A still from the movie JFK featuring a scene with (from left to right) Michael Rooker, Kevin Costner, and Jay O. Sanders
The aura of authority effervesced by scholarly tomes released by reputable publishers can be quite misleading. The alteration, selection, and biased interpretation of facts is not restricted to artists: journalistic and historical writing is replete with inaccurate and propagandistic works by establishment historians and unorthodox mavericks alike. This is not to say that JFK is more authoritative than various non-fictional books on the subject, or that a motion picture and a book are equivalent.
A dramatic film, which by its very nature is forced to condense and alter events in order to project a coherent narrative, is more likely to be imprecise than a history text with footnotes, references, and indices. But a film is able to connect a viewer with the past far more powerfully than a written text can. For what does a text do but attempt to paint a picture for the mind’s eye, and describe events which were often not textual in nature? A film can use costumes, sets, and sounds which in a matter of seconds can convey the atmosphere and environment of a bygone era — something which a written text cannot do with the same degree of intensity.
In the final analysis, each work must be approached on its own merits. As Stone wrote in the valuable collection of essays edited by Robert Brent Toplin titled Oliver Stone’s USA: Film, History, and Controversy (University Press of Kansas, 2000): “[…] ultimately it is you, the student of history, who should read for yourself and discover what is true. Never base your views on one movie, one historian, one dramatist, one ideology, or one perception, no matter how seductive or convincing the messenger. Life is far too ambiguous.”
Stone himself provided a good place to start: shortly after the film’s release came JFK: The Book of the Film (Applause Books, 1992). This tome contains a documented version of the screenplay by Stone and co-writer Zachary Sklar, the annotations consisting of notes and references to sources which formed the basis for many key scenes and assertions in the film. The book also includes a number of official government documents, and a bibliography of assassination literature. But its most valuable feature is the reproduction of almost a hundred contemporary articles consisting of commentary and criticism that the film provoked, with authors ranging from former President Gerald R. Ford to Stone himself.
Reading these pieces is a dialectical instruction in history-writing (and myth-making). A seemingly devastating deconstruction of JFK’s factual errors in one article is followed by a cogent defence of the film’s position in the next, which is then followed by further criticism and defence. Back and forth the invective flies, until one realises that too many of the prominent writers on this subject have a poor grasp of the facts, and that in order to dispel the ambiguity one must begin to tackle the assassination literature itself.
However, this is no small endeavour, for there are hundreds of books on the subject and millions of pages of official documents. To read the two books that informed the screenplay — Garrison’s On the Trail of the Assassins (Sheridan Square, 1988) and Jim Marrs’ Crossfire: The Plot That Killed Kennedy (Carroll & Graf, 1989; revised edition Basic Books, 2013), is to only begin an interminable — but enlightening — journey through the 20th century and the forces that helped shape it: the Cold War, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Vietnam War, the CIA, the FBI, the KGB, the Mafia, the military-industrial complex, and so much else that reveals the ‘parapolitical’ underside of world events. As some have noted, the Kennedy assassination is a Rosetta Stone of American politics.
The lasting impact of *JFK*
While films can and often do stoke controversy and even violence, few of them can claim to have had an impact in the political arena. But whatever the merits or demerits of JFK’s interpretation of history, the political consequences resulting from its release are undeniable. The National Archives received an increased number of public requests to view evidence related to the assassination. Books on the Kennedy murder reached the New York Times bestseller lists.
Eventually the furore around the film induced Congress to pass new legislation; the resulting Assassination Records Review Board released millions of previously classified documents which would otherwise have not been made available until well into the 21st century. Some of this new material supported claims by Stone and Garrison, while other material disproved some of their contentions. And in the years since then more books have been written about the assassination as a new generation of researchers has tried to deal with the voluminous new documentation.
Few films can claim to have produced such a result, largely because few directors would have tried to tackle the subject on such an epic scale. Before JFK a number of films had discussed the Kennedy assassination in one way or another: Executive Action (1973), The Parallax View (1974), Winter Kills (1979), and Flash Point (1984), for example. But all of these films fictionalised details to the point of plausible deniability, incorporated improbable plot elements, or were simply unengaging.
While Stone did fictionalise, he also did not hesitate to name names, and stylistically his film has found few detractors. Indeed, the film was a strong influence on another epic biopic also released by Warner Brothers: Spike Lee’s masterful Malcolm X (1992). Using form to mirror content, JFK is a complex and multi-layered work, using several different film stocks, overlapping soundtracks, and recurrent flashbacks to convey the tangled reality of its subject, just as the frequent use of glinting and reflective surfaces hints at what CIA officer James Jesus Angleton once referred to as the “wilderness of mirrors”.
The historian, according to Aristotle, relates what has happened, while the poet what could happen, for which reason poetry is more philosophical than history. In the years since JFK, Stone has continued to engage in political filmmaking, with numerous, straightforward documentaries now to his credit (such as the informative, 12-hour long series The Untold History of the United States [2012]). But in JFK, Stone bridged the sometimes artificial dichotomy between fact and fiction to create one of the most cinematographically advanced and politically powerful films ever made, for which students of art — and history — owe him a debt.
The author is an antiquarian and freelance writer.
Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, November 6th, 2016