Spectacle
and human drama interweave beautifully in this epic recreation of the
spirit of ancient Rome in all its pomp, splendor, and horror. Ridley
Scott’s masterful directorial touch takes us to the Coliseum, the
place where the best and the worst interface as the crowd of oppressed,
blood lusting commoners, their Senators, and the Emperor entertain
themselves with scenes of carnage. We were stunned with the realization
that our international viewing audience assembled in the plush
surroundings of the Loews Cineplex at Universal City in Los Angeles
shared a visceral connection with the Roman crowd reveling at the
spilling of human blood. The artistic imagination of the filmmakers
allowed us to plumb the depths of emotions that we would otherwise be
mad or evil to experience. We were relieved, though, that such
experiences, resonating deeply within parts of our nature that we have
endeavored mightily to restrain, civilize, and repress, were released in
the condensed time span of this film and confines of a theatre.
Russell Crowe proves his mastery as an extremely versatile actor with
both broad and deep expressive range as well as physical presence in the
role of Maximus. He is not matinee idol handsome, but he projects the
charisma of a fierce, unbeatable gladiator and a true field commander
loved by his troops. Remember that Crowe recently played the pudgy,
psychologically crippled tobacco executive and informer in the Insider.
We were amazed at the beautiful recreations of ancient Rome centered
around the Coliseum with its trap doors releasing tigers, its intricate
system of entrances and exits, and of course its teaming throngs of
spectators (2,000 or so extras and cast multiplied buy computer to some
35,000). The exquisite costumes expressed something of the complexity of
the times and characters, especially the dresses of Lucilla (Connie
Nielson), and the lavish clothing of Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), and
Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris).
The movie opens in stunningly recreated battle as Maximus leads his
troops in yet another victory for his beloved, aged Emperor Marcus
Aurelius. Not only has the philosopher-king spent all but a few years of
his reign at the helm of the Roman death machine, but he realizes that
his son and heir, Commodus is unfit to rule with justice and wisdom.
Marcus asks Maximus to return to Rome as Emperor and restore the
Republic. (All of this is a dramatic fiction. Some of these characters
had a place in history, but not as this movie suggests.)
Marcus’s arrangement is the undoing of both Maximus and Marcus. Commodus
engages in the Greco-Roman traditional sport of patricide by smothering
the old man and orders his Praetorian Guards to execute Maximus. Of
course, the guards fail as Maximus, even in chains, bests them and
escapes on his war horse. After galloping hundreds of miles, Maximus
reaches his estate in Spain badly wounded and almost dead with
exhaustion and finds his beloved son and wife crucified and burned amid
the smoldering fields littered with the charred bodies of his servants.
We sense the depths from which this valiant soldier will seek his
revenge, but first, Maximus must survive physically, psychologically,
spiritually.
He is picked up by a slave trader and sold into a team of gladiators
where Maximus is befriended by the wily African hunter Juba (Djimon
Hounsou) and mentored by the worldly ex-gladiator, his new owner Proximo
(Oliver Reed). From the former, Maximus adopts the transporting fantasy
of being with his loved ones as he clings to the hope of being reunited
in the wheat fields of Elysium. From the latter, he learns to please the
crowd with the swift brutality of his performances. When the gladiator
troop moves to Rome, Maximus remains true to the request of Marcus
Aurelius to restore the Republic, though in a way neither could have
anticipated.
As stunning as we found many of the visual elements of Gladiator, we
were also distracted by scenes of clouds whizzing by in surreal hyper
speed, a sort of cliché for the passing of time. As complex and
tortured as we found the character of Commodus, who was motivated as
much by a desperate desire for love and acceptance as by his swings into
vengeance and intrigue, we were puzzled by his sister Lucilla. She at
first seems an eager and able participant in her brother’s power
schemes, and then unexplainably becomes his opponent. Even less
plausible is her growing fear of Commodus. Given that she has his trust,
access to his unguarded person, and is accustomed to preparing him
potions for headaches, she could have easily offed him one way or the
other. Also, needlessly complicating the love interest subplots is the
undeveloped, back-story romance between Lucilla and Maximus.
Ultimately, Gladiator is a mesmerizing battle spectacle that,
despite its predictable plot, offers a glimpse of ancient Rome tearing
at the seams with the raw bloodlust of human nature. As we marvel the
electrifying battles in the arena, we might ponder the threads that
connect our Western Culture to its origins in the ancient Greece and
Rome. Perhaps, a part of us that is thrilled by the games of death is
larger than we’d like to admit. Perhaps, our entertainment is still in
part a satiation of blood lust.
