This past weekend we once again celebrated the anniversary of our nation’s birth and the agent of that delivery, the sacred scripture that is the Declaration of Independence. Two days after its adoption, John Hancock sent a rider to New York to deliver it to General George Washington who read it to the troops on July 9, 1776.

So inspiring was its message that later that evening, a combination of soldiers and Sons of Liberty toppled a large statue of King George III on Bowling Green proving then, as now, the power of words and imagery.

Today, the vehicle which combines words and images is the TV screen, which is used to convey the deep meaning of everything from politics to foot powder. Its big brother, the movie screen likewise serves as conduit, more to tell stories than sell products.

The mystery here being: Why hasn’t the incredible story of our nation’s founding produced more than a handful of films? How is it that an industry that has seen fit to produce more pap than Gerbers can’t or won’t come up with a state-of-the-art film on a subject so rife with possibilities?

One of Hollywood’s few and latest attempts, The Patriot (2000), though well-intentioned, misses the mark on many levels, the worst of which I call Titanic-itis. This tinseltown malady seizes screenwriters with the notion that no event; no matter how great in scope, can stand alone without some cutesy, clichéd sub-plots.

Think about it; the sinking of the great ship--probably one of the most fascinating events of the Twentieth Century and one that spawned a cottage industry--with more stories of pathos, irony, devotion and heroism than could be imagined.

And what does James Cameron dish out in the climax of his unintentionally hilarious 1997 flick? As the band plays on, the courageous stokers continue at their posts long after they have been released in an effort to keep the lights on for the passengers and men of great wealth kiss their loved ones farewell while stoically facing certain death, we need to see: a gun chase!

This is the same nonsense that so infects The Patriot. Apparently, the facts concerning the war that resulted in the greatest political experiment of all time are not enough to sustain a modern-day audience’s attention. Silly sub-plots abound as well as politically correct characters, anachronisms and gross misrepresentations of history. Still, all that would be palatable had the movie’s writers made more than a brief attempt to explain what the fighting was all about.

Another part of this conundrum hard to explain is the recent spate of books devoted to the subject, particularly in the form of biographies on the founding fathers, brothers and mothers. So it is not a lack of interest that keeps the truly greatest generation’s story off the silver screen. Yet in the last thirty years or so (and no I will not include 1985’s dreary Revolution), aside from The Patriot and a few made-for-TV quickies and PBS documentaries, American cinema has been remarkably un-Revolutionary.

Even back in the golden age of Hollywood, the Glorious Cause received short shrift. The only notable exceptions being Drums Along the Mohawk (1939), John Ford’s first Technicolor film and the surprisingly good Abbott and Costello vehicle, The Time of Their Lives (1946). The former starred an impossibly handsome Henry Fonda as a newlywed battling Tory-led Indians in New York’s Mohawk Valley while the latter featured Lou as a tinker’s ghost falsely accused of being a traitor enlisting the aid of modern day psychiatrist Bud to prove his innocence.

A notable exception to this sad cinematic history came from an unlikely time and source; Broadway, 1969. The vastly under-rated 1776 was virtually lifted almost entirely from the stage where it won the Tony for best musical over such now-dated, anti-war, hippie fare as Hair and came to the big screen in 1972 with nearly all of its brilliant cast intact.

Although the celluloid version suffers from the overdone artsy-ness of the awful period in which it was made and pales alongside a live rendition, it is a must-see for fans of the founding. The way in which whole passages of historically accurate quotes, text and dates are lovingly woven into its theatrical book (with a small dose of literary license) is truly a wonder. The songs may not be music to some ears but the long, uninterrupted Congressional debate scenes are at times, spellbinding.

The show’s composer-lyricist, Sherman Edwards, was a former history teacher and I have long contended that one or more attentive viewings of this film would be more instructive in the study of the immediate period leading up to American independence than twelve years of modern public schooling in same.

Mr. Edwards died in 1981 and so did not live to see his masterwork’s major Broadway revival in 1997. It is a tribute to him and to his subject matter that his musical is constantly played around the country including a run last year at historic Ford’s Theater in Washington, DC.

When Mr. Edwards, who also gave us the songs “Wonderful, Wonderful” and “See You in September,” was introduced as the creator of 1776, he was often asked, “Is it true?” This question gave him no end of anguish, as it should all of us, but don’t expect Hollywood to make an attempt to help answer it any time soon.

Lisa Fabrizio