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2004 is rapidly turning into the
year of the historical epic. First we had Mel Gibson’s The Passion of
the Christ, now Troy, with King Arthur and
Alexander still to come. For the last forty years, the epic has been
a largely ignored genre, with “sword and sandal” epics such as Troy”
fairing particularly poorly. But now the epic is back, and suddenly film
stars and famous directors are queuing up to sign on to the film world’s
equivalent of a school history trip.
Strangely, it was actually films
based in the highlands, rather than the Holy Land that got the ball
rolling again. The release of Rob Roy and Braveheart
(1995) within a month of each other, combined with their relative
success, marked the genre’s re-birth. They were soon followed by Ridley
Scott’s Gladiator, and now The Passion, Troy, Arthur
and Alexander. Rumour has suggested a variety of historical
characters as likely candidates for Mel Gibson’s next biopic. He is fast
becoming the next Cecil B. DeMille.
In their absence the phrase
“epic film” has mutated to cover a multitude of films. Nowadays, it’s
almost a euphemism for a long film with a big budget. Part of this is
because it isn’t easy to define the genre. As Charlton Heston once
quipped “defining an epic is only slightly less complicated than making
one”. And he should know. Perhaps the best definition takes into account
the similarities between the epic film and epic literature. In other
words an epic film is one that invests into its historical story myth,
romance, meaning and magic (or miracles).
The success of this year’s
offerings may decide whether this is a genuine epic revival, or merely a
blip. Five years separated Braveheart and Gladiator, so
audience saturation was hardly an issue then.The Passion’s
success can be put down, largely, down to clever grass roots marketing,
particularly to / with / by the Christian community. However, if Troy
and Arthur do well it would bring a new wave of historical
films, and if Alexander succeeds as well, we could find ourselves
back in the 1950s, to most the golden age of the ‘epic’ film.
Then, it was DeMille’s 1949
Samson and Delilah that got the ball rolling, and Old Testament
films such as The Ten Commandments (1956), Solomon and
Sheba (1959), Esther and the King (1960), The Story of Ruth
(1960), and The Bible (1966) all followed in a seventeen
year period. “New Testament” films were just as popular, although most
dealt with fictional stories of the early Christians, rather than
biblical stories themselves. The Christ films Kings of Kings
(1961) and The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) cautiously
released after a ten year period which saw at least 8 other
Roman-Christian Epics, such as The Robe (1953) and Ben Hur
(1959), showing in theatres.
Less prevalent were the
non-biblical ancient epics such as Helen of Troy (1953) and
The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964). Its interesting that
Spartacus (1960) tags on an introduction which prefigures Christ,
almost as if it risked box office failure if it failed to provide some
biblical basis for its existence.
The success of the genre in that
period could be put down to many things. The grand spectacle that these
films provided, the supposedly more Christianised society into which
they were released, their sense of fun, the appeal and familiarity of
their stories and their big named actors all added to the appeal.
However, part of their success undoubtedly lies in the genre’s ability
to work within the restrictions placed upon the industry at that time.
After DeMille’s Epic The Sign of the Cross, there was a backlash
against movie (im)morality and the Hayes Production Code was brought in,
which dictated what was and wasn’t appropriate for films to show. Chief
amongst them were restrictions on sex, and evil going unpunished.
It took 16 years for DeMille to
work out a way round it. Filming stories from the bible, practically
required characters to be scantily clad in order to be “historically
accurate”, but ultimately Christian morality would win the day. Loose
living would get its comeuppance, the audience could leave titillated
but feeling pious. Thus the code would be satisfied. Once more
immodestly clad stars could parade around, flex their muscles and fall
in love without interference.
Ten years, and a glut of
biblical epics, on after Samson and Delilah (1949) and the
production code’s grip had begun to weaken, and the Epic’s niche market
began to wither. Deprived of their monopoly, epic filmmakers sought to
diversity and actually began to take the bible seriously. Two films were
made on the life of Jesus, King of Kings (1961) and The
Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), replaced the sex and romance with
genuine morality, and, as a result, sunk without trace. The genre went
into retirement. Whereas the first golden era of the epic had been
forced into hibernation because of too much sex, the second age closed
because of too little, and it looked like the days of swords, sandals
and sex were over for ever.
