To all ye men, women and children of Nottingham, and particularly to you, Sheriff Otto Batthurst.

You may know me under many names and guises - perhaps through my Adventures as Errol Flynn, as a Prince of Thieves as Kevin Costner, my humble self as Russell Crowe, or even my fashionable tights by Mel Brooks. But your portrayal of me in your "Robin Hood Origins" is a stain upon the honour of our merry band and my very legend, a film so poor that all the gold in England would not save it from its nearly $20 million box office loss or its numerous Raspberry nominations.

Let me begin by saying that I hardly recognise myself. Not because of the youthful face of Taron Egerton, nor the bizarrely exotic archery forced into the film for no reason other than to capitalise on a viral video, nor the strangely modern fashion that does away with my renowned Lincoln green and replaces it with dark coats you would find in a 21st century wardrobe, but merely because I did know who this "Rob" character was.

Perhaps my memory of my supposed involvement in the Crusades was hazy. To the best of my knowledge, the campaigns of Richard the Lionhearted against Saladin involved a brave march along the coast, continually pelted by arrows from the Saracens, until the mostly Frankish forces under Richard turned to fight at Arsuf and overwhelmed the Saracen army with a mighty cavalry charge.

And yet, your portrayal of the great Crusade seemed to have more in common with the streets of Baghdad and Fallujah. At first I believed the house-to-house urban fighting to be a stretch of the imagination, but then the machine gun/arrow launchers and explosions made me question whether I was watching Black Hawk Down. Indeed, some of the later acrobatic antics of "Rob" seemed more fitting for Kingsman.

Let's not forget your portrayal of the Home Front - or the fact that there was even a home front. I vaguely recall that my legendary adventures were centered on my band of merry men robbing the rich and giving to the poor, not an antifa uprising in the streets of Nottingham against guards armed with riot gear, automatic pistol crossbows and...is that a tank?!

The only Foxx in a Robin Hood film should be the one Disney used. The only thing your big budget got you was a load of rotten tomatoes.

I might be the outlaw, but you clearly stole from me.

- R. Hood

Hi everyone, I graduated 2 years ago with a B.A. in Communications. To make a LONG story short, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to with my life during college, and Comms just became a default.

My final year, I began to develop a passion for history. I began to think I should switch my major over to History even if meant adding on another semester or two, but everyone in my life (family, advisors) told me I shouldn't, and unfortunately, I listened to them.

I'm looking at various area studies M.A.s, and would like to get a History PhD eventually. Is it too late, though? Will I be taken seriously as an applicant for a History PhD without that background?

I have come here with a simple ask, Mr. Nolan. I watched in awe and admiration as you told the heroic story of our brave soldiers during a dramatic turning point in that great tragedy, the Second World War, in your mutli-award-winning motion picture “Dunkirk.” I was impressed by the care and attention you gave to those heroic boys and men on the beach, on the water, and in the air. My entreat is that you take your gifts, that remarkable talent you have for storytelling, and the same structure and apply them to a similarly dramatic day, March 3, 1913.

It is my understanding that one of the subplots that you so deftly wove together in your movie began one week before the events on the beach. I do not think it is possible to capture in words the energy and collaboration that filled the air just seven days before that auspicious date. This is why I am calling upon you to remake “Dunkirk” but about Woman Suffrage Procession, the first massive political march in our nation’s capital. You see, the week before, the orderly streets of the city were filled with my fellow suffragists. Our sisterly bond was strong enough to fill the air and stir the hearts of even those who saw us as nothing more than a nuisance. The wives of our country’s politicians joined our efforts, not to abandon their wifely and motherly duties, but to work towards to goal of being better wives and better mothers. After all, how much good can a wife and mother be if she cannot use her innate talents to shape the direction of our country through her vote? The cafes and parlors of Washington, D.C. practically overflowed as we gathered in preparation. We planned. We strategized. We argued. And isn’t the work of suffrage for all the women of our great country worthy of the same attention as the light that is shone upon the horrors of war? We threw our bodies into the fight, much like those boys and men. My body still carries the evidence of the harm cast down upon me for demanding that which I am entitled to as an American. There are more than enough stories from that week for you to choose from. Other directors have referenced that wonderful, fateful day (I shall not mention it by name but only say one such film referenced a metal and the shape of our faces and I did not approve. It was "Iron-Jawed Angels." I hated it.) and missed the mark. I trust you to do better.

One day before. It is also my understanding that when an esteemed director such as yourself sets to work crafting a motion picture, you have access to experts. Expert costumers who will be able to capture the remarkable sight of thousands of women, marching together, resplendent in our dresses and sashes. Your costumers will surely give care to the colors we chose for our clothing on that day, understanding that we were not focused on what flattered each individual woman, but to communicate we were a rainbow, emerging from that dark night of disenfranchisement. I also understand you’ll have access to a team who will carefully and thoughtfully select women to portray myself and my dear beloved friends, sisters of my heart, such as the brilliant author Miss Helen Keller, the graceful and talented dancer and our choreographer Miss Florence Fleming Noyes, the politicians Miss Jeannette Rankin, Miss Charlotte Anita Whitney, and so many more. The ever-forward-thinking philanthropist, Mrs. Katharine McCormick who should be known to every woman who would control the rate at which she had children. I could go on for days about my sisters who deserve to have their names and faces up on that large screen. Your trusted crew could tell how we spend that last day building the grandstand with our hands. How we practiced the various tableaux that would unfold during the process. Put the final touches on the floats that told the history of the fight for suffrage. How we celebrated with the marchers from New Zealand, Norway, Finland, and Australia – our sisters from abroad who already had the power of suffrage. Oh, Mr. Nolan. It was a day of beauty beyond compare. Beyond words.

