The Authenticity Trap
When writing dialogue for characters from a bygone era, the first instinct is often to dive into historical documents and replicate speech patterns exactly. The problem? If you’ve ever tried to read an unedited 18th-century letter, you know it’s filled
with flowery language, odd syntax, and punctuation that feels alien to the modern eye. Sticking too closely to perfect historical accuracy can make dialogue clunky, impenetrable, and, worst of all, boring. It creates a barrier between the audience and the characters, making them feel like museum exhibits under glass rather than living, breathing people. This is the authenticity trap: in the quest for perfect accuracy, writers can sacrifice the emotional connection that makes a story work.
The Golden Rule: Authenticity of Intent
The most successful historical screenwriters don't replicate archaic language; they translate it. The unofficial rule is to pursue authenticity of intent rather than word-for-word accuracy. The goal is to figure out what a character meant—their emotional state, their social standing, their objective in the conversation—and then find a way to express that using language accessible to a modern audience. It’s about creating a believable illusion of the past. This means sprinkling in period-appropriate vocabulary and capturing the general cadence of the era without getting bogged down in grammatical structures that would confuse viewers. Think of it as a bridge between the past and present; the dialogue should feel true to the time but still be easily understood today.
Case Study: Presidents, Profanity, and Poets
Look no further than HBO’s acclaimed miniseries John Adams. Screenwriter Kirk Ellis drew heavily from David McCullough's biography and the personal letters between John and Abigail Adams. While some dialogue is lifted directly from these primary sources, much of it is crafted to reflect the characters' known personalities. The series is lauded for its realism, not because every word is a direct quote, but because Paul Giamatti’s Adams feels like a real, often cantankerous, and deeply principled man. He swears, he gets frustrated, and he speaks with a directness that feels true to his character, even if the exact phrasing is a modern construction. Then there's Hamilton. Lin-Manuel Miranda took the concept of translating intent to a whole new level. He read Alexander Hamilton's dense, prolific writings and saw a man whose mind moved at a dizzying pace. How do you translate that 18th-century intellectual energy for today? Through the complex, rapid-fire rhymes of hip-hop. By using a modern musical language, Miranda conveyed the spirit of Hamilton's ambition and brilliance in a way that resonates viscerally with a contemporary audience. He captured the intent, not the literal text.
Why This Approach Works
Focusing on intent over accuracy works because it prioritizes what matters most in storytelling: character and emotion. Audiences connect with historical figures not because they use perfect period grammar, but because they recognize their struggles, ambitions, and flaws. When the dialogue is clear and emotionally resonant, viewers can forget they are watching people from another century and simply get invested in the human drama. This method allows screenwriters to show the social dynamics of the time—distinctions in class, education, and gender—through subtle shifts in tone and vocabulary rather than through heavy-handed, archaic language. It makes history feel less like a lesson and more like a lived experience, which is the ultimate goal of any great historical drama.
