IN TIME AND SPACE. 10 historical movies from ten countries

Every country has its own history, recorded in the annals or handed down from generation to generation. Therefore, historical cinema is a universal genre, practiced wherever cinematography develops. The belonging of specific films to this genre seems obvious on the surface, but nevertheless often raises doubts. They arise due to excessive deviations from what we know about history from textbooks. Old chronicles and archaeological research explain a lot, but will not create a complete picture of past reality. Directors often use historical materials in order to tell a fictional storyline, usually an adventure-romance one. They have the right to do so, but if they make a centuries-old historical event an important factor in the performance, there is no reason not to include it in the genre. Deviations from the “truth” are not always mistakes of the creators, as they often serve specific purposes – they are the result of budget, convenience, specificity, creativity….

This text aims to highlight the best historical films, but according to a strict key (productions from different countries and in different languages). In order to select works representative of individual countries, I decided to juxtapose side by side the so-called historical giants – the most expensive (and possibly the best) domestic films that are “national epics” and are also successful abroad. It’s also a good opportunity to learn about the history of different nations, so I chose films in which local directors tell the story of heroes from their own country’s history. For this reason, I left out Pharaoh (1966) based on the novel by Boleslaw Prus. For this reason, I didn’t consider American films about ancient Rome (in the end, no English-language film entered the list). I also omitted films about 20th-century armed conflicts, because according to the common definition, they belong to a different genre – war cinema. Concluding this introduction, I invite you to an interesting cinematic journey through time and space… Order of titles – chronological.

1. The Gaucho War (La guerra gaucha; Argentina 1942), dir. by Lucas Demare

The scale and significance of this film is so great that it was talked about like Argentina’s Gone with the Wind (1939). The thing is set during the Argentine War of Independence from 1810-1818, specifically in its final phase, in 1817. Troops of Argentine cowboys, the so-called gauchos, fought irregular battles against royalist forces loyal to the Spanish crown. The film depicts a series of guerrilla battles, reminiscent of American films about the Wild West, as well as Italian-Spanish zapata westerns made two decades later. Among others, the gauchos have on their side a church worker (the so-called sacristan) who, feigning loyalty to the royalists, favors the guerrillas – sending them information through a messenger or by striking the church bell. Captured by the rebels, a lieutenant from the Spanish army also succumbs to revolutionary ideals about freedom, incidentally falling in love with the beautiful Asunción.

Argentina was going through a turbulent time in the 1940s. People were divided between those in favor of joining the war and those who wanted to remain neutral. Ramón Castillo’s rule led to conflict, and in 1943 a military coup ousted the president. The Gaucho War, made based on a series of books by Leopold Lugones, was well suited to the mood of the country at the time. For greater authenticity, the cinematography was shot in the province of Salti, in northwestern Argentina, where the events depicted here took place.

The powerful sound of musical instruments is striking from the outset – the director’s brother, Lucio Demare, was the author of the soundtrack. The film in question won as many as seven awards from the Argentine Academy of Cinematography Arts and Sciences, conceived on the model of the American Academy. In 1955, the Academy was dissolved by the military junta. To this day, however, another Argentine award is presented, the Silver Condors, which were won by The Gaucho War (for best picture, director and adapted screenplay) during the first hand in 1943. The film has stood the test of time well and would have found numerous audiences had it been better distributed. Some cinephiles may be familiar with Hugo Fregonese, who served as assistant director here and later gained popularity abroad. He shot films in Argentina, the US, Italy, Spain, the UK and West Germany.

2. Against All (Proti vsem; Czechoslovakia 1957), dir. by Otakar Vávra

When the first historical production in color was made in Poland – Mountains in Flames (1955) about the 1681 anti-Saxon uprising – the Czechs reworked the theme of the Hussite Wars of the 15th century for 33 million crowns. Three parts were produced: Jan Hus (1955), Jan Zizka (1956) and Against All (1957). The latter lands in the compilation, as the trilogy is on an upward trend. Each part is basically a separate story, so they can be viewed in any order. Alois Jirásek’s prose was used to create a capital show, visually impressive, criticized for stereotyping and bias, heavily distorting the real picture. Communism ruling this part of Europe certainly influenced the final version of the film, but to look for communist ideology in the Hussite movement, in my opinion, makes little sense.