One hour before the Woman Suffrage Procession began, my beloved friend and confident Mrs. Inez Milholland mounted her magnificent horse, “Gray Dawn” and took her place at the head of our procession. I rushed about, finalizing the details and alas, much of that hour is lost to memory and time. I know, though, I am not perfect. I made mistakes. I had the opportunity to meet with the esteemed Mrs. Ida Wells-Barnett and I am ashamed to say I did not take it. The most visually striking part of your narrative, Mr. Nolan, was the image of that handsome, young pilot having to make a difficult choice, miles from home, unable to see the full scope of what was unfolding around him. I connected most with him as I was likewise unable to see the full picture. I did not understand the impact of my actions would have on the Black women who marched with us. I did not recognize my focus on suffrage for me and my white sisters failed my Black sisters. My Native sisters, first of this nation. My Chinese sisters, thousands of miles from home. My sisters on our Southern border, ever caught between the boundaries of two countries and two languages. My sisters trapped in institutions of whose horrors must be told. I shall speak no more on my faults but trust you to see them and bring them to light, in the same way you told that pilot’s story.

I am appealing to you not because I think a man filmmaker can better tell the story of that day than a woman filmmaker. I am not a naïve sort, Mr. Nolan. I know you have had access to budgets larger than that of nearly all women filmmakers combined. I understand you have the ear of studio heads in a way no woman director does. I come to you because you have talent and power. You also recognize that inequities of the world around us and as such, I expect you to hire the finest women costumers, women carpenters, women “best boys” (what an odd name for one who works with their hands) and I expect that when I visit your set, I will be surrounded by women creators and see that you have not only told the story of the glorious Woman Suffrage Procession held on March 3, 1913 but you will have learned from our lessons, and our mistakes.

Yours in solidarity – Miss Alice Paul

Edit to add: My hunch is that some people are downvoting this post as they were disappointed to see it wasn't actually about "Dunkirk." In my defense, the act of putting herself directly in front of the men she wanted to convince to support her cause was a common tactic of so-called "militant" American feminists like Alice Paul. She worked to make herself unmistakable and unmissable, including showing up in places she wasn't expected or welcome.

Comrades! You must understand it is not easy for me to make this request, because it is such a joyous occasion. However, I consider it only just that we honor our heroic Metro builders with an eternal monument, one which will ensure that their names and superhuman feats are remembered forever.

[applause]

Let us show, in this film, reality in its revolutionary development! (Which is to say, only the stuff that makes us look good.) Let us show how, against all the odds, with little to no preparatory work, and fighting the most impossible soil conditions, we Bolsheviks triumphed over nature, over the material world itself! (Little to no preparatory work except for all of the plans that we shelved in 1928 because it was politically convenient, and terrible soil conditions because we didn't actually get around to doing proper geological surveys.)

[applause]

Let it also show how, on the initiative of the young red engineer Makovsky and the assistance of my courageous deputy Nikita Khrushchev, we boldly decided to use the English method of tunnelling at great depth in order to complete the project with the utmost celerity and with no disruption of Moscow's normal traffic flow. (That is, after a year of disrupting Moscow's traffic flow by digging trenches in the street, and we only made the switch because we believed the geology at depth was more suited to digging and less waterlogged, which, in fact, it wasn't. But we powered through the terrible conditions anyways, because we are Bolsheviks, and we can do anything! Also, never mind the fact that Khrushchev and I are part of the Moscow Party Committee, and Makovsky works for Metrostroi under Pavel Rotert, which is technically subordinate to the Moscow City Committee and Nikolai Bulganin, not subordinate to me, so Makovsky actually went over Rotert's head and also it was part of this whole three-way power struggle between the City Committee, the Party Committee, and Metrostroi more generally, but this isn't relevant to the ultimate utopia of socialism so we'll leave it out.)

[applause]

Let this film also show the wise guidance of our glorious leader, Comrade Stalin, whose decisions were always made clearly and confidently, and reassured us and strengthened our respect for him and our belief in the ultimate victory of socialism. (Which is another thing, if I'm being honest, this whole construction process was so damn top-heavy I'm surprised it didn't fall over.) Myself, Comrades Khrushchev, Rotert, and Abakumov, and of course Comrade Stalin, all of us took extreme care to understand the problems of Metro construction and assist the engineers in their work. (By which I mean we all micro-managed the der'mo out of them.)

