I dieci gladiatori (Ten Gladiators, dir: Gianfranco Parolini, 1963)

I actually sat down to watch I dieci gladiatori thinking it was a non-biblical Italian peplum as part of my research into Italian cinema. Having seen a lot of the biblical pepla, I've been feeling the need to ensure I understand the broader context. Imagine my surprise then when it began to emerge, even as early as the credits, that this was, if not a full blown New Testament film, it was at least a partially blown Roman-Christian epic.

The first clues are laid down during the credits sequence which indicates its determination to grab onto the coat tails of Quo Vadis (1951 but possibly 1913 also). Not only does it star Dan Vadis as the leading gladiator Roccio, but the filmmakers even seem to choose Vadis-esque English names for some of the other cast members, such as Susan Paget, Margaret Taylor (eerily similar to the stars of Quo Vadis, Deborah Paget and Robert Taylor). Neither name appears in the IMDb credits, which supports my suspicion that they were just featured so prominently to catch a glimmer of Quo Vadis's glamour.

The similarities with Mervyn LeRoy's 1951 epic only deepen the film continues. After some opening fight scenes between the titular ten and various Roman soldiers we're introduced to Nero and realise that while Gianno Rizzo's performance is a little more restrained it's only a matter of time before Rome begins to burn and the finger of suspicion falls on the Christians.

While none of the main characters are Christians we do get another staple of the Roman-Christian genre, a scene of a church meeting in the catacombs (pictured above). This is all part of plot by one of Nero's advisors Tigellinus to frame, and thus eliminate another, Lucio Vero. Vero, played by director Gianfranco Parolini himself, is a pagan (half way between Vadis's Marcus Vinicius and Spartacus's Crassus). Tigelinus and his men drag him to the catacombs and then accuse him of being a Christian so he ends up in the arena.

But there is the tantalising shot above of this church meeting. We're not told who this man is, but the implication (based on how the equivalent scene is put together in Vadis) that this is if not actually St. Peter, someone that will make you think of Peter. Perhaps a leader in Peter's mould.

The other thing that is interesting about this scene is the dialogue. The snippet of the church service we hear says (according to the subtitles) "Our consciences are full of our sins. And even if one day we still fall prey to human violence, we have to accept this violence." It doubtless sounds better in Italian, but it's not something that seems particularly reminiscent of anything. More interesting is Tigellinus's withering comment afterwards, "Filthy bums who worship a thief who died on a cross". Even on the lips if an enemy of Rome that's quite a shocking for an Italian film to say about Jesus. Remember Pasolini had been prosecuted for La Ricotta's lack of reverence to Jesus just a few months before

But there's another strange thing about the films portrayal of Christians. Later as a group of Christians are about to be sent into the arena we see another church-type meeting, again being led by an older man with white hair (above). Here the arrangement of the characters is less formal (more of a circle than in rows facing him as before) and he's speaking as the camera pans by, but it's a different man, (although, even more than before, he resembles Vadis's Finlay Currie). Is either man meant to be St. Peter? Are they meant to be te same man or not?

But perhaps the most explicitly Christian image of the film comes after this arena scene (which leads to the burning of Rome) Seeking to blame the Christians, Nero starts rounding them up and persecuting them. Caught up in proceedings is Roccio's friend Livia (it's a bit ambiguous whether the two are, or have been, lovers, or if they're just good friends). And so Nero and starts tying them and her to crosses and torturing them and so we get the rather striking image below.

Dieci gladiatori was released as Ten Desperate Men at one stage in the United States. It's super camp and there's a too much gymnastics, body oil and beef cake on display to give much weight to the proceedings even with some fairly graphic (for the time) on display. This gives the film a rather uneven feel, it almost feels like two different films. The ten gladiators seem far closer in spirit to the merry men in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) than the comrades in arms in Spartacus (1960). Those parts are fun, but seem so alien to today's portrayal of men in historical epics. On the other hand, the body count is quite high and the implied violence combines with the onscreen violence to bring a dark edge to proceedings. Nevertheless, the scenery looks good and the costumes, (aside from being a little skimpy) look splendid.

This mix of men pals and and even mix of violence, fun and gymnastics is not unusual for Parolini. Six years later he directed a war movie called 5 per l’inferno (Five for Hell) which featured soldiers with a number of gimmicks. He's best remembered though for directing two of the Sabata trilogy starring Lee van Cleef. The same year as 10 Gladiators, he also directed Maccabean epic Il vecchio testamento (The Old Testament), his second film with a somewhat misleading, biblical-sounding title following Sansone (1961).

