Excellent Revival of the Epic Tradition

Rating: 8/10 (3 November 2004)

One of the strange aspects of cinematic history is how an entire genre of films can suddenly lose favour and disappear. In the fifties and early sixties big historical epics, with story lines normally drawn either from the Bible or from classical antiquity, were one of the most popular types of film, and their popularity seemed assured after the huge successes of 'Ben-Hur' in 1959 and 'Spartacus' the following year. A few years later, however, they all but disappeared from the screen after the financial failures of 'Cleopatra' and 'The Fall of the Roman Empire'. The genre seemed to be dead and gone; when the film-makers of the late sixties, seventies and eighties made films on a large scale, they generally turned to other subject-matter (often organised crime or science fiction).
What is gone, however, is not always gone for ever. The nineties saw, at least on a limited scale, revivals of a number of genres which had seemed to be in decline- the Western ('Dances with Wolves'), the mediaeval history lesson ('Braveheart'), the big-scale disaster movie ('Titanic'), the war film ('Saving Private Ryan') until, finally, it was the turn of the classical epic. Ridley Scott chose to revive the genre by starting where 'The Fall of the Roman Empire' had left off thirty-six years earlier, with the story of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius and his son Commodus.
The two films have a similar plot. Both start with Marcus Aurelius leading the Roman legions to victory over the German tribes on the Empire's northern frontier. In each case he is assisted by an able second-in-command (called Livius in the earlier film, Maximus in the later). In each case the Emperor has doubts about the fitness of his son, Commodus, to succeed him, but is murdered before he can put into practice a scheme to prevent his son's accession. Commodus proves to be a tyrannical ruler, and the second half of each film deals with the struggle between the evil Emperor and his late father's friend, who represents the forces of good. In 'Gladiator', Maximus also has a personal motive to seek revenge, because Commodus was responsible for the murders of his wife and young son. He himself survives an attempt by Commodus to have him killed, but he is sold into slavery and forced to become a gladiator. (There are parallels here with another Roman epic, 'Spartacus'). Maximus's skill with weapons ensures that he quickly rises to the top of his new profession, and when his troupe is taken to Rome to fight in the Coliseum he sees an opportunity for revenge.
The older classical epics were noted for spectacle, and 'Gladiator' is a worthy successor in this regard. The opening battle between the Romans and the Germans and the scenes of combat in the arena are both vivid and exciting. It does not, however, rely on spectacle alone. Like the more distinguished of the earlier epics (especially 'Spartacus') it contains some very good acting performances. Russell Crowe, as Maximus, shows that he has, like Kirk Douglas or Charlton Heston, the commanding presence to take centre stage in a film of this nature. He brought out both Maximus's physical courage and his nobility, and his 'best actor' award was well-deserved. Oliver Reed, in his final film, was also good as the gladiator trainer Proximo, as was Richard Harris as the ageing Emperor Aurelius (although I preferred Alec Guinness's interpretation of the same role in 'Fall of the Roman Empire'). Joaquin Phoenix brought an original touch to the role of Commodus, portrayed as a basically weak and petulant young man rather than a ranting tyrant. His cruelty arises from his sense of weakness and insecurity.
Both 'Gladiator' and 'Fall of the Roman Empire' are, to some extent, historically inaccurate. All the evidence, for example, suggests that Marcus Aurelius died of natural causes, and he does not seem to have entertained any doubts about his son's fitness to rule. (It is not, however, a goof, as some have claimed, to show Commodus fighting in the arena; there is historical evidence that he did so on many occasions). The politics of 'Gladiator', with its preference for republicanism over monarchism, seem to reflect modern American values rather than Roman ones. The distinction between a republic and a monarchy was not as clear-cut then as it is now. The Romans, even when they were ruled by an Emperor, continued to refer to their state as 'res publica', and the Emperor never claimed to be a king. (The title 'Rex' was never used during this period; the Latin title 'Imperator' literally means 'Commander'). Succession from father to son was not automatic; the accession of Commodus was the first time in over a hundred years that an Emperor had been succeeded by his natural, as opposed to adopted, son. If Aurelius had really wanted to disinherit Commodus, he could have done so by adopting some distinguished Senator or military leader as his successor. (Aurelius himself was no blood-relation to his predecessor Antoninus Pius). It seems unlikely that he would have wanted to abolish the office of Emperor and replace it with direct rule by the Senate (which was an oligarchy, not a democratically elected Parliament).
I was not, however, too worried by this; 'Gladiator' is by no means the only historic drama to look at the past through the eyes of the present. (Indeed, it is probably impossible when making such a film to avoid this trap altogether). 'Spartacus', for example, projected modern ideas about political freedom back to ancient Rome, and 'The Egyptian' had the people of ancient Egypt practising a quasi-Christian religion more than a millennium before the birth of Christ. The epic tradition had been allowed to languish for too long. Ridley Scott showed, in this intelligent and visually striking film, that it was possible to revive it with success, a revival that has continued with 'Troy' this year and 'Alexander the Great' to come next year. I should also mention Hans Zimmer's excellent musical score, which seems well on the way to becoming a modern classic. 8/10