[applause]

We must also show the beauty and the good taste of all our Metro stations, which were designed completely independently (with no arm-twisting from me and Stalin, what do you mean) by genius architects freed to their full potential by the liberating force of Marxism-Leninism! (Of course this very narrow range of acceptable style proves that we allow the artist full creative freedom.) We must also show how each station refers to ancient Greece and Rome architectually, proving our cultural leadership and mastery of beauty. (Let's just forget the bit about how that was considered a bourgeois conception of beauty by the Cultural Revolutionaries — the important thing is, cultural leadership.)

[applause]

In the end, this film will show how, contrary what the bourgeois intellectual of the West believes, we socialists do not simply build barracks! We build palaces for the people! (Never mind how we focused on this over the housing crisis, and also had to build barracks to provide migrant workers a place to live. Although, to be fair, we actually were still working on building housing at this time, just not as the first priority, because we had a lot of construction to juggle. And the reason we focused on this over the housing crisis isn't that we're stupid, like some of Khrushchev's biographers will believe. It's because the Metro is a communal thing, and it allows the new Soviet man to attain an immediate interpersonal connection with his fellow citizens, which housing doesn't do.) The Metro shows us a future without the alienation of capital, without banality, without the mundane, where we truly understand both objects and living things as they really are — the Metro signifies a world of enlightenment!

[applause]

Glory to the heroic Metro builders, constructors of a new socialist country and a new capital worthy of the proletarian state! Constructors of the future!

[applause, cries of euphoria]

Although I don't think we should assign this film to Eisenstein. He's a little unreliable. And Vertov or Kuleshov? Are you crazy? Those avant-gardists? The entire reason the Metro has the aesthetic style that it does, is that it was to assert the boundaries of acceptable political and aesthetic discourse under Stalin I mean Marxism-Leninism, and that means no avant-garde! Maybe Pudovkin, he's more reliable.

I recently listened to part of an interview with Gerald Horne, wherein he characterised 1776 as a 'counter-revolution' by the wealthy colonists of the North American continent who wanted to remain independent from any rules or controls on their ability to accumulate wealth, such as growing anti-slavery sentiments in Britain.

Greetings /r/askhistorians participants! I am Banastre Tarleton!

For years my dear friends and even rare acquaintances have suggested that I partake in viewing a moving picture titled The Patriot by Roland Emmerich. They made me aware that there is a likeness to my own self with a character named Tavington? I have to say the name is nothing like mine, so I have doubted the assumption since the idea’s inception. Upon some research I discovered that Mel Gibson played the main character, Benjamin Martin, and is the star Patriot of the movie. I was shocked to learn that Gibson hails from the future penal colony of Australia. A brigand on stage!

Martin begins as a man of noble soul, a man who served his time in His Majesty’s army in the late war against the French, and hesitant to take up the musket once more. Only few can understand the resistance to pick up arms again after war ends. It is a shortly after this introduction that this Tavington fellow is brought into the fold. I ought to end my relations with my friends for thinking of me when they first witnessed this character. I am above insulted! I bear no likeness to this brute who has no genteel morals and scruples. Commissioned officers of His Majesty’s Britannic army have standards to uphold and save for that Fannings fellow, they were upheld throughout the war. Who will these authors base their next fictional villain on next? Perhaps another gentleman such as John Graves Simcoe. Oh, how disgusting that would be.

The Tavington character’s likeness to me must be based on falsehoods. I never committed atrocities such as these. Never put a torch near a church nor harmed the hair on a prisoner. The authors ought to have researched my journal on the campaign! They would have found that I acted wholly as a gentleman. I ensured protection of prisoners of war shortly after the battle near Camden when the American army routed for safety. My drive for victory against them was never personally but purely professional on a military level. During the war I held no sympathy for the rebel but I also held no hatred to him. I also wish to bring to light that the Earl Cornwallis never held ill will against me nor I to him. He became a mentor to me during the war and I had his constant support while in the Carolinas. Never did once lash out at me in the manners that the film suggests.

I found no surprise that the viewpoint of the picture focused on Martin as the reluctant hero of the American cause. I suppose over the years after the war ended I found some small inkling of sympathy for these rebellious Americans. May be not patriotic to the British government, but to their cause and future experiment in sovereignty. The authors of this entertainment left out any possibly sympathy or understanding of loyalist cause. It created a rather one-sided picture of fighting a war against a faceless and heartless enemy, which was not the case. Hearts and bodies bled on both sides for their cause. The Captain Wilkin’s character soured any attempt for the audience to gain sympathy for the loyalist cause. I have no iota of an idea what person he could be based on, other than the ancient and eternal ruffian who will do his master’s bidding of staining one’s hands with blood. His guilt over the atrocities on civilians led to no change in character and mattered not one bit. It left no effect on the plot and might as well never had appeared.

If possible, I must make a slight comment on the dress of the characters within. The clothing seemed a poor facsimile of what we wore then and nary a hat on most of the men. Of course, I attempted to enjoy the feature without these presumptuous nitpicks, but when they portray these costumes as the fashions of the era it must be protested – however, protested lightly. I scoffed at the author’s choice of giving the dragoons redcoats due to the possible confusion it may cause American audiences upon seeing green coats. I shall tell you from my own experience that Americans gave no confusion in differentiating my troops from their own in battle from the many times they pointed their weapons at me. Bah! Green jackets were a pride in my unit as well as our counterparts in the Queen’s Rangers. They will be a rather sharpe addition to the British army when fully established.

