Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Director Report Card: Ridley Scott (2000)



Some of the greatest blockbusters of Hollywood's golden age were set in the days of Ancient Rome. "Ben-Hur" and "Spartacus" are but two epics involving gladiator matches and chariot races. Films like these proved so popular, especially internationally, that nearly the entire Italian movie industry pivoted to making sword-and-sandal movies for a few years. This influx of cheap peplum movies burned the public out and the genre was more-or-less dead for thirty-five years. That is until screenwriter David Franzoni pitched Dreamworks a script inspired by Narcissus, the wrestler who strangled Roman emperor Commodus to death. Ridley Scott would agree to direct, Russell Crowe would sign-on to star, and the script would be completely rewritten. The resulting film, "Gladiator," would become a blockbuster and win the Oscar for Best Picture. 

In 180 AD, Maximus Decimus Meridius leads the Roman army to victory in Germania. Afterwards, ailing emperor Marcus Aurelius decides Maximus will lead Rome after his death specifically to reestablish the Senate. When Commodus, Aurelius' unstable son, learns of this, he murders the emperor and orders Maximus – and his entire family – executed. He escapes but is soon captured by slavers. Sold to trainer Proximo, Maximus is forced to participate in gladiatorial combat. His strategic fighting style makes him immensely popular with the public. Maximus soon realizes that victory in the Colosseum could provide him a path, not just to freedom, but to revenge as well.

If "G.I. Jane" was strangely uncritical about military service, to the point of jingoism, "Gladiator" directly rebuffs this attitude. In the beginning, Maximus is a loyal soldier of Rome. When Marcus Aurelius suggests all of Rome's military campaigns were for naught, Maximus responds with anger. If the wars were meaningless, Maximus has fought for nothing. His men have died for nothing. Much like the protagonists of "The Duellists," Maximus has based a large chunk of his identity around his status as a soldier. And what does Maximus' years of glory and service get him? Betrayed by his country, left to die and his family – the only thing he cares about more than Rome – brutally murdered. "Gladiator" reveals a truth far harsher than "G.I. Jane:" That empires consider even the most successful soldier expendable. 

Ultimately, Maximus learns that victory on the battlefield and bloody glory is only temporary. Something else reverberates into eternity: Love, man. The only thing driving the suicidal Maximus for most of the film is the desire to avenge his wife and son's murders. Yet he soon forms a bond with his fellow gladiators, inspiring them to fight back for their freedom. "Gladiator" also repeatedly references the Elysian Fields, the Roman afterlife. Maximus' focus soon shifts from revenge to a desire to do what is right before being reunited in heaven with his family. Love for your family or the brotherhood you form with your friends drives us to be the best versions of ourselves. This has more value than loyalty to your country or army, the film concludes.

Even though "Gladiator" is a film about Ancient Rome, some of its ideas are timeless. Against his father's wish, Commodus has no interest in dismantling the role of the Roman Emperor. He makes moves to de-emphasize the Senate and make himself more powerful. While the emperor dismantles democracy, he keeps the people distracted with spectacle. He builds a massive Colosseum and puts on more and more elaborate gladiatorial matches, all while stealing away the people's powers and glorifying himself. The phrase “bread and circuses” has endured throughout the centuries for a reason. It was true in 180, it was true in 2000 when “Gladiator” came out, and it's certainly still true today.

Of course, the spectacle looses its point if it inspires the people to rise up against their oppressors. Invoking the working class themes seen throughout Ridley Scott's career, Maximus repeatedly expresses his desire to return home to his farm. He may be a great general but, at his core, he is a simple man with ordinary roots. Thrusts into the games, fighting to survive, he proves such an adapt butcher that the audiences love him. Maximus becomes bigger than the games, rising above his status as a tool of the state. Proving that one man can stand up to the emperor and effectively challenge it undermines all of Commodus' authoritarian politics. It's the same point made in “Rollerball” and many other similar films: That one, ordinary man really can make a difference and defeat the system. Yet “Gladiator” is pretty damn good at conveying this message.

As you dive deeper into Ridley Scott's career, you do start to notice that father issues are an occasional reoccurring trope in a few of his films. Following Roy Batty's rage at his creator and the boat load of daddy issues in “White Squall,” we have Commodus' simmering resentment towards his own dad. From the moment we meet them, the emperor Marcus Aurelius is so obviously disappointed in his boy. He sees all his clear and apparent flaws, realizing immediately that his son is not worthy of the role of emperor. Needless to say, Commodus is pretty upset by this. “Gladiator” exaggerates the idea of parental disappointment to operatic levels. No wonder he smothers his father to death, as he's so desperate for love and acceptance that a warm embrace turns into a tear-strewn act of murder. 

Of course, Commodus' problems extend beyond some resentment towards his dad. In fact, it seems his thirst for power, his desire to become beloved among the power and to bend the Roman Empire totally to his will, extends from his need to feel loved by an unavailable father. After all, he puts himself in the Coliseum from time to time, eager tp prove his worth to the public. This is just the most extreme exaggeration of his status as a petulant man-child, an overgrown boy ruled by petty emotions. Who is so self-adsorbed by his own problems that he looks at his sister with a lust that he can barely contain. This is the man who is going to destroy democracy, in order to make himself feel better about his myriad of personal problems and to protect his own power and privilege. That has some chilling parallels to recent American history, doesn't it?

