My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius
Father to a murdered son,
husband to a murdered wife.
And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.
I’ve always found it interesting how Ridley Scott’s Gladiator handles its spectacle;
being what is arguably one of the greatest action adventure films of all time,
it is filled with exciting combat sequences, fantastic visuals and many awe-inspiring moments.
But at the same time, it seems to critique exactly that which makes it spectacular.
Take the opening scene for example; right after the battle in Germania,
emperor Marcus Aurelius brings into question the necessity of the spectacular display of bloodshed, and
I brought the sword, nothing more.
And in a similar way, the film later condemns the gladiator fights as empty spectacles for the mob.
And yet, it feels strange to assume Gladiator’s spectacle as a critique on itself,
because, as Richard Rushton writes in his research paper;
As spectators of the film are we not also entranced by spectacle?
Are we not reduced to members of the mob, baying for blood and action and spectacle and sensation?
Are we not duped and lulled and drugged into a willing tyranny of special effects or
at least, of spectacular combats?
Are you not entertained?
Is this not why you're here?
It is definitely true that we enjoy spectacle in films, but I would also argue that it is
not spectacle in itself which we enjoy.
In fact, as I’m sure many of you have experienced as well,
I have often found myself bored during moments in films where I should feel the most excitement.
To understand why this happens; why spectacle can be so unspectacular,
we first have to discuss what it is and what purpose it has within a film’s story.
Generally speaking, spectacle can be defined as a moment of display or exhibition that
will invoke awe and wonder in the audience.
The issue is that it often comes at a temporary suspense of the narrative;
Movies, when they’re spectacular, the narrative doesn’t move forward,
we pause the narrative and we just watch things move in exciting ways.
The rise of visual effects added a new element to this as filmmakers began to use spectacle
to show off technological advancements.
In his video essay, Kevin B. Lee talks about “The Spielberg Face” as a tool used by
director Steven Spielberg and many other filmmakers inspired by him to specifically cue the audience
that they’re about to see something really spectacular.
In this famous scene from Jurassic Park; we find a great example of how the narrative
slows down to marvel at the revival of the dinosaurs,
a moment which doubles as a display of the film’s achievement in visual effects.
Now, I would say this scene still works because it makes sense within the context of the story;
the sight of a brachiosaurus surely invokes a moment of awe in the protagonists
who were only connected to these extinct creatures through fossils in the desert.
In recent years however, it can be argued that the separation of spectacle and narrative became
increasingly more distinct as many blockbusters films today are filled with impressive visuals
that have little to no meaning to the overall story besides creating brief moments
of excitement before continuing the narrative progress.
In some of the more extreme examples we can even find an almost complete separation of spectacle and narrative.
Take any shot from a Michael Bay film and you’ll see they’re all made to be spectacular
regardless of narrative considerations;
a phenomenon which the channel Every Frame aPainting refers to as “Bayhem”.
Essentially; what Michael Bay does is maximize the amount of information and visual impressiveness
of every shot in his films no matter whether or not the story demands it,
and it is exactly this disconnectedness, this lack of meaning within the story,
that makes the spectacle feel empty and unspectacular.
So how does Gladiator handle its spectacle?
The simple answer is that it completely integrates it with the narrative.
Let’s go back to the opening scene and examine how Ridley Scott captures the Roman victory in Germania
At my signal, unleash hell.
The first thing you’ll probably notice is that the action is pretty disorienting;
a montage of quick cuts and moments of reduced frame rates that make it pretty difficult
to understand what’s happening visually.
Thomas Elssaesar calls this technique “Engulfment”, in which;
Instead of the bounded image, the mode of engulfment works with the ambient image in
which it is sound that now 'locates', 'cues' and even 'narrates' the image, producing a
more corporeal set of perceptions; instead of voyeurism and fetishistic fixation, there
is spatial disorientation; instead of the logic of the ‘scene’, it is semantic clusters,
mental maps, spatial metaphors that organize comprehension and narrative transformation.
Indeed, blurring the image and paying attention to the music and sound effects reveals just
how much of this sequence is communicated in non-visual ways.
Although this disorienting style of capturing action can definitely go wrong,
when done correctly it can place the audience in the middle of the chaos
and invoke a more intuitive response than a more stylized approach would do.
It surely makes a moment like this;
feel much more visceral than something like this;
But the most important question is; what purpose does all this serve to the narrative?
First; it establishes and connects us to the main protagonist Maximus,
who we meet as a man of honor and virtue; well-loved among his men.
He’s a successful general, yet one who desires to go home to his wife and child.
As we learn later he is someone who only fights when he absolutely has to;
when there’s meaning to it.
I am required to kill, so I kill, that is enough
The engulfment technique of his combat scenes, being more visceral than they are spectacular,
serve to showcase these character traits and connect us closer to him on an intuitive level.
The opening scene also establishes the character of Commodus;
Have I missed it?
Have I missed the battle?
Arriving late at the scene, he forms an immediate contrast to the bloodied Maximus;
and his words of sacrifice feel empty and insincere;
Father, congratulations,
I shall sacrifice a hundred bulls to honor your triumph.