Otakar Vávra’s higher rated film is Witchhammer (1970) about the activities of the inquisitors in the Czech lands (the witch trials in the town of Šumperk). The work won greater acclaim because the director put more emphasis on the dramatic layer, creating a shocking picture of the era. The Hussite trilogy, especially the crowning work Against All, deserves attention for another reason. It’s an excellent representative of the times in which it was made, proving that Czech cinema isn’t only “nobody knows anything” films, but also spectacular genre productions. When we watch the final clash – the Battle of Vítková Hora from 1420 – it becomes clear that the film matches the quality of more expensive productions from overseas. In addition, the chaos of the time, amidst medieval hypocrisy and religious fanaticism, is very well portrayed. It’s very edgy on one side and the other. People sing religious songs, but they have hatred in their hearts instead of God. The scene in which the house is burned down, even though there are two people in it, is strongly memorable and thought-provoking.

3. The Leopard (Il gattopardo; Italy 1963), dir. by Luchino Visconti

The unification of Italy, or the so-called Risorgimento, was a landmark event in Italian history that lived to see a magnificent tribute in the form of a colorful, visually stunning production. Director-aristocrat Luchino Visconti has taken care of the right means to create not so much a film, but rather an extraordinary series of images, masterful works of art that true connoisseurs will appreciate. It was a beautiful time, so the actors were chosen attractive as well. Burt Lancaster, Claudia Cardinale and Alain Delon, although they were not fluent in Italian and had to be dubbed, perfectly fit into the vision of the changes taking place in the “animal kingdom”, where jackals and hyenas come in place of cheetahs and lions. Beauty and majesty gave way to dark forces, which reached their apogee during World War II.

The early 1960s saw the premiere of two works by Visconti that were very different from each other – Rocco and His Brothers, which was close to the aesthetics of neorealism, and the historical fresco The Leopard, which was comparable to lavish theatrical productions. However, he would be wrong who thinks that artistic richness hides shallow content. The script, which involved as many as five authors, is – based on a novel by Giuseppe di Lampedusa – a deep and sincere expression of longing for something that is irretrievably gone, but deserves to be remembered. The ball sequence, lasting more than 40 minutes, is a symbolic farewell, a feast in honor of those whose loss hurts the most. Because nothing can replace them. The film was awarded the Palme d’Or, but 8½ was submitted for the Oscar at the time. As it turned out later, it was the right decision, because Federico Fellini’s film was awarded the statuette. However, for me, it’s The Leopard that is an exceptional work, which has aged very nobly.

4. Saladin and the Great Crusades (El Naser Salah el Dine; Egypt 1963), dir. by Youssef Chahine

The first Egyptian superproduction, made along the lines of the Western events of the season. A colorful biography of the Sultan of Egypt, seasoned with a handful of melodrama, reminding us of the religious wars in grand style. The script was based on a novel by Najib Mahfuz, later a Nobel laureate who also wrote film scripts. The story is set during the Third Crusade (1189-1192), commanded by three European monarchs: Roman Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa, French King Philip II Augustus and English ruler Richard the Lionheart. The juxtaposition of Saladin and Richard comes off well, indicating emphatically that the director was not biased, and presented both superiors with respect, while emphasizing the pacifist message. Crusaders or Arabs – all corpses look the same. For what ideas do they make the sacrifice? For power, glory and personal gain of the commanders. Because, after all, not for God. “Those who use the cross as an excuse to invade my land aren’t my brothers”, these words are spoken by an Arab who is… a Christian.

Egyptian filmmaker Youssef Chahine studied acting in Los Angeles. So he observed firsthand what was going on in Hollywood, but also became more familiar with the mentality of Christian America. And while he made sure to include extraordinarily impressive battle scenes in his film, he didn’t forget the ideological message of tolerance, respect and absolute honesty. Although Egyptian cinema is made mainly for the domestic market, this film can confidently conquer the world because no foul play has been cast. Every aspect of the film – from the thoughtful script to the technical nuances – is polished. It’s possible that Chahine – who is also a producer – drew handfuls from Italian productions called peplum, as composer Angelo Francesco Lavagnino was hired.

Saladin and the Great Crusades is a high-class endeavor, which for European or American viewers is an exotic production, but one that clearly conveys universal content. “Knights of the cross” and “knights of the crescent” have not yet buried their swords – this crusade is still going on, so the message of mutual acceptance and respect for the other is still relevant. The film also encourages you to delve into the era and try to understand its laws, specifics and atmosphere.

