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 6's fact-based slate....
HISTORY LESSON: Swim Through the Darkness
What happens when you mix 60s folk-pop, a VW Bus, a forehead spider tattoo, and a man named Maitreya Kali? You get Swim Through the Darkness, a biopic so relentlessly grim it makes Requiem for a Dream look like a feel-good comedy. Steve McQueen directs this biographical fever dream about Craig Smith - er, sorry, Maitreya Kali — played by John Gallagher Jr., whose descent from Beach Boys-adjacent golden boy to acid-tripping, knife-wielding, restraining-order magnet is both depressing and utterly bizarre. This is the story of a man who went from singing sunny tunes to handing out his self-produced album Inca like it was a mixtape at Coachella — except instead of Coachella, it’s the mean streets of L.A., and nobody’s interested.
The film’s timeline jumps around like Craig’s mental state, taking us from his brief stint in a Monkees knockoff to tripping face in Afghanistan, and then spiraling all the way down to assault charges and a homeless existence. Oh, and did we mention the spider tattoo? Because McQueen sure doesn’t let us forget it. The supporting cast includes Melissa Benoist as the ex-acquaintance who regrets running into him, and Jonathan Groff as the best friend who just wanted to make music but instead got a knife pulled on him. Meanwhile, the soundtrack of Craig’s earnest folk tunes is a tonal mismatch so profound it somehow works. If nothing else, this film will teach you that even the grooviest of hippie dreams can end with you sprawled out on the ground, alone in an Afghani alley. Who needs sunshine when you’ve got Swim Through the Darkness?
HISTORY LESSON: Bonnie and Clyde
Taika Waititi’s Bonnie and Clyde is less a history lesson and more a karaoke night with Depression-era criminals, and honestly, we’re here for it. Michael B. Jordan’s Clyde Barrow is so charismatic, you forget the real Clyde was more “small-town crook” than “smooth criminal,” while Elizabeth Olsen’s Bonnie Parker is given more gun-slinging moments than she probably ever actually had (spoiler: Bonnie didn’t really wield a Tommy gun in real life, but doesn’t she look cool doing it?). The film gleefully steamrolls over any and all historical accuracy, with moments like Bonnie and Clyde massacring a Klan rally, complete with slow-motion flaming cross impalement. Sure, there’s no evidence they ever fought the Klan, but who’s going to argue with Clyde shouting, “There you go, baby,” as Bonnie goes full action hero?
Also, historical purists might raise an eyebrow at Barry Keoghan’s W.D. Jones being portrayed as a lovable, bumbling sidekick rather than the angsty 16-year-old accomplice he really was. And let’s not even start on Bonnie comforting Clyde to Jefferson Starship’s Miracles — a song that came out 40 years later. But hey, why let facts get in the way of watching the duo’s bullet-riddled demise set to Jessica by The Allman Brothers Band? If actual history were this entertaining, we’d all have aced our high school history exams.
HISTORY LESSON: Shake Hands with the Devil
Shake Hands with the Devil is the kind of war drama that earnestly stares into the abyss—then decides to monologue at it for two and a half hours. Director Bennett Miller gives us a polished, emotionally reserved look at the Rwandan genocide through the eyes of UN Colonel Roméo Dallaire (played by Liam Neeson, whose decision not to attempt a Quebecois accent is either a wise artistic choice or a complete surrender to dialect apathy). Neeson does what he can, but spends much of the film looking like he’s waiting for someone to bring him tea, or possibly a clearer sense of the script’s tone. Credit where it’s due: the film means to tell a vital, horrifying story—and occasionally succeeds, especially in its depiction of bureaucratic inertia and moral paralysis. But it often swaps urgency for sepia-toned brooding and prestige-drama fog.
Historically speaking, the film takes some… liberties. Dallaire did not suggest President Habyarimana travel by plane to avoid danger (a plot point here that somehow makes the audience complicit in the assassination setup). There’s also no record of an actual surface-to-air missile lair being manned in a Kigali basement like it’s a Bond villain’s starter pack. And while the real Dallaire did save thousands of lives, the idea that he was sitting alone in a Quebec psychologist’s office narrating his trauma like it’s Frasier After Dark is pure dramatic invention. The film seems to desperately want him to be both helpless and heroic, which makes for a tonally confused experience. Still, it’s a powerful story—just not always the one it thinks it’s telling.
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