So it’s surprising to find
ourselves at the brink of an ‘epic’ revival. Yet like a former detective
in a cliched buddy cop film, the genre has been dusted off and brought
back into centre stage. Five or so films in, and if the takings for Troy
are anything to go by, it’s doing as well as ever. That said the genre
has clearly changed. Four of the five epics may have contained a
romantic angle, but in none of them has it been so central to the plot,
or the visuals as in the earlier films. There is still plenty of flesh
on display, arguable more so than 50 years ago, but relative to other
films today, even Troy is relatively conservative.
The biggest difference though
seems to be regarding the role of violence. In the earlier films fights
and battles were present, but the excitement was all about the outcome.
Now, violence seems somehow more central. The Passion was cited
by some as one of the most violent films of all time, Gladiator,
effectively gave you the best seat in the amphitheatre and offered
little critique to the violence it was so keen for the viewer to enjoy.
Rob Roy, Braveheart, and Troy also seem keen to dwell
on the violence for far more keenly than their predecessors. Whereas the
older epics tempered their titillation with Christian piety, the newer
ones seem happy to dwell on violent eye candy so long as their heroes
can talk about how, really, they only want peace. This seems perhaps not
dissimilar from certain foreign policies that promulgate war claiming it
will bring peace. But then the Epic has always given some tacit approval
to the values of the day via their subtext. Many 50s era epics endorsed
McCarthyism, plotting a freedom-loving nation under God against a
ruthless “dictator (pause) such as Ramsees”.
However, that is not to say that
the genre has moved on uniformly, if anything the modern films are more
diverse. The Passion is by far the most serious epic film ever
made, and both it and Gladiator express an interest in
spirituality which uncommonly central to their protagonists motivations.
On the other hand both Troy and King Arthur have dealt
with stories universally accepted as myths, but have sought to strip
certain elements away from them in some form of demythologisation. This
is a not a particularly new phenomenon. Jesus films from the last forty
years have exhibited an increasing tendency to exorcise the certain
aspects of the original texts. However, there comes a point whereby this
demythologisation begins to look like the filmmakers cutting off the
branch upon which they are sat. Firstly the process is highly
subjective, whilst certain elements are fairly likely to be mythical
there are frequently differences of opinion on some of the other
material, even amongst those committed to a demythologisation process.
One only has to look at the differences amongst various members of the
Jesus Seminar to see that. Secondly, in many of these stories it is the
mythological elements which give the story its appeal. It will be
interesting to see whether the story of King Arthur has any interest
once the supernatural and romantic elements have been purged. Thirdly,
to strip an epic story of its mythological elements is really to move it
to another genre. One might call it a reconstructed historical film, but
not an epic.
Finally, if you are going to
demythologise properly one cannot just focus on the supernatural
elements and ignore other potential areas of exaggeration such as the
scale of the armies involved. And it is here that the filmmakers risk
the branch going snap. Pursue the theory to its logical ends and one of
the central appeals of the genre - its awesome scale – should really
disappear as well, and all that eye-popping, crowd-pulling CGI vanishes
with it.
That said it would certainly be
a mistake to pull apart films such as Troy because it is uneven.
It may very well be, sure, but then so are the original texts. To
subject such a film to serious historical criticism would be to take it
far too seriously. Delightfully two of Troy’s real strengths are its
ability not to take itself too serious, and its sense of fun. True, the
graphic violence means that it certainly shouldn’t be fun for all the
family as in the epics of old (although some have made the mistake of
automatically equating the genre as a whole as family entertainment),
but it pleasing to see at least some of the fun element of the 50s epics
being retained. Pitt’s bulging well-oiled muscles, campy outfits and
forced, cheesy dialogue bring memories of Victor Mature and Charlton
Heston flooding back.
Arthur
seems to have spurned this approach, perhaps limited by the dress
requirements of medieval England, but more than likely just preferring
to maintain some dignity. Whether that means audiences will take it more
seriously remains to be seen. Troy’s story is grander and more
epic, and its cast more impressive, but tales of Arthur perhaps
hold more general appeal. Those people who love the more familiar
romanticised versions will likely be drawn to King Arthur (even
if they then find that they disapprove of the film). Meanwhile, its
demythologising approach may attract those who are looking for another
celtic / Braveheart type film. Then again, perhaps Oliver Stone’s
reputation and experience may mean that his Alexander conquers
all. History, as they say, will be the judge.
- Matt Page
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