is grimy, sweaty, ego-driven, and refuses to pretend that 1980s New York was a magical playground where dreams came true. Chloe Grace Moretz plays Madonna like a feral talent who hasn’t yet learned fame etiquette - mostly because she doesn’t care to. The resulting film is electric, messy, and so brutally unsentimental it should come with a warning for sensitive ex-boyfriends.
While some may criticize the film for portraying Madonna bulldozing through every man she meets - it's pretty close to the truth. Moretz nails the unapologetic ruthlessness, ricocheting between romantic partners like they’re temporary business ventures: Dan Gilroy gets exploited for rehearsal space, Stephen Bray for beats, Mark Kamins for record exec access, Jellybean Benitez for a sound - and then discarded with all the compassion of a tax write-off. Diego Boneta’s Jellybean doesn’t just get his heart broken; he gets treated like a human pedalboard she steps on to reach the next octave. Even poor Seymour Stein barely survives his hospital-bed signing scene, probably wondering if his IV is safe. And the wild part? It’s all truthful. The movie doesn’t condemn her for it - just presents the facts with a raised eyebrow and a shrug that says: In a man’s world, she played the game harder, smarter, and way meaner. And honestly? That might be the most accurate thing about it.
HISTORY LESSON: ASSATA
Assata strides into the biopic scene with all the solemnity and defiance of its titular figure, but it stumbles over its own sense of self-importance like a revolutionary tripping over a soapbox. Ryan Coogler’s slick direction and Teyonah Parris’s magnetic performance as Assata Shakur deliver a compelling story, but let’s not pretend this isn’t a heavily romanticized take on a convicted murderer and fugitive. The film reconstructs Shakur’s journey from idealistic college activist to Black Liberation Army member with the polish of a prestige drama, complete with courtroom clashes, daring escapes, and a finale in the sun-drenched streets of Havana. Historical accuracy gets its due - COINTELPRO’s shadow looms appropriately large - but the script dances delicately (and sometimes clumsily) around the violent realities of Shakur’s crimes, painting her almost exclusively as a martyr for justice. It’s like watching a true crime documentary where the suspect is also the narrator, and everything is just her side of the story.
The movie practically dares you to forget that Shakur was convicted of murder, preferring instead to showcase her as a symbol of righteous defiance. Sure, we get tense, artfully shot sequences of the infamous New Jersey Turnpike shootout and her eventual escape from prison, but the moral gymnastics required to frame these events as heroic are Olympic-level. Meanwhile, the Cuban exile scenes, complete with Assata teaching children and reflecting on liberation, feel more like a revolutionary tourism ad than a critical examination of her legacy. Coogler’s direction is sharp, and the performances are excellent, but the film’s glorification of its subject as a freedom fighter while downplaying the darker chapters of her life leaves a sour taste. For those who view Assata as a complex figure in Black liberation history, this movie will affirm that belief. For everyone else, it might feel like a masterclass in selective storytelling.
HISTORY LESSON: RUBY RIDGE
Kathryn Bigelow’s Ruby Ridge achieves something so rare it might qualify as a controlled substance: a fact-based thriller that refuses to sensationalize anything, yet still plays like a slow-motion car crash you can’t look away from. Bigelow films the Weavers’ life with documentary restraint - cabin-building, homeschooling, snowstorms, court-date chaos - while letting the tension mount exactly as it did in real life: gradually, bureaucratically, and with the kind of fatal inevitability only government paperwork can provide. What’s miraculous is how absorbing it all feels. By the time the first marshal appears in the treeline, you’re aware you’ve just watched a full, detailed account of an American tragedy unfold without a hint of Hollywood manipulation. It’s riveting precisely because it honors the truth, and because that truth is far more frightening than any embellished version.
The film’s historical accuracy is practically weaponized. Bigelow doesn’t editorialize - she doesn’t have to. The facts, presented plainly, reveal a picture in which federal agencies and individual agents make a cascading series of disastrous decisions, and the film is gutsy enough to let that reality speak for itself. Eric Bana’s Randy Weaver is portrayed as flawed but fundamentally human, while Hilary Swank’s Vicki is rendered with clear-eyed grace rather than mythmaking. Bigelow never tips the scales.... yet the scales tip themselves. When your movie is this faithful to the record, the government ends up looking like the antagonist simply because, well, that’s what actually happened.
Stay tuned for the LRF Comic-Con on 1/9.
Stay tuned for the LRF Comic-Con on 1/9.
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