Starring: Kirk Douglas, Laurence Olivier, Jean Simmons, Charles Laughton, Peter Ustinov, John Gavin, Nina Foch.
Director: Stanley Kubrick.
I really don't know how I feel about "Spartacus." I mean, it's obviously a great film, I'm just not sure how much I really liked it, really....it's odd. At over three hours, it does tend to challenge the attention span, even though it is an visually rich and emotionally charged as any great epic can be. In the end, I feel like there was undeniably great moments in the middle of a somewhat tedious but beautiful overall narrative. In some ways, the scope of the story made this an inevitable outcome, however, so it's hard to judge the film for that weakness...or any weakness, for that matter. No matter what weird moments rubbed me the wrong way, I couldn't really fault it: it's just such an aggressively large epic in all respects.
Despite its running time and undeniably massive scope, "Spartacus" again runs on a sense of simplicity that is drawn out in complicated ways. Like most of Kubrick's work, it tends to be a contradiction. Like "Paths of Glory," there isn't any debate on moral highground: we know slavery is bad, the status-quo allows for slavery, ergo the status-quo is bad. Spartacus himself is not morally ambiguous: we're on his side. We know he's the hero. Yet, despite being a simple good vs evil story, it's highly complex, mostly due to the machinations of the Roman senate, and the power struggles that occur within (these power struggle scenes are kind of the hardest to sit still for: they're very well staged and acted, it just gets...long).
Again, the story is simple: Spartacus is a slave. He gets sold into being a Gladiator. He meets a girl. The girl is taken away, Spartacus begins a revolt, forms an army, and picks a fight with the dickish Crassus, who seeks to rule Rome. As in a lot of Kubrick films, though, the good guy can't catch a break and ultimately is defeated, but his spirit remains unbroken. That's ostensibly "Spartacus" in a nutshell.
Once again, Kirk Douglas is back and gives an excellent performance, though it's not quite as compelling as his performance of Colonel Dax, probably because Spartacus and his story doesn't quite resonate the way Dax and his struggles did. Douglas provides a lot of scowls and growls, and a great amount of physicality that is undeniably arresting, but I never felt like he fully engages the audience as a full-fledged character. In many ways I believe this to be an intentional device on the part of Kubrick and Douglas, though: the inspiration and motivation for the character seems to be derived from the myths of the Greeks and Romans, whose heroes were always somewhat "more than human" and difficult to engage with. Spartacus, like those mythical heroes, stands apart as an "other," his greatness being both a blessing and a curse. He leads, but he is apart. Only his relationship with Varinia provides any real humanity for the character: she brings out the best in him, as Jean Simmons brings the best out of Douglas (except maybe for the combat sequences, where Douglas shows a sense of savagery in every frame: Spartacus is a undeniably a violent man who wishes he wasn't, which is the most fascinating part of him) in their scenes.
Perhaps somewhat underrated, particularly in comparison, is the excellent but thankless job Laurence Olivier performs in this film: one of my absolute favorite scenes comes from Olivier, who sleepwalks through his role as Roman Senator Crassus, the key antagonist. Olivier is, like Spartacus, unconflicted. Crassus is assuredly the hero in his own mind, something of a rarity for cinema in 1960: he doesn't twirl any mustaches, he simply believes he is right. He thinks Slavery is good for Rome, which he probably isn't entirely since it was a Slave economy, even if it is obviously the outcome of a corrupt and morally bereft society. Crassus is an interesting contrast to the General in "Paths of Glory," actually: Crassus doesn't have as much of a sense of ironic self-delusion, even though he tends to represent the same thing, that of the innate immorality of class systems. If nothing else, Crassus's society tends to back his play: from the perspective of Rome, Spartacus is certainly the villain, a changing of the ways of Rome. The film makes great contrast of these stances, actually, never more specific as the film cuts between the speeches of the two respective leaders: Crassus gets hoots and hollars and parades from his people as he speaks of his plan to finally destroy Spartacus, as Spartacus (seemingly not entirely convinced he'll win the battle, which is an interesting performance choice) is listened to with quiet intensity. The ending is a foregone conclusion: both armies seem to know what's going to happen and while one has the moral highground, it does not have the sanction of the masses.
The most interesting scene from Olivier, though, is one I alluded to above. Crassus, now in possession of a male slave, takes a bath and orders this new slave to towel him off and provide him with a robe. Centered in the frame within a great hall, we watch as Crassus speaks in a roundabout way about his bi-sexuality. It's such a beautiful and fascinating scene, riveting in its use of double entendre, and even in it's lighting: Crassus and his slave seem to be entirely alone in the world, surrounded by light and shadow that seems to be at war with itself. Gorgeous scene.
Final Thoughts: "Spartacus" is an extraordinary epic that unfortunately can't entirely justify its running time, even though at times its pure sense of spectacle and grandeur is almost unlike anything else in film (and almost certainly was unlike anything else in 1960). Perhaps the coolest thing about watching the film in 2016 is seeing all the films it obviously influenced: after seeing what crowds of thousands of extras really looks like, it makes the CGI masses of films like "The Lord of the Rings" look crass.
Final rating: Three and a half stars.
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