Martin is a likeable character and possibly reminds me of the certain figures I chased after in the Carolinas during the war. I admit that at certain times I cheered at some of his antics with delight, even if I thought they were too clever to be realistic. I cannot think of any deceitful acts that occurred in the war that in any part resembled Martin’s trickery. I do not discount his style of warfare as irregular and beneath the tactics of the British army as we certainly learned the craft in the previous war and is likely when Martin learned as well. Without guilt, I also admit a feeling of redemption witnessing Martin kill Tavington at the battle of…somewhere in the Carolina backcountry? Considering that I lived after the war for a few decades and this brute did not, I take it as the biggest degree of separation from my own person. However, I must critique Martin’s purpose in the war and the war itself. Martin held no motivation for war other than a burning revenge for loss. He exuberated much less spirit of the American cause than a patriot ought to show. The feature is not titled A Patriot but THE Patriot and Martin lacked any fervor or zeal for the much contested reasons for the war. Perhaps it was a mistake to give this film that title. May be A BackCountry Revenge: A Family Man’s War in the Carolinas during the late American War against the British would have been more appropriate for the film. This work of fantasy is out of bounds with the notions of the history and the understandings of the war. I surely hope they do not attempt a fantastical sequel to this refuse pile.

With the real truth, I am your obedient and humble servant,

Banastre Tarleton

Hon D Day-Lewis

Dear sir,

I have just come from the theater, where they are showing the moving picture show about Mr. Lincoln and the War. I am a little girl only 11 years old, but want you should win an Academy Award very much, so I hope you won't think me very bold to write to such a great man as you are. Have you any little girls about as large as I am? If so, give them my love and tell her to write to me if you cannot answer this letter. I have yet got four brothers and part of them will go and see your moving picture anyway, and if you were to make your face more hideous, I will try and get the rest of them to see it as well. You would look a great deal more like Mr. Lincoln for your face is so grand and handsome. All the ladies like your face, and as sure as spring follows winter they can't abide Mr. Lincoln's physiognomy, with his high forehead over those sadly pathetic eyes, the angular lower face with the deep cut lines about the mouth. He would look better if he wore whiskers, for his face is so thin. All the ladies like whiskers.

I have got a little baby sister. She is nine weeks old and is just as cunning as can be. I must not write any more. Answer this letter right off. Good bye.

Grace Bedell

WE RECEIVED WORD FROM OUR ALLIES THAT THE FEDERATED POLEIS OF AMERIKA PRODUCED A FILM ABOUT OUR BATTLE AT THERMOPYLAI! I HAVE WATCHED THIS FILM CALLED "300" AND IT IS NOTHING BUT RECKLESS SLANDER OF OUR LAWS, OF OUR CITIZENS, AND OF MYSELF! AND ALSO WHERE ARE ALL THE COLOURS!?

FIRST! I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE TITLE OF THIS FILM! I MARCHED OUT WITH ONE THOUSAND SPARTANS AND CALLED ON THE ALLIES TO SUPPLY THREE THOUSAND MORE! ADD THE CENTRAL GREEKS AND THERE WERE MORE THAN SIX THOUSAND OF US AT THE PASS!

WHEN I LED THEM I WAS NOT SOME YOUNG MAN WITHOUT SENSE! I WAS 50 WHEN I BECAME KING AND FOUGHT MY FIRST BATTLE AT THERMOPYLAI TEN YEARS LATER!

OUR VENERATED EPHORS ARE NOT INBRED MONSTERS BUT CITIZENS ELECTED ANNUALLY! THEIR JOB IS NOT RELIGIOUS BUT EXECUTIVE! THERE IS NO ORACLE AT SPARTA! WE SUBMIT OUR QUESTIONS TO THE ORACLE OF APOLLO AT DELPHI, WHERE BY ANCIENT CUSTOM THE PYTHIA IS A CRONE!

IT IS OUTRAGEOUS TO SUGGEST THAT I TOOK PART IN THE GRAVE SACRILEGE OF KILLING THE MESSENGERS OF THE GREAT KING! THIS CURSED ACT MAY POLLUTE OUR STATE, BUT NOT MY HOUSE!

THERE CAN BE NO GREATER INSULT THAN TO IMPLY THAT I MARCHED AGAINST THE WISHES OF THE EPHORS! AS SPARTIATES, OUR MASTER IS THE LAW! I AM VERY UNCOMFORTABLE MAKING MY OWN DECISIONS!

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS BABBLE ABOUT THE "PHALANX"! THIS WORD IS ONLY USED BY THE POETS TO SPEAK OF PRIMITIVE WARBANDS! OUR BATTLE FORMATION IS THE REDOUBTABLE TAXIS!