5. Samurai Banners (Fûrin kazan; Japan 1969), dir. by Hiroshi Inagaki

“Swift as the wind, gentle as the forest, passionate as the fire, unshakeable as the mountain” – this is the Takeda clan’s motto, inscribed on the banners. It’s taken from Sun Tsu’s The Art of War, dating back to the 6th century BC. Samurai Banners is a film in which war strategy and tactics are very important, so the film is closer to a historical production than a classic samurai story. The plot spans three eras during the Sengoku period, focusing on the life and career of prominent Japanese strategist Kansuke Yamamoto. We first get to know him as a ronin, then as a general of extraordinary ambition and imagination. The film moves smoothly from one event to the next, thoroughly presenting a picture of those times, carefully revealing the various pages of history. Events culminate in the fourth battle on the Kawanakajima Plain in 1561, which went down in history as the bloodiest.

Japan’s historical annals hide many inspiring episodes, so it should come as no surprise that many domestic directors have tried to reckon with the feudal past in their films. But, for example, plots from Akira Kurosawa’s films can be freely transferred to other realities, because they are universal. The situation is different with Hiroshi Inagaki’s films. His excellent works, such as the three movies about Musashi Miyamoto (Samurai Trilogy, 1954-1956), Daredevil in the Castle (1961) or, for example, Chushingura: The Loyal 47 Ronin (1962), are set in a specific reality and cannot be easily transferred. Therefore, in the historical drama category, Inagaki is, in my opinion, the most representative Japanese filmmaker. Samurai Banners is one of the last films of this great director. An excellent performance was created in it by Toshirô Mifune – tough and confident in scenes with men, but a bit dim in scenes with women. In addition – good roles by Yoshiko Sakuma as Princess Yu and Kinnosuke Nakamura as daimyō Takeda.

I would like to point out one more thing. Watching European historical films, I noticed that horses are treated terribly in battle scenes (and not only). The parts involving them look disturbing. Samurai films are more subtle in this regard despite the noisy and violent style of this type of production. The Japanese, led by Inagaki, used mounts for riding, but they were spared in the stunt scenes. Such an approach can cause disappointment, as it senses a not very high degree of credibility. I see it differently – the film gets an extra point from me for the fact that for the sake of art and entertainment, the lives of animals were not risked. Horses, by the way, are underestimated but essential actors of historical cinema. And this is often forgotten.

6. Michael the Brave / The Last Crusade (Mihai Viteazul; Romania 1970), dir. by Sergiu Nicolaescu

Sergiu Nicolaescu entered the film industry with momentum. His directorial debut was the impressive historical production The Dacians (1966), but it’s his second work, Michael the Brave, that is the most watched Romanian film worldwide. A great figure worthy of a great film. A man who fought fierce battles against the Turks. The success of Nicolaescu’s previous film made the Americans want to co-finance the director’s next project. They proposed casting a Charlton Heston or Richard Burton-type star in the role of Michael the Brave. However, the Romanian authorities headed by Nicolae Ceaușescu opted for a local actor to play the Romanian national hero. It just so happened that the director was also an actor, so it was he who was selected to play the main character, but he preferred the role of the vizier Selim Pasha for himself. The title character, on the other hand, was played by Amza Pellea, a respected theater actor who already had experience playing great chiefs. He twice played the last Dacian king, Decebal, in films: The Dacians (1966) and Trajan’s Column (1968).

The film about Mihai Pătrașcu outlined an interesting relationship between the characters. After all, the brave leader was friends with those with whom he fought: Selim Pasha and Sigismund Báthory. His motivation is clear – only the country of his ancestors matters. This attachment to his roots compels him to fight for three principalities: Wallachia, Transylvania and Moldavia. What first strikes you while watching the film is the mass of work done on the battle sequences. I would venture to say that we have here the best battle scenes ever filmed. But the smaller skirmishes, such as the chivalric duel between the Wallachian hospodar and the Transylvanian prince, also add to the viewer’s interest. The actors have been superbly cast, and Titus Popovici’s script is an expert job, the hallmark of a brilliant strategist. I also paid attention to the beautiful music (Tiberiu Olah) – it brings back nostalgic memories. The duration of the film is two hundred minutes – it passes without a moment’s boredom.

