Who presumes them to be true? I have a hard enough time convincing people that it’s even a possibility.
What irks me is that if you read “Sonnet 18” to someone, and don’t provide a context, they’ll think it’s a beautiful love poem. Mention it’s written to another guy, and they’ll say, “That’s just how guys talked back then.”
Then if you point out “Sonnet 20,” in which the poet laments he was born a man because his beloved was made “for women’s pleasure,” that’s when people start bringing out the “Shakespeare’s sonnets probably aren’t autobiographical” theory.
It’s a knee-jerk reaction – it’s not just in movies, either. You find it in historical analysis, literary analysis. And the whole thing is frustrating – one gets the impression, sometimes, that homosexuality sprang into existance sometime after 1950. Or, at best, that it existed among the Ancient Greeks, then vanished for a couple of millennia. No other aspect of human existance is so automatically denied.
Movies, along with television, have become our stories now. And our stories are the glue of our culture. Part of the pleasure of movies is the joy of suspending disbelief, and sometimes people have a hard time leaving the suspension of disbelief in the theatre. I’ve heard someone who should know better – a highly intelligent woman with a bachelor’s in Classics – try to defend the historical accuracy of Gladiator. There are probably people out there who believe that The English Patient is an accurate portrayal of that Count’s life, or that there might even be some truth to Charlton Heston’s Michelangelo in The Agony and the Ecstasy.
Our stories and our histories (and in many languages, these are the same word) are the air that we breathe. To deny a person a place in the greater story is to deny them oxygen. To wilfully cut them out, to edit them out of both fiction and non-fiction, is to strangle them.
You’re probably right, although we do see an awful lot of the background characters either falling in love or having sex with someone. Marlowe, as I recall, walks in on a pair of very minor characters having sex.
That was what I was trying to say. I worded it a bit awkwardly.