It's not just the themes and ideas that are big and bold. Befitting a movie about the public display of violence, “Gladiator's” bloodshed is fittingly theatrical. The bright red plasma sprays through the air with the swing of every blade. One of “Gladiator's” most striking images is blood drooling from the golden mask of one of Maximus' opponents. The movie also seemingly delights in the sight of blades stabbing and cleaving through body parts. Heads are sliced off, spinning upwards. Limbs are cleaved away. An entire body is cut in two due to a runaway carriage wheel. If “Gladiator” didn't so perfectly engineer its world of operatic drama, this stuff would seem very over-the-top indeed. 

Of course, Ridley Scott knows how to shoot an action sequence. In its best moments, “Gladiator” is incredibly thrilling to watch. That battle with the archers on chariot is, indeed, highly compelling. However, other times, the action direction falls back on the shakier tactics we saw in “G.I. Jane.” It never becomes quite incoherent. Yet there's a bit too much jittery camera movement and hyper-active editing during Maximus' escape from execution or some of the gladiatorial fights. At one point, we even see a brief return of the rough zooms used in “Jane,” when Maximus and Juba turn a retiarius' trident against him. All I can figure is this was done in hopes of making “Gladiator's” action as urgent and immediate feeling as possible.

At the time, “Gladiator” was raked over the coals for its lack of historical accuracy. Obviously, Marcus Aurelius was not murdered by his own son and Commodus was not killed in the ring by a rebelling slave. The exact details of the clothing and architecture are all over the place too. Not that “Gladiator” was ever meant to taken as an exact replica of Roman history. The film uses then-groundbreaking CGI to create some of its sweeping vistas of the grand ancient city. This not only allows Ridley Scott to indulge his trademark of shoving as much detail into a frame as possible, it also makes the film's version of Rome feel as distinct as “Alien's” Nostromo or “Blade Runner's dystopian city. (Naturally, Scott works to include some dramatic lighting and shots of rolling fog, as he is wont to.) 

I've compared “Gladiator” to an opera about a hundred times in this review. This is true not just in its giant-sized ideas and themes, nor the bloody executions of them, but also in the margins of its story. There's more than a few scenes devoted to drama among the senators. (One is named Gracchus, only the most obvious nod towards “Spartacus.”) They comment on the growing unrest in Rome, most of which is strangely kept largely off-screen. We also learn that Commodus' sister and Maximus once had a love affair. It's heavily implied that Maximus is the father of her son. While its central story is compelling, these rambling subplots – further emphasized in a 171-minute cut, notably advertised as the “extended cut” and not a “director's cut” – do drag the film down a little bit.

By the time he made “Gladiator,” Russell Crowe was already an Academy Award-nominated actor. Yet this film would elevate him, however briefly, to the status of box office superstar. As Maximus, Crowe is playing exactly to type. He blusters and grumbles. He stares with great intensity. He spits larger-than-life monologues with absolute conviction. The scene where he barks his full name and states his purpose is the exact moment Crowe became an icon. Yet there is something deeper in those sad, soulful eyes of Crowe's. He's both a giant, rampaging bear of a man but also a sad puppy dog. I think only a part like this, that so perfectly suits Crowe's style, could have changed him from a well-respected character actor to a genuine movie star. 

Matching Crowe in intensity is Joaquin Phoenix as Commodus. Phoenix, a wide-established actor who was on his way to becoming a beloved performer, also has a specific type of role he excels in. That would be men with incredible neurosis, driven by these forces to act out in whatever way suits the film. Commodus is extremely neurotic, shaking apart in multiple scenes by his overwhelming emotions. Because Phoenix is so very good at turning this kind of character into incredible performances, Commodus emerges as a villain that is both totally despicable but oddly sympathetic too. 

Leading an accomplished supporting cast is Oliver Reed, in his final performance, as Proximo. Reed brings a surprising degree of complexity to the role of a mentor, who knows his glory days are behind them but hopes to recapture a bit of that feeling by training a new legend. The role also allows Reed a chance to dominate the screen with his particular brand of bombastic charm one last time. (The moment Reed is replaced with a digital double is not one of the film's better special effects.) Connie Nielsen, as Lucilla, bottles her emotions up inside until she absolutely can't, leading to a few cathartic outbursts. Djimon Hounsou is also memorable as Maximus' brother-in-arms, playing off Crowe's intensity with a quieter of charisma.

“Gladiator's” success at the Academy Awards, including its Best Picture win, would have a number of effects on Hollywood. Its success and popularity would lead to a new wave of sword-and-sandals media, with shows like “Rome” and “Spartacus” on television and movies like “Troy,” “Alexander,” “300” and a new “Clash of the Titans” in theaters. There was even thus far unsuccessful attempts to sequelize the movie, which included an insane draft from Nick Cave featuring an resurrected, immortal Maximus. Most pressingly to us, “Gladiator's” Oscar wins would renew Ridley Scott's auteur license once and for all. It's not a perfect motion picture – it's not even the best of the Oscar-nominated films that year – but it is an immensely satisfying movie full of big ideas executed in a fittingly impressive manner. [Grade: A-]

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