7. The Deluge (Potop; Poland 1974), dir. by Jerzy Hoffman

The Poles also have their own film epic. And more than one. The first is Knights of the Teutonic Order (1960) by Aleksander Ford, the second is Pharaoh (1966) by Jerzy Kawalerowicz, which, however, I didn’t consider because it doesn’t tell the story of Polish history (if it does, it’s about modern Poland, but in a metaphorical way). Before I get to the point, I will mention two more films that were made on a smaller scale, so many people may not remember them. First of all, Mountains in Flames (1955) by Jan Batory and Henryk Hechtkopf, which is the first colorful historical production shot in Poland. It treats of a revolt of peasants against the nobility in 1651. The leader of the uprising was Aleksander Kostka-Napierski, who in the film utters these words: “You accuse me of betrayal of the homeland.

You, who bring this homeland to its downfall. You have seized everything for yourselves, and the whole nation lives in slavery and misery. What right, then, do you call the just struggle of the people for freedom and life a godless rebellion”. Such a statement can be understood ambiguously, including as an expression of opposition to the system then prevailing after the war. Even if the film was made to the order of the authorities of the time, the communist propaganda contained in it no longer offends today, and the film defends itself by showing the realities of the era and efficient production.

Another Polish film of the genre worth mentioning is titled King Boleslaus the Bold (1971), directed by Witold Lesiewicz. It’s an interesting biography of one of the most famous Polish kings, realized with attention to detail… But let’s move on to the title that appears in the headline, because it’s the one I wanted to write more about, even though a lot has been written about it anyway. Why did I choose The Deluge? Because it fits the most in this list, since, like the rest of the titles placed here, it’s a model of epic cinema and a leading entry in the country where the director comes from. Therefore, it can be shown abroad without shame, watching the amazed faces of the audience.

Jerzy Hoffman’s previous work Colonel Wolodyjowski (1969) seems next to this film a mere exercise before taking on the real challenge. Hoffman, being an aficionado of the Sienkiewicz trilogy, set aside for the time being With Fire and Sword, which had already been filmed in Italy (1962) with a highly mediocre result, even by the standards of Italian peplum. Based on the 1886 literary work, the director – together with Adam Kersten and Wojciech Żukrowski – prepared the text, creating the basis for a passionate show. The Swedish aggression in 1655 wrote one of the bloodiest pages in Poland’s history – this subject deserved careful staging and an impressive setting. The film was shot over 535 shooting days in Polish and Soviet locations, and the budget amounted to 100 million PLN (by comparison, the making of Knights of the Teutonic Order consumed 38 million, Colonel Wolodyjowski – 40, and Pharaoh – 60).

The plot contains elements of a swashbuckler film style adventure romance. This is indicated not only by an emotional plot and a sabre duel in the rain, but also by intrigue with a change of identity, as in The Hunchback (1857) by Paul Féval and The Count of Monte Cristo (1844) by Alexandre Dumas (the change of identity in The Deluge, however, serves a purpose other than revenge – it serves to redeem guilt, to tarnish the stigma of a traitor). There’s a lot of exciting adventure here that leads to the reunion of two charismatic characters. But focusing on a pair of fictional characters, Kmicic and Oleńka, didn’t at all diminish the importance of the picture – the historical background, the intrigues of the magnates and the war going on around them remain a very important factor, shaping the personality of the hero, influencing his fate. It’s difficult to find appropriate words of appreciation for the numerous actors who took part in the production. It’s difficult to have reservations about the battle scenes – they are impressive as few in Polish cinematography. The five-hour screening doesn’t prove to be a tiresome experience, on the contrary – it promises a long, delicious feast.

8. 80 Hussars (80 huszár; Hungary 1978), dir. by Sándor Sára

“Why in history does the spirit of rebellion always return?” – asks one of the characters rhetorically. The hottest – due to revolutions – period in history dates back to 1848 and is called the Springtime of Nations. At that time, rebellions against despotic rulers broke out almost all over Europe. The Kingdom of Hungary was under the rule of the German Habsburg dynasty. The film tells the story of a group of eighty hussars who revolt against their Austrian superiors. After being ordered to whip out a comrade-in-arms for desertion, they make a joint decision that will cost them dearly. Stationed on Polish soil, the Magyars intend – against the orders of their commanders – to return to their own country, to their own homes, to their waiting families. The Hungarians had their own country, unlike the Poles, who were wiped off the map – there is, by the way, a beautiful scene in Sándor Sára’s film in which the Poles sing the national anthem (Poland Is Not Yet Lost). Much of the footage was shot in Tarnow and the Tatra National Park.