I NEVER SAID "COME AND GET THEM" AND IT WOULD BE PURE HUBRIS IF I HAD TAUNTED THE GREAT KING IN SUCH A WAY!

HOW DARE THIS MOVIE SUGGEST THAT SPARTANS WOULD FIGHT NAKED LIKE ATHLETES, WHEN IN FACT WE FINED THOSE WHO WENT INTO BATTLE UNPREPARED, EVEN WHEN THEY PERFORMED GREAT DEEDS!?

IT IS AN INTOLERABLE SLANDER TO SUGGEST THAT WE WOULD SUFFER A WOMAN TO ADDRESS OUR COUNCIL OF ELDERS, EVEN ONE AS VENERABLE AS MY NIECE/WIFE!

NO SPARTAN WOULD SPEAK TO A SURVIVOR OF THERMOPYLAI WHEN THE TRUE SPARTANS DIED IN GLORIOUS BATTLE! THE MEN I SENT AWAY WERE SO ASHAMED TO STILL DRAW BREATH THAT THEY KILLED THEMSELVES!

I COULD GO ON AND ON BUT I AM NOT ACCUSTOMED TO MAKING LONG SPEECHES LIKE SOME CHATTERING ATHENIAN! THIS SLANDEROUS ILL-INFORMED ANTI-SPARTAN PROPAGANDA WILL NOT STAND! AND SINCE WE SPARTANS ONCE DECLARED WAR ON ELIS FOR NOT LETTING US TAKE PART IN THE OLYMPIC GAMES, AND ON THEBES BECAUSE THEY WOULD NOT LET MY DESCENDANT SACRIFICE AT AULIS, IT SEEMS FAIR TO TAKE THIS SLIGHT AS A CAUSE FOR WAR! MUSTER YOUR SPEARMEN, FEDERATED POLEIS OF AMERIKA! WE WILL MEET YOU IN THE FIELD!

A tous ceux qui ces présentes verront, salut ! Nous, Jean de Bourgogne, dit Sans Peur (à juste raison !), nous proposons par cette lettre à nos féaux et dévoués serviteurs, de faire commentaire et glose desdites diaboliques images du Roi, qui se trouvoit sur l'honnie Netflix. Ayant grand soucy d'entente mutuelle avec nos amis Anglois, nous écriront en leur langue, par bonne charité chrestienne et amabilité de coeur. Nostre fils, bien amé Philippe, nous assistera en cette tasche pour ce qu'il parloit bien icelle langue.

Hello everyone, this is John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy. On this fine day I'll be reviewing the movie The King. Considering the need to appeal to our English neighbours, I've been convinced by my son Pilippe that I should write such review in your language. He does have a good understanding of it, although I don't know why he's got such an interest for you Brits but hey, I'll indulge him.

Since I'm supposed to meet with the Dauphin Charles soon in Montereau to discuss a peace and reconciliation, I figured I should have a look at the movie where he appears. I did notice some innacuracies in the depiction of the whole events and I'll try to correct that. On a totally unrelated note, does anyone knows to whom this Netflix family pledges its allegiance ? I have tens of idle cannons and a good thousand knights that need some good trampling job. Just asking.

Well first of all I must admit I had a good laugh watching that. It was quite the experience. Now, let me get this clear. The Dauphin isn't a close political ally. He's not someone I'm very fond of either, for political reason. But he's still my cousin and, I fear, he'll be my king someday. I do have to defend his honour. That's why I'm hereby challenging Sir David Michôt to a duel. If someone can tell me where he lives, I'll send him my gauntlet and we shall arrange a meeting to settle this matter. Charles behaves nothing like the way he's portrayed in these diabolical pictures. He's a reserved, almost shy person, hesitant and not overly courageous when it comes to battle. I've never heard of him approaching any kind of battlefield whatsoever. Futhermore, how do you expect the heir to the throne of France to travel nearly alone toward the ennemy ? Where is the rest of the embassy ? Where is the escort ? where are his knights and the men of his Hostel ? Where is this damn Tanguy du Chastel ? I hate this man, thinking of him alone gives me a headache^(1). The idea of the only son of the king strolling alone in the countryside near the English army of invasion is utterly ridiculous. I'll be sure to convey my opinion on the matter to Netflix. (Again, someone knows where I could send those cannons ?)

I noticed, too, that Netflix must be English. How else could we explain the blatant bias they demonstrate toward that gigantic pile of filth the usurper and so-called Henry V is ? I don't recall watching anything about the dozens diplomatic gestures he made toward me. No mentions of his envoys, his letters. Nowhere is it shown that he tried to take advantage of the unfortunate civil war that rages here in France. Since I sent them off properly, it might not have been glorious enough to mention. And that would have hurted the "I did nothing but got provoked" narrative, too. Is there any mention that he was so utterly out of touch with military matters that he tried and used siege towers at the siege of Harfleur ? SIEGE TOWERS, could you imagine that ? I laughed for three whole days when I learned it. No one is doing that anymore. Like, this is so XIVth century dude. And he had the great idea to encamp his army in the swamps, too ! Great success ! Half of his men dead or back to England thanks to dysentery in the firt month of the campaign is quite an achievment^(2).

