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"Gladiator" and visions of the afterlife By Steve Lansingh There's an intriguing line of dialogue toward the beginning of "Gladiator" -- forgive me if it's a bit of a paraphrase, since you couldn't pay me enough to sit through this stinker again -- where the Roman general Maximus (Russell Crowe) psyches up his men before battle, telling them that to die as a warrior is glorious, and in the afterlife they will be a warrior always. "What we do in life echoes in eternity," he says. I believe there is some truth in the statement, and I think it is closer to Jesus' description of heaven than the popular notion of heaven as some sort of reward for faith. Benedictine nun Joan Chittister says in her book "In Search of Belief" that heaven has unfortunately become for the modern person "the depository of everything we ever wanted in life and did not get. [This idea of] heaven is the way a materialist insures a commitment to materialism." I believe heaven is, rather, the fulfillment of faith, the consummation of our quest to know God fully and usher in Christ's kingdom. Maximus' statement, in this context, would then urge me to reflect Christ and seek God in this world -- the exact clarity of purpose that Christ calls us to in the gospels. Jesus also emphasizes the close relation of earth and heaven, describing the kingdom of heaven as both something to come and something that exists already in us. Unfortunately, "Gladiator" later abandons any claim to insight. It presents an image of the afterlife (early in the film, when an untreated wound nearly claims Maximus) that's entirely inconsistent with its earlier proclamation -- and with Roman thought, for that matter. Its version of heaven is lifted wholly from present-day America; it's the "place of unfulfilled wishes and unaccomplished dreams," as Chittister puts it. And this soggy dreamworld bears no relation to Maximus' actions in the film, which are filled with bloodlust and revenge. This major inconsistency reveals two main weaknesses of "Gladiator": It embodies too much of modern America, and it fails at making Maximus a palatable hero. Rather than teach us anything about Rome, or how a different civilization thought about life, "Gladiator" simply has Romans embrace our values today. For instance, the Emperor Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris), who has spent his whole reign expanding the empire and slaughtering innocents, suddenly confesses that what he'd really like is peace, and to return control of Rome back to the people. Or take Proximo (Oliver Reed), a low-life "entertainer" who buys slaves and profits from their deaths, who remarks more than once that entertaining a crowd gives one great power. Sounds an awful lot like a sleazy Hollywood executive, doesn't it? (That the movie makes him noble is both disheartening and insulting; essentially, "Gladiator" is calling us movie fans suckers.) It's also insulting that the director doesn't trust the audience to tolerate any shades of gray Maximus is painted as a loving father, devoted husband, brilliant strategist, friend of the people, courageous in battle, and loyal comrade. His enemy, Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), hates his father, wants to sleep with his sister, crucifies and burns anyone who gets in his way, loves power, disdains commoners, and is named after a toilet. (OK, I made that part up.) But although "Gladiator" left no room for nuance in these two men, I still wasn't rooting for Maximus. Why would I be sympathetic to a man who makes his killings more and more gruesome to delight the crowd? Am I supposed to believe it's OK he spills so much innocent blood to avenge a few other innocents? If "Gladiator" was a true story, I suppose I could at least stomach the carnage as simple history, but since Maximus is a fiction, he seems particularly brutal. With no ray of hope to counter the darkness, Ridley Scott ends up simply recreating the abhorrent gladiator games, and tries to entertain us with them. No thanks.    READER RESPONSES Jeremy Moore I have this idea that Maximus , the main character in the movie Gladiator, is based somewhat on King David. He was from a humble background, elevated to power, then sent into exile, then came back to claim a kingdom. Every time he fought, he reached down to the ground (David and the five smooth stones) Everytime he fought he had a pouch with stones in it. There was a weird dog theme. A shepherd in the beginning, wild and hunted hyenas throughout the rest of the film. Well, until he won the kingdom. Other things, like when his trusted friend wanted to warn him of danger, the scene involved arrows. Um, his master gifted him armor. He was one man fighting the most powerful man in the world. Hey, somebody back me up on this! What do you guys think? Did I miss anything? Oh, yeah, he had the chance to kill Commodus, but didn't take the chance (David in the cave). Ok, just a thought.   