This is one of those films in which not only human suffering is visible, but also that of animals. Crossing the river, mountains and stones must have been difficult and dangerous especially for the horses, which were not spared here. It affects the emotions very much, grabs the heart and puts you in a stupor. The director probably achieved the effect he wanted. It’s difficult to pass by this film indifferently, and for Hungarian cinematography it’s a unique work. All the more surprising that it’s usually overlooked in professional studies of cinema history. Timeless themes that often recur in discussions, such as patriotism, the courage to rebel, determination to pursue one’s goals, and independence and the associated comfort of having one’s own state, have here become part of an exciting historical-adventure story. The pessimistic pronunciation of the work was perfectly reinforced by the majestic mountain scenery, beautiful and unflinching in the face of convoluted human fate.

9. Khan Asparuh (Хан Аспарух; Bulgaria 1981), dir. by Ludmil Staikov

One of the biggest box office hits of Bulgarian cinema is Metodi Andonov’s moving drama The Goat Horn (1972), with the wonderful Katya Paskaleva in a dual role. The plot is set in 17th century Bulgaria under the Turkish yoke. However, the historical background gives way to a story about blind hatred that leads to nothing. About revenge that destroys the dream of a better future. Such a plot can be transferred with equal success to other realities, so among Bulgarian historical films the more representative work is Khan Asparuh, directed by Ludmil Staikov. The film was made to commemorate the 1300th anniversary of the Bulgarian state, but also to prove that a monumental historical production can be made in this country. It lasts about 320 minutes and is divided into three parts reflecting the three stages of the state’s creation: Phanagoria, The Migration and Land Forever.

“History is not the past, but what we know about the past”, says Byzantine Emperor Constantine IV to Belisarius, who befriended these “barbarians.” His point of view is taken by the scriptwriter (and researcher of the history of Bulgarian lands), Vera Mutafchiyeva, as she recounts the birth of her homeland. Located in what is now Ukraine, Phanagoria is an ancient city that was the former seat of the Bulgarian nation. Harassed by the Khazars, the inhabitants decided to look for another land to live in. It’s possible that many countries, not just Bulgaria, were founded in the way shown in the film. A lot of work went into this project. Thanks to a huge amount of money, wonderful mass and battle scenes were realized. Never before or since has such a large-scale production been created in this country. The end result is admirable. In 1984, a 90-minute long version was made for the international market. It was titled 681 AD: The Glory of Khan and English dubbing was added. In such a shortened and re-edited version, the film loses most of its qualities. The Deluge, too, in the original is about 300 minutes long. Can you imagine that the remake, shortened to 90 minutes, could match the original?

10. Queen Margot (La reine Margot; France 1994), dir. by Patrice Chéreau

The film is a French-Italian-German co-production made with the American Miramax studio, but the role of the French is dominant. It was in the country on the Seine that a page of history was written in blood with the date August 23-24, 1572. And it was two Frenchmen who made the best use of this page, creating something of absolute value based on it. The first was writer Alexandre Dumas, the second was director Patrice Chéreau, who shot his film almost entirely in France, casting most of the roles with actors from that country. Queen Margot is a mature and intense production that penetrates inside and strikes sensitive chords. The authors took care of the suggestiveness of the picture. In the 1990s, the exquisite style of costume romances and swashbuckler productions, so clearly rooted in the French film tradition, had not yet passed away – as evidenced by the films Revenge of the Musketeers (a.k.a. D’Artagnan’s Daughter, 1994) and On Guard (1997) – but Patrice Chéreau didn’t go that route. His concept was right – such a tragic and bloody moment in history deserves a more mature approach.

The strength of the film lies in the atmosphere, extremely gloomy and harsh, which co-create a decadent vision of a world full of people with a dark nature, thirsty for blood, possessed of a morbid fanaticism and thirst for power. It manages to bring to the surface the true horror of the era. This is not a boring lecture on history, but a cinema full of emotions. Emotions that aren’t expected from a typical entertainment production, but from a film drama that is ambitious and painful in its message. Passions and wariness come out of people at the least expected moments, contributing to a great tragedy. On the screen, this is presented believably, without embellishment or exaggerated effect. Realism simply strikes between the eyes. Also thanks to the actors. Isabelle Adjani in the title role is superb, but the supporting cast – led by Virna Lisi – is phenomenal as well. This is also due to a well-crafted script. Interestingly, the author of the text is comedy specialist Danièle Thompson, daughter of Gérard Oury and co-writer of his best films.