Now, let's be honest. That Henry was, and I weight every word, "fils a putain, usurpateur, faulx chevalier, mauvais chrétien et très diabolique engance"^(3). You guessed it, we have to talk about Azincourt (not Agincourt, you damn Brits !). I don't know where this David Michôt is, but one thing is certain : he's not a knight. Far from it. He has no clue what a battle could look like, how a knight could fight and what a melee is. Never have I seen anyone so out of touch with reality, and I have had a theologian explain that me assasinating my nephew in cold blood was a christian act worthy of great praise. Let that sink in. Plenty has already been said about the battle itself and how it turned out, but something is strangely absent of Sir Michôt adaptation. I'm talking about the massacre.

Thousands of good French knights and gentilhommes were massacred on the field of battle after having given their faith to their ennemies. They were without arms and waiting peacefully and the so called "Knight King" had them slaughtered like pigs in a slaughterhouse. One of my brother died fighting in the battle. The other one was captured and his throat was cut off by some English low-life when he was unarmed, and un-armored even. I lost both my brothers in Azincourt, to a disgraceful man that pretends to be chivalrous. And he's a coward, too. I sent him my gauntlet, demanding reparation for this atrocity, but he sent it back with his apologies. The glorious Knight King prefered his political calculations and his miserable life over his honor. Let it be known.

Henry is a despicable, ruthless, faithless and honorless bastard and I hereby challenge him once more to a duel to the death to avenge the honor of my fallen brothers and the thousands of gallant knights that died disgracefully in Azincourt. I declare that David Michôt is an apologist paid by the usurper Henry and that he should be happy to have lived so long unbeknownst to me, for I now will send my faithful vassal, Jean de Luxembourg, to find and bring him to me so that he shall answer for this.

If either one has some form of honor or respectability, they shall answer my challenge. If not, I expect them to faire excuses sincères et amende honorable, à pied nus et en robe blanche, sans ornement aucun à l'imitation de Nostre Seigneur. Il marcheront, tête nue et en grande repentance, tout le chemin de nos braves chevaliers en ce jour d'octobre de l'année 1415. Ils bailleront alors bonne sépulture et grands honneurs aux corps enterrés en icelle place, ce jour et chaque jour ensuivant jusqu'à accomplissement ce ladite oeuvre. Ensuite de quoi feront bonne et ferme promesse de jamais prendre les armes contre le royaume de France et de rendre les terres qu'Henry y aura prises. Ils jureront de garder bonne paix pour toute éternité et feront dire chaque jour que Nostre Seigneur fait une grande messe en leur meilleure église pour mémoire et salut de nos preux. A ces conditions, moi, Jean sans Peur, duc de Bourgogne, accepterai leurs excuses et renonceraient à ma juste vengeance^(4).

Fait en notre bonne ville de Lille et signé de nostre Grand Sceau le premier jour du mois d'Avril de l'an de grâce quatorze cent et dix neuf.

^(1)Tanguy du Chastel killed John the Fearless with a axe blow to the head on 10th septembre 1419.

^(2)I have the felling my son is using some kind of "youth language" here. When I mentionned it he answered "OK boomer". Neither of us knows what that means, but he says it felt appropriate.

^(3)Son of a prostitute, usurper, false knight and very diabolical creature.

^(4)Make sincere apologies and excuses, barefoot and dressed in a white robe, without any ornement in the image of Our Lord. They whall walk, without a cap and repentant, all the way our brave knights did in this day of october 1415. They shall provide good sepultures and great honors to the bodies of the fallen buried in this place, that day and every day that follows until completion of the task. After this they shall make good and firm promises never to take arm against the kingdom of France again and Henry shall give back the lands he conquered. They shall swear to keep good peace for all eternity and they shall order masses be held in their best church for the memory and salvation of our brave knights until God's good time. At this conditions, I, John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy, shall I accept their excuses and renounce my rightful vengeance.

I've read that Linear B was primarily used for financial/record keeping, but that it (sparsely) does mention names and their (Mycaneans) religion, and I was curious if the Minoans or Crete was mentioned.

Additionally, are discoveries of Linear A writings, and are attempts at deciphering it, still being done?

It hast come to Oure notice þat a grette traytour known as "Mel Gibson" hast generated a "film" þat ys nothyng but calumnye towardes Oure grette auncestrie. To witte: he hast villiche disclaundre þe firste and secounde Eduoards of Oure line and misrewarded þe outlaue William Wallas. Þis wole not stonde!

Item firste, Wallas was an outlaue and a robbour bifor þe tresoun of þe Scottes.

Item secounde, þe schirref of Lanark dude notte sclee Wallas' wyf and þe skek was ontrewe. Moreouer, notte all Englisch were scleen, for Thomas Grey dude remaynyd.

Item þred, þeir was a pounte atte Stirling.

Item fowre, Oure prodessessour, þe secounde Eduoard, though a sodomyte and an unworþi kynge, was a perexcellent knyʒt, bolde and mightiful.

Item fyfþe, Oure alde mode, Isabella of Fraunce, was but þre when Gibson deceyuously pretenden þat Wallas got þe þred Eduoard on her.

