Spartacus

The 1960 American historical epic, Spartacus, stands as more than just a big-budgeted blockbuster, as its creation, publication and eventual adaptation all spurned from a group who were in a less hostile, but similar spot to the characters on the page. Originally starting as a 1951 novel written by Howard Fast while imprisoned for being part of the USA Communist Party, this book which told a revised, mainstream-friendly version of the man who lead an army of slaves against the oppressive Roman empire, was meant to be more than just another historical war tale, using the political unrest, societal expectations and revolutionary narrative to mirror ongoing situations in America, mainly the McCarthy trials and the Civil Rights movement. Even though this arguably should’ve made the film a taboo piece of fiction, it didn’t stop the adaptation from being one of the most successful movies of the year, topping box office records and even earning four Academy Awards, showing how this story about fighting a corrupt power was able to pay off on both fronts.

In the First Century BC, The Roman Empire has fallen to corruption and most of the heavy work is done by slaves, who are either sold or made to fight in gladiator pits. One of the chosen gladiators is a Thracian man named Spartacus (played by Kirk Douglas) who is sold to a gladiatorial manager named Batiatus (played by Peter Ustinov) and he and the rest of the slaves are forced to fight in front of powerful Roman senator, Crassus (played by Laurence Olivier) and his entourage after suffering through gruelling training. This doesn’t last long however, as Spartacus and the slaves lead a revolt and escape, deciding to compile an army and travel to Italy by boat. With this growing slave army causing fear among the Roman government, Crassus tries to convince the senate to allow him control of Rome, which is opposed by fellow senate member, Gracchus (played by Charles Laughton) who views this as Crassus trying to throw Rome back into a dictatorship. With two leaders set to face each other in battle, this fight between oppressor and the oppressed becomes a story that will echo throughout time.

Spartacus feels like a standard 1960s epic and suffers with a pretty dull opening, an overly lengthy ending, and some cliches of the genre that aren’t well executed, but as the film progresses, it gets significantly stronger with decent characters, memorable performances, effective scale, and colorful direction.

The history of this film is fairly convoluted and wasn’t as simple as just adding another cinematic epic onto an already extensive pile. It was initially spurned by Douglas, who was disappointed that he missed out on playing the lead in Ben-Hur and tried to get a Spartacus project off the ground with his production company, Bryna Productions. Several hurdles got in the way; Douglas had to compete with Yul Brenner who also planned to release a Spartacus film, Universal decided to assist but weather conditions prevented shooting in Europe, Fast (who was initially hired to adapt his work into a screenplay) clashed with Douglas and fellow screenwriter Dalton Trumbo (who was also recently blacklisted) which led to him being ousted from the writing position, several different directors were switched out and eventual director, Anthony Mann, was gotten rid of by Douglas after 3 weeks of production in exchange for Stanley Kubrick, and all this wasn’t even considering the potential fallout that could come from having so many Communist-leaning individuals handle a massive Hollywood movie (it ironically did help alleviate tensions surrounding the subject ironically). Even with all this pressure to deal with as well as having to construct a three-hour-long feature about a person so mythic even his history isn’t fully fleshed out, the movie turned out pretty nicely.

It’s not safe from flaws, as the opening act is notably boring, with mostly dry acting, an overly serious tone, and a script that spouts standard fare for an American epic. The ending is also weak, as it stretches beyond the point of necessity and seemingly refuses to end, but the middle really feels like a different animal. It becomes a lot more self-aware and distinct in personality, the actors are more charming and memorable, the characters become more interesting, and the parallels in the script finally feel addressed and not just surface level. This might come from Kubrick’s integration, as though he didn’t have creative control over the picture (which explains the lack of surreal imagery and bizarre scenarios), the personality is still apparent in the way the characters interact and how modern the dialogue feels. While this should feel out-of-place, it provides more of a contemporary and even analytical perspective and opens up room for satire, which makes it much more engaging and fresher. With this in mind, the traditional traits of the genre do feel a little watered down by comparison like the visual awe and action spectacle, but if spectacle has to be sacrificed for actual intrigue, it’s worth it.

