Hail the maximum sword and sandal movie. Gladiator tells a relatively unadorned story stupendously well. Its great star – Russell Crowe – fights above his weight class, delivering a superman performance while hewing to his characteristically understated readings.
Highly watchable then and now, Ridley Scott’s grand production succeeds from the fascinating and compelling battle scenes at the start through the gallant martyr scene at the end.
Delivering state of the art entertainment, this is as good as Hollywood gets.
Maximus Crowe has starred in lots of huge movies, none more mondo than Gladiator.
Joaquin Phoenix – pre-Johnny Cash – plays the regal bad seed in murderously narcissistic and characteristically addled fashion. It’s damn near typecasting.
Connie Nielson – suitably desirable and simmering – plays his incestuous fascination, kind of like the young Angelina Jolie.
Snarling tigers springing from the Coliseum floor, fascinating glimpses of Rome in her glory, great lines from start1 to end2, this film has it all.
1 “There is no one left to fight, sire.”
2 “I have only one more life to take. Then it is done.”
Well executed violence and titillating sexuality make for lusty viewing.
Impressively lifelike: the CircoReality – while historically fictitious – seems entirely plausible in a Hollywood sort-of-way, while Crowe’s Maximus BioReality is less than your normal James Bond imperviousness.