Item sexte , Oure prodessessour, þe firste Eduoard, dude not sclee hys ouen putayle, for þat wulde be completely folisshe.

It ys clere þat þis "Mel Gibson" ys a traytour werkynge for þe Scottes and We shall haf hym drawn, hanged hedyd, quartered, and in diuers Counreys hure quarteres I-hanged vp in tokyn here of þis tresoun.

During the 2000's there wasn't really an official name for the conflicts in Iraq ane Afghanistan-- people just called it the war in Iraq or the war in Afghanistan. In recent years it has come to ge more or less accepted to call them the Iraq War or Afghanistan War.

For wars in the past like World War 1 and 2, did people call them WW1/2 when they were being fought or did those terms come later? If they came later, what were they called at the time they were happening?

Also, how do wars tend be come by their proper noun name in the first place?

Much has been written by the popular press on the European practice of eating Egyptian mummies. Yet all these accounts lack one crucial detail surely everyone must wonder. What do mummies taste like? Did anyone actually bother to write this down? Or is this information lost to time?

How did that change happen so quickly and why did it happen?

There's a lot of good discussion on this sub about why Market Garden failed* and what would have been the consequence if it succeeded. To me, the more interesting question is;

Why didn't the failure of MARKET GARDEN matter?

In multiple times, the Germans proved incapable of turning tactical or operational victories into strategic success. Was there a significant reason for that? Bureaucratic infighting? Unfamiliarity with proper defense strategies? Poor decision-making? Could the Germans have turned the failure there into a proper routing of the Allies?

* Principle reasons for failure tend to be overextension of supply lines, lack of fuel, and loss of flank guards - all stemming from over-ambitious speed of advance. I would argue that Marshall's plan was tactically sound (use of surprise & mass), but operationally flawed (aforementioned supply lines, not knowing terrain, and the op pause at Antwerp) and an error in strategy (didn't achieve end-goal of route over Rhine; ended up with British relegated to backseats of planning for rest of campaign). Just saying - I have done a little reading. Thanks.

Avram, who used to read us the Russian newspaper from Kiev back in Anatevka, told me once that in America, they have something called "moving pictures" where people can pay money to see films being played. Tzeitel's family just went there- maybe they'll get a chance to see one! I never have, though.

But apparently there's a moving picture all the way in the 1970s that's about our lives in Anatevka, though why us who can imagine... how interesting are we? And this is only one of a few different movies about us, because of some fellow named Sholem Aleichem? Fascinating. One thing about this one is different than the others, though- we definitely never sang and danced this much, except I guess on Simchas Torah- that's the festival where we celebrate completing the reading of the Torah in our synagogue each year. We dance up a storm!

Another time when we really did dance a lot is at weddings- including, of course, mine and Tzeitel's. I was so happy when her father gave us his approval to marry, and the wedding was one of the most beautiful days of my life. I mean, I was hungry for quite a lot of it- the tradition is that the bride and groom fast before the ceremony- but I was told that on that day it was as though I was cleansed of all of my sins. And Tzeitel looked so beautiful, even more beautiful than in the moving picture!

We really did walk down the streets of the town before the ceremony- it was a common part of shtetl weddings that already is starting to become a little bit less popular even now, as people get more interested in "modern" ideas. It's unfortunate, as it's a really beautiful tradition! Before that, though, we had something called a badeken, that apparently didn't make it into the moving picture- Tzeitel sat on a chair with her veil over her face and I lifted it off (so that I could see that it was actually her! The tradition comes from Jacob accidentally marrying Leah instead of Rachel in the Bible). The village klezmers, or musicians, were serenading us during the badeken and as we walked through the streets to the chuppah, the wedding canopy in the company of the rest of the local Jews, who also held candles at the ceremony. Our wedding ended up being a quite traditional one, though we didn't have it on Friday night, as many others do- the wedding is Friday afternoon, then comes the Sabbath, and then the wedding party and dancing are Saturday night! Instead we got married in the evening, after the sun set, so that according to Jewish law it was actually the next day and there was no confusion about the date on the marriage contract.

For the actual ceremony part- I mean, I was so nervous and excited (and honestly so hungry!) that it was all kind of a blur for me! But I did notice that they seem to have shortened it a bit, or maybe skipped some parts so that they could show my shver (father in law) and shvigger (mother in law) singing, and then also Hodel and Perchik later on... At the very beginning of the ceremony, Tzeitel, her mother, and my mother circled me under the chuppah seven times and then went off to the side as the ceremony began. The rabbi, who served as the mesader kiddushin (wedding officiant), recited two blessings- on the wine, and on the marriage- as two witnesses looked on (if you look closely in the scene, you can see one of them next to him), after which we drank the wine. After this, I put the ring on Tzeitel's index finger and said "harei at mekudeshes li betaba'as zu kedas Moshe ve'Yisrael"- behold you are betrothed to me with this ring according to the law of Moses and Israel. Then we get to the part you can't really see so well, but the kesubah, or marriage contract, was read aloud and then rolled up, and I gave it to Tzeitel, who now has possession of it for the remainder of the marriage (though she gave it to someone to hold after because she was kind of busy!). Then the rabbi said seven blessings over another cup of wine, which Tzeitel and I drank from as well. Then I broke the glass, but it's a weird thing- people immediately said mazal tov, which is definitely something that really does happen, but really, since we break the glass to remind ourselves of the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, to add some solemnity to a happy occasion, it's odd that we use that as a cue to start cheering "mazal tov!"

