I’ve been thinking about what inclusiveness really means in
the film industry.
Film and television have a powerful influence on how we see
the world, including how we understand history, other cultures and ourselves.
I’ve noticed a growing emphasis on what is often called wokeness in
entertainment, and I sometimes wonder whether the industry’s approach to
inclusiveness reflects what inclusion should really mean.
To me, genuine inclusiveness means giving people from
different backgrounds opportunities to participate, tell their stories and have
their cultures represented fairly. It means making room for different
experiences, ideas and perspectives, particularly those that have been
overlooked in the past.
But does inclusiveness mean changing the people and cultures
within an established historical story to meet modern expectations?
I don’t believe it should.
What does inclusiveness really mean?
Inclusiveness is about deliberately including people from a
wide range of backgrounds, especially those who might otherwise be excluded or
marginalised, and treating them fairly.
It does not automatically mean changing documented
historical events or presenting a historical setting in a way that differs
substantially from the world in which the story originally took place.
I believe people from different backgrounds should have
opportunities to work in film and television. Audiences should also be able to
see a wide range of cultures, experiences and perspectives represented on
screen.
Lately I have been wondering whether the emphasis on
representation has become more about ticking boxes, meeting targets or
satisfying award criteria than about creating meaningful stories.
When that happens, people risk being treated as categories
rather than individuals. Representation can begin to feel artificial rather
than genuine.
True inclusion should make room for everyone, but it
should not mislead audiences about the history a production claims to portray.
When historical casting changes the story
In recent historical and period productions, we have seen
actors from backgrounds that differ from those traditionally associated with
the historical settings being portrayed.
One example is Helen of Troy in adaptations of Homer’s Iliad
and related Greek mythology. Helen is described in ancient Greek poetry as leucoxenes,
commonly translated as “white-armed”. This is a poetic description associated
with female beauty in ancient Greek literature, although it should not be
treated as definitive proof of her precise skin colour.
Nevertheless, when a production presents ancient Greek
mythology in a recognisably historical setting, casting choices can affect how
audiences imagine the people and society of that period.
A similar question arises with historical dramas set during
the Russian Revolution. When a production depicts early twentieth-century
Moscow, audiences may reasonably expect the characters and their surroundings
to reflect the historical society being portrayed.
I am aware that not every production aims to recreate the past
faithfully. Some deliberately reinterpret familiar stories, and creative
casting can be part of that approach.
My concern is not that actors should be restricted to
playing only people who share their own background. It is whether a production
is clear about what it is trying to achieve.
There is a difference between saying, “This is a modern
interpretation of an ancient story,” and presenting a production in a way that
encourages viewers to believe they are seeing an accurate representation of
history.
That distinction matters because film and television can
shape our understanding of the past, particularly when viewers have little knowledge
of the period.
Why not tell more stories?
I believe there is a better, more meaningful way to approach
inclusiveness: tell more stories.
Rather than continually reshaping established historical narratives
to meet modern expectations, why not invest in stories about cultures and communities
whose experiences have too often been overlooked?
America, for example, could bring more Native American
histories to the screen, with Indigenous characters at the centre of their own
stories. There is also an extraordinary wealth of material in African American
history, Asian cultures and the histories of Indigenous peoples around the
world.
My own Greek heritage offers rich possibilities. The
Byzantine era and the Greek War of Independence both helped shape the nation
Greece is today. Australia also has a little-known connection to that struggle:
a group of Greek sailors, convicted of piracy during the revolution, were
transported to New South Wales. Stories like these could introduce audiences to
fascinating histories they may never have encountered.
Australia’s Indigenous cultures also hold some of the
world’s oldest and richest storytelling traditions. Stories grounded in the
Dreaming offer immense creative possibilities, provided they are developed with
the participation, guidance and authority of the communities to which they
belong.
Moana showed that a
story rooted in Polynesian culture could connect with a vast international
audience. Viewers embraced a film that welcomed them into a cultural world many
had not seen represented on screen before.
Why not build on that success?
There is enormous creative potential in exploring different
histories, traditions, achievements and struggles. Audiences could discover unfamiliar
worlds, while the people whose cultures are represented could have a stronger
voice in shaping how those stories are told.
