Ken Burns is back with Leonardo da Vinci, a monumental two-night exploration of one of history’s greatest minds. As expected, the documentary is filled with captivating visuals, poignant narration, and Burns' signature slow-pan images of da Vinci’s iconic work. But as in his previous documentaries, there’s one glaring, recurrent void: genitals.
Leonardo was a brilliant artist and scientist. He painted the Mona Lisa, sketched flying machines, and studied anatomy with an obsession that would make anyone’s head spin. But for all his dissection of the human form, Burns refuses to address what may be the most significant part of the human body - not only in da Vinci’s own life, but for the entire human race: the naughty bits.
This isn’t unsual for Burns. If you look at his previous documentaries—Country Music, Baseball, The American Buffalo—you’ll notice a common thread. Each meticulously researched narrative paints a vivid picture of history, but never the full monty. Burns gives us the strategies, the politics, and the profound moments, but he completely sidesteps the parts of his subjects’ lives that make them human.
When chronicling The Civil War, for instance, Burns walked us through the bloody battles, the strategic decisions, and the emotional toll on a nation. But did he ever talk about the soldiers’ privates off the battlefield? Did we get a glimpse into the intimate experiences of these men? No. Burns avoids all mention of their hambones, despite it being central to the lives of every soldier on both sides of the war.
And let’s not forget Jazz. Burns took us deep into the world of improvisation, innovation, and the passion of the greats. But once again, there was no exploration of the personal lives of these musicians—no acknowledgment of their intimate relationships, their desires, their bodies. And everyone knows where the word "jazz" originated. How could he avoid the obvious?
With Leonardo da Vinci, we get another beautiful yet incomplete portrait of a unique individual. While Burns marvels at Leonardo’s genius and his deep fascination with anatomy, there’s no mention of how this genius may have been applied to male or female bodily sensations. It’s not enough to show us Leonardo’s studies of muscles, tendons, and bones. If you’re going to explore the great minds of history, why ignore Cupid's Playground? Was sexual curiosity not a part of his creative process? Did they not fuel the great inventions and masterpieces he left behind?
Da Vinci’s famous Vitruvian Man might represent the pinnacle of his study of human anatomy, but was there a similar exploration of the female body? How did Leonardo’s understanding of the female form and, its potential desires, shape his art? The closest Burns gets to this is a vague mention of the Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile. But Leonardo’s work was full of the female form, so why are we left in the dark about the cooters and hooters that peopled his 67 years?
Ken Burns delivers another elegant and well-researched documentary, but disappointingly, he has left us hanging again. History isn’t just about intellect or achievement—it’s about the fannies and crannies, the three-piece suit, the privy counsel. If Burns is going to keep telling us the story of the world's most influential historical figures, he might want to start addressing the parts of them that seldom see the light of day. Leonardo was not just a mind—he was a man. But after the credits roll on this two-part series, we still don't get the low-down on his down-lows.