And then Tzeitel and I were married! It was absolutely wonderful- the actor doesn't even capture the half of it. Even though the moving picture shows it as though we went straight to the dancing, really we took a few minutes to rest privately for yichud, or time alone, which is actually part of the wedding ceremony. It was definitely a time to eat and drink a bit after a long day! Then we went out to dance with our families, and while the movie definitely makes it look a bit... fancier than it was (hey, we didn't have the time to learn fancy choreography, that Tradition song did a pretty good job capturing all the different things we had to do every day!), a lot of the dance moves and kinds of dancing that people did were really similar to what our friends and families did, and it looks like the choreographer went to some real Jewish weddings in order to find that out! Of course, all dancing was separated between men and women- it was definitely very shocking, especially in a small, traditional community like Anatevka, when Hodel and Perchik decided to break the rules. That said, I don't know what they were thinking when they had the rabbi saying that it was permissible. Our rabbi would never have allowed it.

When we had the wedding meal, the village badchan (comedian- yes, a lot of shtetls really do have official comedians whose job it is to entertain at weddings and other events, often with poems and songs which mixed spirituality and snark) announced all the different wedding gifts that we received- though I would definitely say that the brawl that ensued was not exactly typical, though not unheard of! Sadly, though, while I wouldn't say that the attackers coming to disrupt and destroy the wedding was typical either, it was definitely not something that we could be excessively shocked by, and certainly nor could we have been shocked by the fact that the policeman, who I know my shver thought was his friend, did nothing to stop it.

Anyway, that was our wedding! It still makes me smile like a lunatic to think about it- though a lot has happened since then. We're in Poland now, though we hope to leave soon, as things have been challenging here as well- perhaps we shall see my in-laws soon in New York, America!

If you have any other questions about other parts of the moving picture, please let me know- I don't know for sure if I'll know how to answer, but I will try!

I am Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus, son of the deified Marcus, master of the civilized world, Emperor of Rome.

You would do well to consider me a god.

Recently, under circumstances that I feel no particular inclination to share, I encountered this movie you call “Gladiator.”

I was not entertained.

To the baser elements of the mob, I suppose, it might seem watchable. The opening battle is impressive enough, as are the scenes set in the city of Rome (though half the buildings are out of place). Despite glaring inaccuracies, the gladiatorial combats are creative and exciting. The music is evocative, if you like that sort of thing.

But all of this vanishes beside the grossly slanderous portrait of myself.

Who is Joaquin Phoenix? Who is this sickly imposter, this devious incompetent, this commoner who dares to assume my name? What has he to do with me? Where in him is the glory of Commodus? Where is the commanding eye, the Herculean figure, the leonine hair, the luxuriant beard?

Phoenix, I grant, has a certain degree of flair (I have ordered my artificers to copy that fetching white armor he wears in the final battle with Maximus). He has a measure of my godlike skill in the gladiatorial arts, exhibits a seemly zest for the games, and is justly disdainful of all things senatorial. In every other respect, however, his false Commodus is an abomination!

I shall focus on the most egregious errors.

I did not kill the deified Marcus. My father never dreamt of giving power to the Senate, and made me his co-emperor long before his death. I gained nothing from his passing.

Although Phoenix manages to convey my loathing of the Senate – I rather liked the scene where he plays with his sword while the senators natter on about drainage – he is far too gentle with them. Nothing forestalls sedition like a timely execution or two. Much though I might like to, however, I have never attempted to disband the senate entirely. Even senators have their uses.

I have no inappropriate urges toward my sisters (I killed Lucilla, of course, but that was nothing personal). The vicious rumors to the contrary should not be countenanced.

Last but certainly not least, I have never heard of any general-turned-gladiator named Maximus. Who is this Maximus? Who is this unlikely hero, unstoppable in the arena, beloved by my traitorous sister Lucilla, empowered to establish the Senate – the Senate! – in control of Rome? He is nobody! He is nothing! He never existed!

Every time “Maximus” – portrayed by a surly provincial named Russell Crowe – appeared on screen, my blood began to boil. The final fight was worst of all. I have never cheated in the arena. I have never needed to. To suggest otherwise is defamation of the basest order. And to show Commodus, Emperor of Rome, being slain in arena!

Ridley Scott is an impertinent wretch.

I find myself angrier than a god should be. I shall shoot ostriches until I regain my composure. Once I have recovered myself, I shall return to carousing with my companions, to dazzling displays of martial prowess, to entirely platonic relations with my sisters, and to quiet contemplation of my ineffable majesty. I shall never again trouble myself with “Gladiator.” Nor will any of my subjects, if they know what’s good for them…