The nature of the film industry itself tends to exacerbate the problem. Cinema is a particularly unique medium, in that it involves the collaborative creative efforts of large teams of people, not necessarily sharing the same artistic vision. What these disparate individuals can focus on, however, is a kernel of a story--a lost princess, in Anastasia, for example. When the emotional kernel of a story becomes the central, guiding principle, then historical veracity and the nuanced entirety of the story become disposable. This is unfortunate, as a true historical tale, with all its complexity and contradictions can be much more human, real and moving than a slick, cookie-cut Hollywood production.
It is, of course, very easy to bash large multi-million dollar Hollywood studio productions for abusing both history and art. The discrepancy between artistic representation and historical veracity is not new, however. Is there any essential difference between a Shakespeare play involving historical figures, such as Julius Caesar or Henry V, and a Disney or Fox production like Pocahontas or Anastasia?
Shakespeare, Disney and Fox all use history as a backdrop for a stock set of characters and a moral/political message. The primary interest is in the dramatic action and the message; the historical setting is merely a convenient agency. The historical figures are imbued with a symbolism and meaning that goes far beyond their actual personages and deeds. Instead, it reflects far more on the artist's own personality. The ultimate difference is whether the history is itself an integral part of the artistic message, such as in Glory or JFK, or if it is simply the vehicle of dramatic convenience, as it is for Shakespeare, Disney and Fox.
Shakespeare's treatment of history can be excused both by his time period and by his artistic merit. The practice (not to mention conception) of history was quite different in Shakespeare's time than our own. Even in "history" writing, very different standards were applied. Pocahontas and Anastasia, however, must answer to our own contemporary standards of historical veracity.
The conflict between art and history is not at all necessarily bad. It can be poorly resolved, as in Anastasia, but it can also be the wellspring of a tremendous amount of creativity. Artists who embroil themselves in history should ask themselves whether they are doing so to comment on the history or if the history is merely serving as a convenient dramatic vehicle, easing the creative burden.
One can argue that if the art, however, inaccurate, interests a few people in the history, then that is itself enough. True as this may be, it is merely an unwitting side-effect. A film like Glory was made with the express intent of drawing attention to the contribution of black soldiers to the Union Army war effort during the Civil War. The success of this endeavor was dependent on the movie being perceived as historically credible. Such can be said of neither Anastasia nor Pocahontas. For the handful of people whom they might interest in history, these movies create a legion of historically misinformed individuals.
Perhaps it is appropriate to note, in conclusion that Fox did take care to place, at the end of some of the longest titles I have ever seen, a disclaimer announcing that the film was just a huge historical fantasy and should not be taken as factual. But after a fun flick, who cares?