To me, that is inclusion at its most meaningful: not changing
the people in someone else’s historical story to suit the present but creating genuine
opportunities for more communities to tell stories of their own.
Creativity, history and artistic freedom
Inclusiveness in the Film Industry: Are We Telling New
Stories or Rewriting Old Ones?
I am not arguing that every historical film must be a
perfect reconstruction of the past. Nor do I believe actors should only ever
play characters who look exactly as they would have looked in a particular
historical setting.
Artists have always reimagined stories. Shakespeare adapted
earlier works, myths have been retold across generations, and filmmakers are
entitled to interpret familiar material in new ways.
But where is the line between creative interpretation and
rewriting history?
When we look thousands of years into the past, we cannot
know everything about how people lived. We reconstruct ancient civilisations
from what has survived: ruins, pottery, coins, inscriptions, artwork,
buildings, tools and fragments of written records.
Historians use this evidence to build the best possible
understanding of people and cultures that existed long before us.
Film can help us imagine those worlds, but it can also blur
our understanding of them.
I believe producers should be honest about what they are
creating. If a production deliberately reimagines history, there is nothing
wrong with making that intention clear. If it presents itself as a historically
grounded story, then historical evidence should matter.
The past should not simply become an empty canvas on which
we impose whatever the present would like it to look like.
Truthfulness and transparency matter, particularly when
entertainment also serves as an informal source of historical knowledge.
Hollywood needs more original stories
Another concern I have is the apparent reliance on familiar
franchises, remakes and reimagining.
I miss the films of earlier decades, such as The Sound of
Music, Camelot and Singin’ in the Rain. They had their own distinctive
settings, musical traditions and storytelling styles. I also remember films
such as Schindler’s List, which told a harrowing story from the Second World
War and carried a profound message.
These films are very different from one another, but each
had a distinctive identity.
I sometimes wonder whether today’s emphasis on
representation and established franchises has come at the expense of original
storytelling. There are talented writers, actors and filmmakers from many
backgrounds, yet I would like to see more opportunities for them to create
something new rather than continually revisiting familiar properties.
There has been speculation over the years about changing
James Bond’s gender or ethnic background. Ian Fleming created Bond as a
particular character, with a specific identity and history.
Why not create a new spy franchise instead?
Imagine a compelling spy film centred on a woman, or a hero
from a different cultural background, with their own history, motivations and
world. Such a character could be just as interesting as James Bond without
having to replace him.
That would give writers greater creative freedom and
audiences something new to discover.
It would also allow established characters to retain their
original identities while opening the door to a much wider range of stories.
To me, that is where genuine inclusiveness and creativity
can work together.
Inclusion should make the storytelling world bigger
I do not oppose inclusiveness. I welcome opportunities for
people from different backgrounds to participate in the film industry and share
their experiences.
But I am concerned when inclusion appears to become a policy
of representation rather than a commitment to meaningful storytelling.
People are more than labels, and cultures are more than
categories. We should not assume that an actor’s background alone determines
which stories they can tell, nor should we assume that every audience wants the
same approach to representation.
What matters is giving talented people opportunities,
respecting cultural differences and allowing a wider range of stories to reach
the screen.
There is room for historical dramas, imaginative
adaptations, fantasy and contemporary stories. These approaches do not have to
compete with one another. The important thing is that audiences understand what
they are watching and that filmmakers have the freedom to create something
meaningful.
And perhaps respecting history, even when it is
uncomfortable or unfamiliar, is itself a form of inclusion: inclusion of the
people who lived it.
For me, the question is not whether everyone should be
included. Of course they should.
The question is how we include people without reducing
them to categories, ticking boxes or erasing the particularity of the stories,
cultures and histories that already exist.
True inclusiveness should make the storytelling world
bigger, not simply rewrite the stories that are already there.
It means telling new stories, supporting writers and
filmmakers from different backgrounds, and allowing cultures to speak through
their own histories and experiences.
If we want representation to be sincere, it must be guided
by truth, creativity and respect, rather than simply by the desire to tick a
box.
I would love to hear your thoughts.
Do you enjoy seeing actors cast in historical roles when
their backgrounds differ from the historical setting, or would you prefer to
see more original stories that represent a wider range of cultures and
experiences?