Maybe I've been blogging too long (or maybe it's OCD or something and I was this way before I started blogging) but I just have "issues" whenever I see something that's obviously wrong -- especially if it involves history.

Last night I saw an otherwise very enjoyable French film, Moliere. Normally, I'm not much of a fan of French films, but since Moliere is their guy and I like Moliere, I was willing to make an exception. Especially because speculative historical fiction can be fun. The problem comes when the speculation crosses the line between factual speculation and factual impossibilities requiring the suspense of all disbelief.

Where that line is, I'm not exactly sure. We all know, for example, that gladiators don't wear wristwatches. That muskets cannot be fired repeatedly without reloading. That revolvers cannot fire 20 rounds without reloading. Such things are so annoying as to be just plain crass.

On the crassness scale, the film Marie Antoinette went beyond semi-automatic flintlock muskets, by playing contemporary American music -- not as background but as actual music to which the cast danced at an 18th Century masquerade ball. ("1980s New Wave and post-punk artists such as New Order, The Cure, and Bow Wow Wow represent the music that accounts for the bulk of the soundtrack.") Suspending disbelief with Jason and the Argonauts or Harry Potter is one thing. But 18th century New Wave and post-punk? Sorry; it's just too ridiculous. Nor was it intended as surrealism or fantasy; it just struck me as tacky and contrived. Above all it was condescending -- as if they were trying to make history cool so that "young people" could "relate"! (Ugh.) I can relate to contemporary music, as well as period music. But if any musical mix-and-match goes, why not have Louis XVI's courtiers dancing to Glenn Miller swing, or George Washington and Thomas Jefferson to hip-hop? (Might as well ditch the coach and have Marie riding in a Jaguar!)

While I would never have seen Marie Antionette had I been warned about the music, what irritates me now is to read that critics actually liked the idea:

The critical discussion surrounding the film often deals nearly as much with the filmmaker's choice of a "modern" soundtrack as it does with any other aspect of the film. While a film's soundtrack certainly contributes to the manner in which a film is perceived - in this case, the critical preoccupation stems largely from the fact that her choice of songs represent a strong departure from the more "historically accurate" music found in most Period films. In fact some critics have called the inclusion of modern music Coppola's "bravest move"[3] in the film. Regardless, the music does manage to assert itself prominently in the film itself. "

It's also worth noting parenthetically that Marie Antoinette did not frivolously and disloyally abandon her little dog at the French border as the film portrays her doing. Quite the opposite; she seems to have put up a stink with the French authorities to keep her dog:

She is informed that when she leaves her country, she can take nothing of her own with her --- none of her favorite servants, or personal possessions, or even her clothes. At first her mother tells her that she can't even take her dog, Schnitzy; but she begs for him, and the French and Austrian officials change their minds about that.

In terms of historical butchery and prevarication, Moliere certainly didn't go as far as Marie Antoinette. But considering even the small amount I know about the history of technology, it did cross a certain line with the giant glass windowpanes! I could handle the idea of Moliere peeping into a girl's room at night, but must he peep through windows which weren't invented yet?

Moliere died in 1673. The bankruptcy which generated the film's theme occurred in 1645:

Historians differ as to who bailed him out, his father, or perhaps the lover of a member of the troupe; either way after a brief (4 week) stint in gaol he returned to the acting circuit with perhaps a little more sobriety.

But this means that the events in the film (whatever they were) occurred in the 1640s, in the home of a well-off gentleman to which Moliere is brought for purposes of domestic intrigue. It didn't take long for me to notice (and be annoyed by) the windows. They were huge, and made of modern-looking flat glass. There was no way to avoid them, for Moliere shinnies up and down from the third floor and peers into a young woman's window, only to have the shade closed and ruin his view. There's just no way windows like that could have existed in the 1640s.

Lead wasn't added to glass until the 1670s, and plate glass was not invented until decades later:

In 1688, in France, a new process was developed for the production of plate glass, principally for use in mirrors, whose optical qualities had, until then, left much to be desired. The molten glass was poured onto a special table and rolled out flat. After cooling, the plate glass was ground on large round tables by means of rotating cast iron discs and increasingly fine abrasive sands, and then polished using felt disks. The result of this "plate pouring" process was flat glass with good optical transmission qualities. When coated on one side with a reflective, low melting metal, high-quality mirrors could be produced.

In 1688, France improved the production of plate glass, a technique used in the construction of mirrors. By pouring molten glass onto specially designed tables and polishing it with felt disks, French artisans were able to create high-quality glass with remarkable optical properties. One of the greatest creations with this new found technique is the famous Hall of Mirrors in Palace of Versailles.

Additional historical time lines here and here. The most technologically advanced glass a rich gentleman could have had would have been either crown glass or blown sheet glass, both of which would have showed many irregularities, and would have been far smaller than the large, flat, perfectly clear panes Moliere is shown gazing through. He's looking through a modern window, and he would have been looking through something like the window on the left.

So, in terms of the reality of glass technology, the film is many years out of whack. Other than that, I liked it. (A lot more than Marie Antoinette.)