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King Arthur: My How We Laughed

Ah well. I had to do it. I’ve got a vested interest, after all, having just written and produced my own fiction on this subject. And I know it’s fiction so it’s a little harsh of me to snipe at someone else’s fiction about the same. But…

To the Broadway Cinema, Letchworth, yesterday, with the Bechstein. There to view the Touchstone blockbuster 'King Arthur'. Reportedly the subject of detailed research: ‘the untold true story which inspired the legend’. The first film about Arthur that places him in the Dark Ages – around the time the Romans were leaving Britain, no less.

A must-see, really, if you’ve just written a book that attempts to do the same thing. So let’s compare notes…

I know: movies are about story-telling, not historical accuracy. The same as novels. ‘Arthur was a Roman general’ probably seemed enough when the idea was first pitched to Touchstone. Brilliant. Original. And hey – it ties in with the archaeology, right? We can use that…

Then the script development starts. Someone – writer, producer, or whoever stumped up the production money – gets hold of Howard Reid’s ‘Arthur the Dragon King’, which casts Arthur as a mercenary warrior from the steppes of Asia. Interesting book, plausibly argued, but looks just a tad shaky when you stack it up against the wealth of archaeology and academic research that favours Arthur as a native Briton. A tradition that can be traced back to pre-Norman times, and nobody even mentioned Sarmatians till the year 2000…

Let’s continue the script development. Who shall we cast as Guinevere? Kiera Knightly’s hot (in so many ways). She’d look great in one of those flowing medieval robes, right? Then someone else pops up with the nugget of information that Pictish women were supposed to have gone into battle naked (maybe). Wow, that’s great. Of course we couldn’t do naked, but we could wrap her in some scanty leather thongs. Better make her a Pict…

Hang on a mo. The Picts were Scottish, weren’t they? No problemo, guys – lovely locations up there. Wouldn’t have to spend so much money dressing up the English countryside to look Post-Roman. And there’s that great Hadrian’s Wall thing they used in ‘Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves’. Didn’t that have something to do with the Romans?

Now at this point our writer’s ears prick up. Because he has been doing some research, of course. And he knows very well that there’s a school of thought (in Scotland) that rather likes Arthur having a Scottish power base. Just as the Welsh and Cornish prefer him in their neck of the woods (all conveniently forgetting there were no national or county boundaries in the Dark Ages anyway). But hey, there’s this Roman fort on Hadrian’s Wall called Camboglanna, which might have been Camelot (Arthur’s home) or Camlann (Arthur’s last battle). Or something. And we’re trying to tie Arthur in with the Romans, right?

And the Romans are leaving Britain? The frontier outpost of the Empire? So we could have them all hiding behind the wall as the barbarian hordes approach. And we could have a Roman frontier outpost beyond the wall which Arthur and his homies have to rescue before the barbarians arrive. Perfect. Sort of like ‘The Alamo’ meets ‘The Magnificent Seven’. In fifth century Britain - sorry, Scotland, or whatever it’s called. We’ll put this frontier outpost at the bottom of a valley, without apparent defences and a garrison of only six troopers, so our heroes look properly outnumbered, right? Of course we will…

Now then. About these barbarians. Who’s sweeping down from the North? Can’t be the Picts (who actually did sweep down from the North and were the main reason the wall was built in the first place) because we’ve cast Guinevere as a Pict. Great costume, remember? She’s on Arthur’s side, so it’ll have to be the Saxons…

Writer breathes a sigh of relief at this point. This is the enemy Arthur's always supposed to have fought. In fact we’ve got genuine writing from the 6th and 7th century that documents a lengthy guerrilla war between the Britons and the Saxons. Only one snag. Touchstone’s Saxon army is supposed to be sweeping down from the North. And all the archaeological and written evidence has the Saxons raiding along the East coast of the British Isles, about as far North as Yorkshire. Which is rather a long way South of Hadrian’s Wall.