James Klassen I read a review of Gladiator before watching the film on the big screen, and the reviewer offered that the story line was basic and, supposedly patterned after the "Bard" himself, told a tale of revenge and bloodlust. After seeing the film, I could not disagree with him more. It seems to me that most films on the big screen are intended merely for entertainment, but while I watched Gladiator it seemed to me that the script writers (and not necessarily the director) had in mind a much larger, more subtle purpose. As I now see that film, the writers intended to use the story of a Gladiator as a vehicle for commentary on the direction of our society, and it is a commentary that, I would venture, escapes most viewers. Consider the character of Marcus Aurelius. Historically, he was a civil, prudent leader who espoused "good morals" (in the sense, I suppose, that a civil society would depend upon) and whose vision of the empire included balance (the Senate as a counterpart to the powers of the emperor), justice and principled leadership. Richard Harris plays this part well, but the character of Aurelius is conveyed to the point of flatness, as if, like Maximus, he has no bad spots, no personal inconsistencies, as if anyone in the empire could have and should have loved that man. Of course, Marcus Aurelius was not all good and evenhanded, but that misses the intent of his characterization in this film. He is portrayed in such a one-sided manner in order to provide a contrast to his immoral son, Commodus. The resulting contrast is quite compelling. Maximus poses as an extension of Marcus Aurelius, really. He is the good son (adopted by Marcus Aurelius in the film), commissioned and able to achieve the unfulfilled vision of the "just society" that Marcus Aurelius could not, because of his age, accomplish. Notably, historically Marcus Aurelius took on the title Germanicus Maximus in 176 A.D., after a severe campaign against the northern barbaric tribes. Is it therefore accidental that the script writers chose the name Maximus for the character who would, in the story line, succeed him. The story is one of visions of a society, and by contrast to that which Aurelius cum Maximus must struggle for, Commodus offers the people a vision of a society built upon, of all things, entertainment. As one Senator in the film says, Commodus will offer the people blood, and they will love him for it. Hence, the reopening of the Colluseum for the purpose of "games" -- the bloody, day to day battles of expendible gladiators. This larger, more subtle purpose of the film is lent to by the rearranging of history, which script writers are always free to do. In this case, however, the story of a gladiator would have worked just as well without such severe alterations, but for an underlying purpose of contrasting visions. By changing the course of history in the story, the writers are able to posit one vision against another, something the actual unravelling of history could not have afforded. As I watched the character of Maximus develop (his character development is not very good, but then again, he is one-sided in his appearance because his characterization serves a larger purpose), I saw a man who was good at fighting but did not relish it. In one of the first gladiatorial scenes, he even shouts at the crowds, "Are you entertained!?", and throws a sword into the stands, as if in disgust. He appears to see through the superficial appeal of gladiatorial entertainment, and like I would suppose his adopted father would have done in his absence, he almost sneers at the barbaric desires of his audience. In the end, one vision prevails over another, but the hero does not emerge from his battle of visions in typical, Hollywood-fairytale form. That, at any rate, is somewhat refreshing. I would venture that most people who throng to see Gladiator go for the action and, as some would expect, explicit violence (it actually isn't that explicit, and more suggestive, because of some finely crafted camera work). Like the masses in the film who filled the Colluseum only to see men hack each other to death (and the bloodier the better), it would seem that most people who want to see this film in the theater are there firstly because of its "thrill" appeal. That, at any rate, would be what many reviewers see, and what the advertising for this film appeals to. I doubt that many viewers would say they subscribe to a society founded upon a vision of entertainment, but that is the irony and critique of this film -- and if its viewers 'get it', as I think I did, then the message of Gladiator can only challenge its viewers to question the purposes of the very industry that spawned its making, and the apparent principles that seem to increasingly govern the vision of our society. I do not often like films that are overtly allegorical, or that convey a "moral." This is one film I have come to appreciate, however, if only because it appears to be something it is not. And if there is anything for Christians to be gained from viewing it, it is to grapple with the question of visions, and what it is that we, as struggling participants in an increasingly immoral society, can do and say that models the relevance of the gospel in a world that loves to be entertained.