Quo Vadis (1924)

Gabriellino D'Annunzio and Georg Jacoby's 1924 Italian silent is not one of the more popular adaptations of Henryk Sienkiewicz's 1896 novel "Quo Vadis?", but it has now been given a decent restoration by Nederlands Filmmuseum who have made it available to watch on YouTube. 

Italian cinema found itself in a precarious state after the First World War. While the European nations were fighting among themselves, the American film industry was migrating to Hollywood (especially over the period 1911-1916) and making the most of the lack of competition from overseas. The resulting economic problems in much of Europe saw the number of Italian-made films dropped off from 371 in 1920 to just eight a decade later (1) as Mussolini's Black Shirts took power.

In an attempt to rally, Arturo Ambrosio attempted to return to the historical films of Italian silent cinema's glory days, namely Cabiria (1914) and, more pertinently, the 1913 version of Quo Vadis? Despite it's huge budget, the film flopped and, alongside the similarly disastrous Gli ultimi giorni di Pompei (The Last Days of Pompeii, 1926) took down the Italian epic for over a decade.(2)

Despite the public derision at the time (3), the film is pretty good. Certainly the expensive sets and costumes still look remarkable, particularly the scenes of Rome burning and the resultant punishment of the Christians in the arena are massive in scale, but not lacking in detail. The only off thing here is how most of the arena shots seem to be set in the Colosseum, but then suddenly they are in an arena big enough to host a chariot race (which presumably would have taken place in the Circo Massimo). Initially I thought that this was some used footage from the initial, disastrous, Italian-based shoot of Ben-Hur (1925), but a closer examination of the architecture of the arena remains consistent, even if the camera's placement feels like a little break in the continuity. 

Biblical content

The film is a bit more faithful to the book that the most famous 1951 adaptation, although it plays with the order a little and whereas the book (and the 1951 version) features both Paul and Peter, here Paul's  part is all rolled into that of Peter. So it's Peter that counsels the Christian heroine Lygia (American Lillian Hall-Davis) towards the start of the film.

We get several scenes inside the catacombs, included the shot above, where the lighting and composition are just beautiful. The use of the slope here is not just aesthetic, it enables Peter to be portrayed as still the humble fisherman of the Gospels, but also as a towering, elevated figure, already far closer to heaven than those who follow him. Of course, given this film was made where is it was, when it was, it's not surprising to see Peter's role built up and given primacy in this way.

There are also several scenes/moments not found in the book. Of particular relevance here is the flashback to the Via Dolorosa in the lead up to Jesus' crucifixion. Unlike the 1951 film, D'Annunzio and Jacoby are happy to show Jesus's face, not only from a distance, and then in a mid-shot, but also miraculously wiped onto Veronica's cloth. The quality of the image in this footage is significantly distorted compared to the rest of the film. I almost wonder if this too is a later insertion, either from an earlier Jesus film (or a significantly degraded later one) or of footage that was originally left on the cutting room floor. You can see what I mean at 1h42m17s.

Lastly, from a Bible-adjacent context, we get Jesus' appearance on the Appian Way (I guess the intention here might be to juxtapose the Via Dolorosa scene with the Via Appia Antica, particularly as they appear just 5 minutes apart). Here Jesus is shown (above)  as only a largely transparent, ghostly figure and his brief appearance is marred by a rare bit of damage on the filmstock. Peter does say the words "Quo Vadis, Domine?" before they fade into the translation. Interestingly the film has Peter persuaded by his closest confidants to leave Rome, so Jesus' rebuke seems a tad harsh,

Quo Vadis? and Fascism

D'Annunzio and Jacoby's adaptation arrived only two years after Mussolini came to power, so came very early in his 21-year regime. In some ways its an unusual choice for a film, at least aside from the previous adaptation proving to be a financial success. Essentially, it's a story that tells the story of an egotistical, Rome-based, dictator, so this could easily be seen as risky territory, particularly given that it concerns his conflict with the church of Rome. That said  D'Annunzio's father Gabriele, had been a significant influence on Mussolini and so this probably afforded the film sympathetic reception.

At the same time "(e)ven before the March on Rome in 1922, the Fascist party had constructed its own identity and legitimised its actions through the tropes of an ancient Rome reborn".(4)

The potentially negative parallel with Mussolini is also offset, or at least made more ambiguous / contradictory (itself a hallmark of small eff fascist filmmaking) by a number of factors. Firstly, while Emil Jannings portrays Nero, as per normal, as a childish, egotistical, psychopath, the film seems to make it clear that this is just him, not his constitutional position.

This becomes particularly true as the film reaches its climax, whereby the legions are described as having "Proclaimed Galba Emperor and are marching on Rome", something we're told "The city welcome". The specific use of "marching on Rome" is a clear reference to Mussolini's own (somewhat mythologised" March on Rome, particularly given it's not how Galba's rise to power is typically described. The fact that Galba held power for just 7 months also seems to have escaped scrutiny.

One further detail on this is that Nero kills himself as a troop of Roman soldiers bear down on him. Learning of his death they turn to their leader (who I think is Vincinius) and give the "Roman" salute (see above) and he returns it, which I suppose brings the Roman church into alignment with the Roman state in a decidedly fascist manner. I should point out that the Roman salute actually derives from the 18th century).

Fascism, crowds and spectacle?