What the hey. Great wall, lovely scenery, Guinevere’s a Pict. Stick the Saxons up there, no-one’ll ever notice. Blur the edges a bit by calling the Picts ‘Woads’. That’ll explain all that blue paint on their faces. Just like that Mel Gibson ‘Braveheart’ thing that made all that money a few years back. Always a crowd-pleaser, that blue paint…

Now let’s look at the characters. Hey those knights had great names, right? Lancelot, Gawain, Bors, Tristan, Galahad, Merlin. Got to get them in there somewhere…

At this point our writer’s squirming a bit, knowing full well that all these names are part of the medieval tradition, and the only ones you have a hope of tracing back to the post-Roman Dark Ages are Arthur and Guinevere. You can trace Tristan back to Cornwall, about a half-century later, but we’ve decided by now that Tristan’s this really cool, James Coburn-like character with a tame eagle who has to die at the hands of the big bad Saxon leader, so we’d better ignore the possibility that Tristan may not even have known Arthur, let alone fought with him.

And we’ve got to have Lancelot, even though he’s the least likely to be an actual historical figure. A love triangle always plays well in the movie houses. Even if you have to reduce it to a little passing flirting in order to make room for the battles.

As for Merlin, it wouldn’t be right to have an Arthur film without him. Never mind that you can’t trace his name back much further than the 7th century with any clarity: he’d look good in blue paint. We’ll make him a Pict too…

Writer breathes a sigh of relief and scribbles hasty notes. Picts are Barbarians, Romans are Christians. Ergo, Merlin has to be a Pict. Then he can wander round the Scottish woodland looking mysterious and druid-like. Without actually doing any magic or anything – after all we’re supposed to be historically accurate here. Apart, that is, from the names and the location and Arthur’s origins and the enemy and the time frame…

Time frame? Hey, we got that one on the button, guys. The Romans leave Britain in the fifth century, so that’s when we’ll make it happen. We’ll even put a date on the screen right at the start of the film. A date that’s right smack dab in the middle of the fifth century. That way there’ll be no doubt whatsoever.

AD 450. Plus fifteen years to allow Lancelot to grow up and shoehorn in that great scene on the Russian steppes.

Here’s our writer, whipping out the blue pencil yet again. Knowing full well from his researches that the Emperor Honorius wrote to the cities of Britain in 410, instructing them to look to their own defences. After that date, Britain isn’t a Roman colony at all. It’s a Roman society, rapidly going to ruin in the face of the Barbarian invasions, and its people are British, maintaining contact with Rome primarily through the church.

And the only two listed dates in any of the Dark Age histories that mention Arthur are 516 (the battle of Badon) and 537 (the battle of Camlann). That’s an awfully long time after the Romans have left the building.

Oh well, says our writer, tearing up his notes. Dates in Dark Age histories are notoriously hard to substantiate. It’s all about story and characterisation, right? Oh, and great scenery…

Now how are we going to end this film, guys? Better be a happy ending, so we’ll close with a wedding. A wedding conducted by Merlin (a pagan), between Guinevere (also a pagan) and Arthur (a Christian). Guinevere in flowing Pre-Raphaelite white, natch.

Never mind the religious differences, and the fact that there were plenty of Christian churches in which the new king of the Britons might choose to wed the woman of his dreams. We’ve got two pagans in this scene, so we’ll set it in a pagan location.

Whassatmean, guys? What looks pagan?

I know! Stonehenge.

The writer, despairing, mutters something about Stonehenge being in Wiltshire.

Never you mind, old son. We’ll relocate it to Scotland. We’ll put it on the clifftops so we can end by firing some more flaming arrows over the ocean. For no particular reason other than the flaming arrows seem to have played particularly well in viewing the battle scene rushes.

Stonehenge-by-the-Sea. The writer falls silent, dreaming of many Martinis.

Which just about covers it. Except to mention:

- The stirrups (which Roman cavalry probably didn’t use)

- The Saxon warlord. Who totally stole the show, and gave a pretty accurate portrayal (to this writer at least) of the kind of character Arthur really might have been…