Civil War Cinema Needs a Bold Union Perspective to Honor Historical Truths

As I delve into the vast library of Civil War films, I find myself grappling with the persistent challenge of accurately depicting this tumultuous chapter in American history. Recently, I embarked on a viewing of "Gettysburg," the 1993 film directed by Ronald F. Maxwell, which is adapted from Michael Shaara's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, "The Killer Angels." While I have yet to complete the four-hour epic, several observations have already taken shape regarding its portrayal of the war and its underlying themes. Firstly, the film excels in its set design and historical authenticity. The meticulous detail in the uniforms, encampments, and weaponry offers viewers a tangible connection to the past. Filmed on location at Gettysburg, the battle sequences evoke a sense of realism that is commendable. As someone who has walked the hallowed grounds of this historical site, I appreciate the efforts made to recreate the events that unfolded there. However, my enjoyment is tempered by the film's overarching narrative, which frames the Civil War as a tragic conflict among brothers. This perspective, while capturing a certain emotional resonance, skims over the war's most critical and defining issue: slavery. Though "Gettysburg" does not fall squarely into the Lost Cause narrative, it nonetheless downplays the significance of slavery in the soldiers' consciousness and the conflict itself. For instance, the film discusses General Robert E. Lee's strategies in Pennsylvania without acknowledging the darker reality of the Army of Northern Virginia's actions—specifically, the kidnapping of free Black Americans as they marched into free territory. This trend is not unique to "Gettysburg." A striking pattern emerges across various cinematic portrayals of the Civil War, where films lean towards sympathetic or supportive depictions of the Confederate cause. Classics like "The Birth of a Nation" and "Gone With the Wind" are not mere outliers; they are emblematic of a broader Hollywood tradition that often romanticizes the Confederacy. Even the Western genre frequently adopts the trope of the noble ex-Confederate seeking redemption on the frontier, perpetuating a narrative that can distort the complexities of the period. The modern cinematic landscape has not produced a significant Civil War film in recent years, with the notable exception of Steven Spielberg's "Lincoln," which, while brilliant, is more a political drama than a war epic. The reluctance of studios to embark on projects centered around this historical period can be attributed to a variety of factors, including a growing aversion to risk in a market dominated by established franchises. As we reflect on what the Civil War represents, it becomes increasingly clear that a film with an unapologetically pro-Union perspective is long overdue. Such a portrayal could illuminate the fundamental struggle against human bondage and provide a counter-narrative to the prevailing myths surrounding the Confederacy. The war, which began as an effort to restore the Union and evolved into a profound crusade for emancipation, deserves a cinematic retelling that honors its complexities and truths. In an era where history is often reframed through contemporary lenses, there is a pressing need for a film that confronts the past head-on, embracing the uncomfortable realities of the Civil War while celebrating the triumphs of the Union cause. Only then can we hope to see a portrayal that aligns more closely with the historical truth—a truth that acknowledges the pain, suffering, and ultimate triumph of a nation striving for justice and equality.