There's a line of thinking that links fascism to the body. James Hay, for example, argues that

By accommodating masses of people, often for whom the central characters acted, the historical spectacles seemed to address a more extensive and consolidated audience. It is no wonder, therefore, that these films became ideal vehicles for presenting nationalistic themes. Through these throngs of extras, mass audiences were given a stake in the films, action, and they were able to visualise on the screen their own collectivity.(5)

Quo Vadis? very much fits the bill here. As with its predecessor and the majority of the biblical epics that have followed, the crowds of extras are seen in numerous scenes: Nero's "regal banquet"; Nero performing his music to a large crowd; the chaotic street scenes as the crows try to escape from Rome's fire; the arena scenes, naturally; and even the underground scenes of the early church at worship. And the sheer size of some of these crowds, in combination with the film's impressive architecture, give the film a sense of spectacle and power

What I find particularly interesting is how these crowds – totally opposed to one another at the start of the film – come together as it progresses. Gradually Nero's retinue deserts him and becomes more sympathetic to the Christians, such that ultimately the crowd in the arena – having turned up to see the slaughter – eventually take the Christian's side (as well as Galba's).

The is reinforced by the use of the camera. In the scenes in the catacombs it is very much located in and amongst the crowd (see top image) whereas in the orgy scene, the camera is typically placed in a slightly elevated position (though to a lesser extent with two-shots etc.). Likewise in the climatic arena scene, initially the camera's eye-line is within in the arena, but gradually switches to a seat in the stands and accompanied by individual reactions of nameless characters in the crowd ("She is a mother" one woman cries as the race wears on). Thus whereas Wyke is correct to observe that "(r)epeatedly, however, as Nero peers through his emerald ring... the camera takes up his point of view", (Wyke 129-30) it is important to note that ultimately that point of view deserts him in favour of the Christians and a more worthy candidate for Emperor.

Body Violence

There are further associations between the body and fascist cinema, both in terms of physical perfection and in terms of suffering, endurance and ordeal. These ideas were put forth by Susan Sontag in her stinging takedown of Leni Riefenstahl's photography book "The Last of the Nuba" (1974) which, Sontag argues, suggests that Riefenstahl's thinking had not moved on as much as she would have the world believe.(6) 

While there is less of a focus on physical perfection here (certainly compared to the cinema of our own day) this film does appear to increase the amount of violence against the human body, particularly compared to other adaptations. Even in the film's opening scene – where Nero relaxes by a fountain surrounded by beautiful women and apparently sycophantic men –  one unfortunate woman is thrown into pool full of Lamprey eels who devour her.   

On top of this we also get:

1. Nero attempting to rape Lygia only for Ursus (Lygia's Maciste-like slave and protector) to intervene and throttle / fishhook the emperor,
2. the burning of Rome, which is more widescale distress than specific body-violence,
3. once Nero blames the Christians, his retribution is to burn them on flaming on crosses. This is shot with some close-ups, and others where those are just the background in a prolonged scene,
4. Petronius and Eunice's suicides, where we see a "surgeon" slicing their wrists
5. Nero's own suicide, by stabbing himself in the neck

Of course, the biggest scene of violence against the body occurs in the arena where we witness various Christians being mauled by lions; dragged through the dirt during a chariot race and then finally Lygia being strapped to the back of a bull who Ursus has to fight with his bare hands.(7) In most of these scenes Nero is not only revels in this violence, but is (sexually?) excited by the cruelty of it. It's noticeable that Poppea (Elena Sangron who also starred in Rome-related Fabiola (1918) and 1925's Maciste in Hell) is not infrequently disturbed by the violence that her husband finds so appealing.

Despite Nero being the only character who seems to enjoy these scenes of torture and violence, and the fact that the film's cartoonish villainization of him takes tings to an extreme, there is still something a bit nasty lurking under the surface of these moments and the way the camera dwells on them.

Overall

I've dwelt on the fascist issues related to this film mainly because the time and place of its release seem pertinent, but cinematically this doesn't deserve to be remembered purely as a film that "flopped disastrously",(8) after it was deemed a "critical failure" and was "poorly received by both critics and the general public".(9) 

I've already mentioned the sets and the costumes, and the lighting, but the colour tinting is nicely used as well (with the exception of the fire scenes where it tends to suffer from low contrast making the scenes fuzzy. It is a little long, one or two subplots over complicate things, but some of the editing in individual sequences is quite impressive. Indeed, the editing is a significant part of the reason why the violent moments are so shocking, particularly the sequences with the lions and the eels. Perhaps Elley says it better in five words than I have in two thousand: "all spectacle and no content".(10) 

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1 - Reich, Jacqueline (2013) "Italian Cinema in the 1920s" in Bertellini, Giorgio (ed.) Italian Silent Cinema (John Libby) p.137.
2 - Scipione l'Africano (1937), set almost 300 years earlier, ended that barren run, in one of the most pro-Fascist films of Mussolini's reign.
3 - Reich, p.137.
4 - Wyke, Maria (1997) Projecting the Past: Ancient Rome, Cinema and History. Routledge, p.128
5 - Hay, James (1987) Popular Film Culture in Fascist Italy: The Passing of the Rex. Indiana University Press, p.152.
6 - Sontag, Susan (1975) "Fascinating Fascism", New York Review of Books, Feb. 6. Available online – https://marcuse.faculty.history.ucsb.edu/classes/33d/33dTexts/SontagFascinFascism75.htm
7 - This said, the terror here is mitigated somewhat by Lillian Hall-Davis being replaced by an unconvincing dummy being tied to the back of the bull instead.
8 - Elley, Derek (1984) The Epic Film: Myth and History (Routledge and Keegan Paul), p.20.
9 - Wyke p.130
10 - Elley, p.20