Undeniably Kubrick

Rating: 7/10 (12 April 2010)

Spartacus has come to be regarded as something of an unknown entity in the Kubrick canon. He was an auteur who always claimed a writing credit; so on the surface this Kirk Douglas-produced Roman epic might appear to be a simple vanity project for its star after his failure to land the part of Ben-Hur.
But Kubrick was clearly able to imprint his personality on the finished product: lengthy tracking shots and static long shots framed like classical paintings; meticulous lighting and chessboard floors. And not every director would pick up on screenwriter Dalton Trumbo's intelligent irony and subtext.
Peter Ustinov has spoken of the lack of a Christ figure, and I would say this is to the movie's advantage. How easy it would have been to present Spartacus, self-proclaimed leader of the common man, as a figure to be deified, and the fawning poor as his disciples. But that would have cheapened the message, and patronised his followers to the extent that they become effectively imprisoned once more by blind allegiance. Indeed, religion is rarely mentioned at all; if it had been then the already murky politics would be muddied further and we would be watching a 5-hour cut.
The cast is a colourful bunch. Douglas exudes a fierce and believable masculinity as the titular titan. Classical quality is provided by Laurence Olivier (Crassus), Charles Laughton (Gracchus) and the peerless Ustinov, whose Batiatus is the perfect rodent, snivelling somewhere between the stricken slave-world and the sinister senate. (A similar but arguably richer character than, say, Gladiator's Proximo.) The casting of Tony Curtis is less successful: his broad Bronx accent and dark heavy features aren't well suited to Antoninus' doe-eyed, silver-tongued minstrel.
Speaking of heavy, Alex North's bombastic score is deafening; triumphant or obnoxious depending on your ear drums. (North would later commission an unused score for Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, before his work was replaced by memorable pieces from Strauss, Ligeti et al.) One could argue that Jean Simmons' Varinia is little more than a pretty plot device for much of the movie - a foil for Spartacus' rampant rage; proof that he is not merely D-Fens in a loincloth - but she comes alive in the final scenes, providing some much-needed hope in the devastating climactic meeting.
Intelligent, broad of scope, cynical, horrifying and beautiful: this is truly a Kubrick war movie.