Churchill: the Man, the Myth…the Cinematic Icon?!
In the 1999 cult classic Galaxy Quest, a group of aliens wander into a Comicon, desperate to find Commander Taggart. Unfortunately, they watched a TV show and believed that the episodes were Historical Documents. The aliens’ predicament seems laughable, but on Earth, are we stuck in the same situation? The object of our fascination? The British Bulldog, Winston Churchill.
Churchill seeps into our collective cultural memory and stays there, making him more relevant than Brown, Cameron or May. Countless films cast him in the starring role. These films have an intrinsic level of cinematic spin, but it’s easy to eat them up and believe that the films are historically accurate. Winston Churchill is probably the only political figure who has risen above the backbenches to ascend into the heavens to reach a God-like status. To counter the adoration for him seems blasphemous. Yet, I think it’s time to question Churchill’s role in British film and whether we can do better.
Historical dramas are synonymous with excellent British filmmaking. In the past decade alone, there have been two films and a TV show featuring Churchill. John Lithgow, Gary Oldman and Brian Cox in The Crown, Darkest Hour and Churchill have all had their go wearing the bowler hat and smoking fat cigars. There’s a demand for these type of films. As Brexit loomed closer and began to dominate the decade, there was a need to showcase a strong, no-nonsense leader. Due to his wartime credentials and immense popularity with the conservative elite, Churchill is an obvious pick. However, much of this image is constructed. I’ve never truly understood this country’s obsession for all things Churchill: the cigars, the V for Victory, the bowler hats. The war was won over seventy years ago, but Churchill clutches onto his legacy with tobacco-stained fingers. He was a complicated man and his good deeds range from being instrumental in the victory in Europe to founding a basic version of the welfare state. On the other hand, he allowed an avoidable famine to happen, resulting in over two million dead, and repeatedly condoned excessive violence — a complicated individual, to be sure.
In every historical drama, events shortened and made a little punchier, characters cut out or reformulated. Churchill is famously cantankerous, but in each actor interprets the British Bulldog differently. John Lithgow’s Churchill is a man who is far too old to be in the job, and he cannot understand post-war Britain. Despite his failure in government, he mentors the Queen and is a grandfather figure for Britain. Gary Oldman’s Churchill in Darkest Hour barks his orders, insults people without thinking, but is a jovial family man. Brian Cox’s Churchill is consumed by grief from his failures at Gallipoli in WWI. He is terrified that a massacre will happen again. These are all wildly different, complex portrayals of the same man; and in all of them, is there something intrinsically likeable about each Churchill.
In every film, Churchill’s relationship with his secretaries softens the audience’s reaction to him. These women directly impact Churchill’s policy when something profoundly affects them. While the women are inserted for drama, it seems that the only way that Churchill changes throughout these films is whether he was personally affected. In the episode Act of God in The Crown, Churchill only becomes decisive on the Great Smog after his plucky young secretary, Venetia Scott, dies in the peasouper. In Darkest Hour, Churchill becomes more resolved to act after it’s revealed that Lily James’ Elizabeth Layton lost a brother in France. Brian Cox’s Churchill is inspired to write a speech galvanising the British people after his secretary, Helen Garrett (played by Ella Purnell), pulls him together by telling him that her fiancé is fighting for Britain. These moments, if not the women themselves, appear to be entirely fictional. Not only is Churchill simplified for drama, but he changes policy or writes key speeches based solely on his emotional reaction after his secretary has been personally affected. It isn’t very statesmanlike to only act on an issue once their secretary has cried about it. Churchill is mentored by these young women rather than the other way around. At best, this is a lazy albeit dramatic attempt at softening Churchill; at worst, it makes Churchill seem callous until events directly affect people he knows.
Things only get worse in Darkest Hour. The truth slips through director Joe Wright’s fingers, as writer, Anthony McCarten completely invents a scene. Oldman’s Churchill is determined to talk to the British people. He slips out of his cab, finds the nearest Underground station and promptly gets on a train to Westminster. Throughout his journey, the British public gives him a decisive message: never give up, never surrender. The Prime Minister never threw off his entourage to ride the underground alone, and in the early days of his leadership, the public weren’t actually that receptive to their new prime minister. McCarten decided at this point he’d already taken so many liberties he might as well go into a complete fantasy. It is well documented that Churchill was a racist, and he believed that white people were the superior race. In the carriage, Churchill meets Marcus Peters - a black young man. Peters is probably the most well-developed character out of everyone he meets down in the underground. He completes Churchill’s recited speech, and then Churchill warmly shakes his hand. This film removes Churchill’s well-documented racism and creates a new narrative, even though he “did not really think black people were as capable or as efficient as white people.” This scene’s objective is to create a more palatable image, but it fails to accept the reality that Churchill was a racist individual. A more interesting film would have explored this, but the Darkest Hour revises Churchill’s character and creates a person who the 21st-century viewer can easily like and accept.
Each film on Churchill is cast in a very similar mould. It would be scandalous to cast him as a villain. But, for many people in the UK and around the world, that’s precisely how he’s seen. The firebombing of Dresden has been called an immoral act and a war crime, the preventable Bengal Famine led to three million deaths, and Churchill has been often accused of using excessive violence - and these are just some examples. These offences are often hastily swept under the rug, and never talked about again. It’s contentious to dislike Churchill. Film is a way to inform and engage, but it also can confirm steadfast beliefs. There are some odd omissions of certain significant events in the film canon. While Churchill is repeatedly enshrined on celluloid, the 1945 Labour Government is nowhere to be seen, even though it was an incredibly revolutionary government. In Churchill, the end title cards lead us to believe that Churchill was in power until the 60s. There is little context for the post-war government even though the choices made during that government have meaningfully affected us all. They founded the NHS, expanded the social state and initiated free secondary education for all. The founding of the NHS is cinematic in itself. Health minister Aneurin Bevan was a well-spoken firebrand, determined to create a healthcare system for all, free at the point of use. Bevan fought tooth and nail for the NHS, and he was a dynamic, interesting character – he was one of the only members of the opposition Churchill “sit still and listen to”. It’s ludicrous that these events haven’t been dramatised, but Churchill’s wartime dramas have been repeatedly rehashed. It wasn’t until A-Level that I learnt about Attlee’s post-war government. Yet, when did I learn about Churchill? Sometime in primary school. Film is an educator by its nature. But when it refuses to engage with history that’s barely covered in high-school, and prefers to expand on pockets of history which the audience is already very familiar with, then film is no longer educating – the audience watches because they already agree.
Although historical dramas can be pretty flexible with the truth, they enshrine a particular point in history. Slightly inaccurate historical dramas, like Amadeus, aren’t going to affect your world view profoundly. But Churchill dramas are different. He’s still part of the political conversation – politicians model themselves after him, anti-BLM protesters “protect” his statue, and his legacy is still debated. We should be educated on Churchill’s victory against the Nazis. But is this the only side of Churchill we should see? Context is essential, and audiences should be able to watch a wide variety of films that tell different stories from different perspectives. With no context, it’s easy to assume, like Galaxy Quest’s aliens, that every film is a historical document.
Written by Lucy Clarke
Lucy Clarke is a recent graduate in German Studies and an avid film lover and writer. When she’s not watching or writing about film, you can find her trying to befriend all the neighbourhood cats or singing Eurovision classics. You can find her blog here: lucyatthepictures.com and you can also find out what she’s up to on her twitter