Commodus learns that his father plans to turn Rome into a democracy,
and kills him so that he himself can become the sole ruler of the great empire.
Maximus, whose loyalty lies with Marcus Aurelius, is sentenced to be executed.
Your family will meet you in the afterlife.
He manages to escape, but is unable to save his wife and child
and ends up a slave sold to a gladiator school.
Gladiators, I salute you.
Here we get into the main narrative of the film; a story of personal vengeance,
but also one of political redemption.
Maximus seeks to get revenge on Commodus and bring democracy back to Rome,
while Commodus seeks to secure his rule as its emperor.
Both, as it turns out, need to win the favor of the crowd to achieve their goal.
To this end, Commodus calls for 150 days of gladiator games;
a series of spectacles to seduce the people of Rome.
I will give the people a vision of Rome and they'll love me for it.
Maximus is first introduced to the arena in the Roman province Zucchabar;
Like the opening battle; the fighting is visceral and efficient, and captured accordingly by Ridley Scott,
but at the end there’s a change; in a moment that most resembles a Michael Bay shot;
Maximus becomes aware of the crowd and the power of the spectacle.
The scene transitions into Commodus’ grand entry into Rome; it is one of the few moments
of pure visual display, and yet it doesn’t serve to show off the ancient city or the
film’s visual effects which even here are used with restraint to keep focus on the characters.
Instead; in a parallel with the famous Nazi propaganda film Triumph of the Will,
the spectacle of visual display becomes associated with the tyranny of Commodus.
It seems as if Ridley Scott wants to warn us that spectacle isn’t just harmless enjoyment,
it can also be dangerous, a tool to seduce, to dull the mind, and establish power over others.
The beating heart of Rome is not the marble of the senate, it's the sand of the coliseum.
He'll bring them death - and they will love him for it.
Ironically; as Richard Rushton points out; it is only by way of this kind of spectacle
that Maximus can achieve victory over Commodus.
Win the crowd, and you'll win your freedom.
I will win the crowd, I will give them something they’ve never seen before.
The gladiator fights allow him to build a name for himself
and eventually he makes his way to Rome; to the Colosseum, the greatest arena of all,
presented here through what could be considered a ‘Spielberg face’
Have you ever seen anything like that before?
I didn’t know men could build such things
But again; the spectacle of the Colosseum is used meaningfully;
to Commodus, it stands as a his vehicle to subdue the crowd.
To Maximus; it’s a heart of darkness, the belly of the beast.
For us; as the the audience, it’s an instinctive sign of their impending confrontation.
What makes the first battle in the Colosseum so compelling is that the action is used
to build towards this confrontation; Maximus doesn’t just have to survive, he must also
win the crowd, get their attention, making the unfolding of the combat,
or the ‘how’ of it, just as important as the outcome.
Whatever comes out of these gates,
We've got a better chance of survival if we work together
Maximus manages to achieve victory in the same way he achieved victory in Germania;
that is; by the virtue of his character.
Under his command, the gladiators fight as one unit in a display of cooperation, purposeful
action and brotherhood, thereby truly giving the audience something they’ve never seen before.
In a way, awakening them from their mindless consumption of spectacle.
My history's a little hazy Cassius, but shouldn't the barbarians lose the Battle of Carthage?
Commodus, curious about the man who just subverted history, decides to meet him,
leading to long-awaited and satisfying confrontation between Maximus and his nemesis.
Here again we see the narrative importance of gladiator’s spectacle;
for it is exactly because Maximus gained favor from the crowd that Commodus is forced to keep him alive.
It is the beginning of their war for Rome; and it is fought on the sand of the Colosseum.
It is here that Maximus defies Commodus and breaks away at his power;
when Commodus shows cruelty, Maximus shows mercy;
And now they love Maximus for his mercy,
so I can't just kill him or it makes me even more unmerciful.
when Commodus shows weakness, Maximus shows strength;
Today I saw a slave become more powerful than the emperor of Rome.
and all of it is happening from within the logic of the spectacle.
So instead of merely posing as a critique on spectacle, can we argue, as Richard Rushton proposes;
that Gladiator presents the thesis of "spectacle as revolution"
Marcus Aurelius had a dream that was Rome, Proximo.
This is not it, this is not it!
Indeed it seems that it was exactly the spectacle of the arena that allowed Maximus to inspire those around him
as his fellow gladiators, once mere tools of empty spectacle, find purpose is his cause.
Ultimately leading to a one on one fight in which Maximus finds redemption by defeating Commodus.
Just before Maximus too perishes, democracy is returned to Rome, and as Commodus is left in the dust,
we witness one last moment of spectacle, but this one belongs to Maximus.
Gladiator demonstrates how spectacle can be used creatively for narrative progression,
character development and thematic exploration.
It shows the potential to turn spectacle into a meaningful story,
one that doesn’t use action and excitement for reckless or excessive display,
but one that uses it deliberately and purposefully,
because I think that more than anything, Ridley Scott wants to reminds us that spectacle is powerful;
and it should be used responsibly, virtuously even,
to highlight those aspects of humanity that are truly worth honoring.