The characters benefit the most from not being restricted to a typical epic delivery. While these films have their strengths, they normally put more emphasis on the grandeur and cinematic appeal of a scenario rather than the people who took part in it, who usually feel like larger-than-life figures or heroes rather than people, and therefore not as connectable. Whether it’s because of the original novel, Trumbo’s screenplay or Kubrick’s directing, the characters in this movie start as these expected bland stereotypes yet become much more than that as it continues. They still aren’t phenomenally written, but they feel more human and are allowed to showcase more emotion than just being stoic or theatrically extravagant. Kirk Douglas is stuck with a hard task of playing a person like Spartacus who should feel more myth than man, and while he doesn’t have much to work with, he does his best to make him feel like a real person. He talks with his fellow soldiers, he has playful banter with his love interest, he can laugh and cry at times, he doesn’t get a happy ending and isn’t totally okay with it happening to him, he feels so much more truthful than several other epic figures who show no emotion and just kills things. While handled better than expected and really nailing the epic speeches, the supporting cast are more entertaining to watch, mainly those within the Roman empire.

While the slaves get more interesting, few have any defining characteristics or memorable lines to latch onto. The only two that somewhat avoid this are thankfully the most story relevant, that being Spartacus’ love interest, Varinia (played by Jean Simmonds) who gets a few cute scenes with Douglas, and the character of Antoninus (played by Tony Curtis) who defects from Rome and forms a nice bond with Spartacus which results in a bittersweet ending. The Roman senate have a bit more of a bite to their dialogue and personality (mainly because their very nature and government ties into the theme of the entire story), and because of this, the actors are very entertaining to watch. Laurence Olivier has a pretty great character with Crassus, taking what should be a generic ‘’desires power above all else’’ role and making him feel more vulnerable and unsure. Olivier still plays the part with theatricality, but it doesn’t feel out-of-place and has purpose behind it, making for an all-around great performance. John Gavin, Nina Foch, John Ireland, Herbert Lom, and John Dall make for fun cameos, and Peter Ustinov and Charles Laughton are easily the best part of the film. Their characters feel more self-aware than any other role, their banter is memorable and entertaining, Laughton’s character in particular is interesting to watch as he tries to survive in a slowly degrading Rome, and considering Ustinov won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, clearly the rest of the world agrees that he’s one of the best parts.

The look of the film feels like something out of a traditional Hollywood epic, yet it strangely wanted to film exclusively in America as then President of Universal, Edward Muhl, wanted to prevent anymore producers running off to Europe and to prove these kind of big-budget films could survive in Hollywood (some scenes were still filmed in Spain, so it meant nothing anyway). This tragically meant that they weren’t able to film in Rome like Kubrick wished to, but the trade-off is that the set looks very impressive and still captures the gargantuan and aristocratic look of the location very nicely. The film’s art direction (handled by Eric Orbom) and costume design (handled by Valles and William Ware Thesis) both won Oscars, which feels justified as while the regular outdoorsy locations look fine at best, Rome is treated in an appropriately grand and magnificent fashion, feeling in some parts genuine, but also appropriately extravagant, it’s a job well done.

The cinematography by Russell Metty (which also won an Oscar) feels pretty dynamic for a movie made in the 60s and this might’ve come from Kubrick’s almost painfully specific way of framing and directing his shots (which led to a lot of arguing on set). While Metty is a talent in his own right and was attached to several big movies at the time which would’ve given him experience on making this type of feature, the more intimate moments and slower sequences have a fair share of fluid motion and tracking, which feels like a stable of Kubrick, so whoever was responsible did a great job. The action is sadly nothing special and can even look a little too staged, but in the right moments, the more sluggish and unpolished fighting style brings a sense of realism back to a pretty theatrical flick. The musical score by Alex North is so overly composed that it borders of parody at times, but it doesn’t actually ruin anything. Movies of this type can have booming orchestral backing, and since the film does feel more self-aware than its counterparts, it adds another contemporary element that feels noticeable in a fun way.

Spartacus doesn’t have to solely exist as the old film that inspired the classic film trope of a crowd shouting a name to hide someone running from an authority figure (it was strangely used quite frequently) and can hold its head proud as an overall good picture that deserved to stand apart from the crowd. There have probably been other epics that left a stronger impression, and it doesn’t entirely escape the flaws of the genre, but the ones it does sidestep are delivered in a much more memorable fashion, which in turn makes it worth a watch. Some of the side characters are memorable, it’s visually pleasing, the way the film ties in themes of the past with what’s going on in the present are fun and insightful, and while not the smartest or most original, it’s a basic story told in a perfectly solid fashion, so might as well enjoy the rest of the ride.