It can fulfil every requirement of drama, from escapism to social commentary and become anything the viewer wants, but it has become something that conjures up only images of crinolines and corsets. It has at its disposal the entirety of out past. It could span world upon world, from the pharaohs of Egypt to the Ayatollahs of Iran, but all too often we are palmed off with the same Merchant Ivory productions, sweating out their repressed passions in the cast off costumes of the Henry James adaptation that Merchant Ivory finished on Tuesday. We have so much in out past that could be used, but it never is. Perhaps this is understandable.
Historical drama is something that can be very daunting to producers and directors alike.
Medieval fugitives in green lycra is not a pretty sight, but it hangs before the wardrobe mistress eyes like a corpse from some kind of 50s film gallows tree, left there as a warning to those who would make be Robin Hood. For most filmmakers, trying to make anything other than the well-worn nineteenth century epics is nigh on impossible. We do not live in a world where the locations, the costumes, or even the actors are available for a convincing recreation of the past, and when this is so close to impossible it is understandable that the vast majority of script writers and directors choose to give up, rather than try, knowing that all they will do is reduce the story they want to tell to slapstick comedy for a cynical audience to point out the places where the wrists watches are showing on the extras. Part of the UGO network .