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If you want to see this film, it's currently available to view with subtitles on Peplum Paradise's channel on YouTube. They've upscaled it which is gives a cleaner version of the film than has previously been available, (It does mean that some of the screen grabs I've used from the film look a little bit odd if you look too closely).

Jone o Gli ultimi giorni di Pompei (Ione or The Last Days of Pompeii, 1913)

Set, famously, in 79AD, film adaptations of Edward Bulwer-Lytton's 1834 novel "The Last Days of Pompeii" do not usually cross into Bible film territory. However, the 1935 Hollywood version (my review) by the directors of King Kong Ernest B. Schoedsack and Merian C. Cooper somehow manages to shoehorn Jesus into the picture and so I'm always keen to see other versions of the story just in case. Plus I'm just a big fan of Roman peplum films anyway.

So the recent showing of one of the two 1913 Italian versions of the film at Kenington Bioscope's Seventh Silent Film weekend proved irresistible: It ticks all my boxes, as a love of Italian cinema, silent movies and the potential for a biblical character as well.That potential is only slight. In the novel – itself inspired by Karl Briullov's painting "The Last Day of Pompeii" – four characters end up being Christians (after Olinthus converts Apaecides and Glaucus and Ione convert later), but there are no biblical characters from what I recall.

As it turned out, I was to be disappointed on the biblical characters front: The film sticks in its lane and doesn't even really explore the Christianity angle. Nevertheless I thought I may as well record a few thoughts here while I was at it.

As I mentioned above 1913 witnessed two Italian versions of the story being made. The more famous one, directed by Eleuterio Rodolfi and possibly Mario Caserini (who was one of the earliest Italian cinema pioneers, directing a stack of Shakespearean and historical films) is simply called Gli ultimi giorni di Pompei (a literal translation) and had been produced by Ambrosio – one of the major film production companies in pre-WWI Italy, based in Turin. You can view it on Wikipedia. The handouts/notes for the day, written by the Italian silent historical film expert Ivo Blom identified this as the original film. Apart from anything, it was Ambrosio who had had success with the 1908 version. Blom explains that 

"when Ambrosio heard that the rival company Pasquali, their city rival, was going to release an equally ambitious, impressive film on the same subject and launched at the same time, they were seething. Yet not even appeals to the court could stop the release of Pasquali's version which had its premiere in Rome four days after the Ambrosio version". 

Yet aside from local rivalry, there were other reasons why both companies may have set their hearts on adapting Bulwer-Lytton's novel. Firstly, earlier in the year another adaptation of a 19th century novel based on the mid-first century Roman Empire had enjoyed huge success. To say the 1913 Quo Vadis? was a groundbreaking movie is something of an understatement: it redefined the possibilities of what historical cinema could be, set the bar to a new height in terms of spectacle and grandeur and was celebrated across the globe. So film producers did what film producers tend to do and looked for the nearest bandwagon they could jump on. Ben-Hur was tied up in a legal case, but Last Days was evidently very much available.

The other key motivation was that Vesuvius (very much the villain of the piece) had erupted again in 1906, killing 100 people and activity began stirring again in 1913 (though not as dramatic) so despite the story being set 1850 years in the past, it had particular modern relevance.

I've yet to see the Ambrosio version, but, sadly the Pasquali version (directed by Giovanni Enrico
Vidali and Ubaldo Maria del Colle) was kind of dull. Not knowing the story, it was hard to get much sense of the plot, particularly as the available intertitles were displayed too briefly to be able to read them. I'm not sure if any other prints of the film still exist, but were it to ever get a DVD/ digital release I hope they extend the duration of the title that remain.

From what I could work out, though, Nydia, a slave/servant with a visual impairment, essentially helps Glaucus and Jone escape the evil (pagan) priest Arbaces (played by Vidali, one of the directors). The individual scenes feel very much like they could have been shot in a early 20th century country house and are fairly pedestrian, but for the fact that Suzanne De Labroy who plays Nydia overacts quite badly.

There were a couple of shots of the crowd, big shots designed to impress and to showcase the 300 people who purportedly starred in the film, but the camera angles were very unconventional, betraying a sense that they didn't have have enough extras to fill a normal shot and so had to cram the ones they did have into a narrow frame. The production also advertised “100 lions and tigers” and they, along with the wider amphitheatre shots are the highlight, ably abetted by the horses. 

What I did find interesting, however, is the way the film adopts Maggi’s innovative stumble-past-the-camera shot as seen in both Ambrosio's earlier Last Days (1908) and his later Giuda (1911). It’s not an exact reproduction,  but it certainly seems like a nod. Or was it just a rip-off? Perhaps it was a way to leave audiences thinking they had seen the Ambrosio remake – that seems a little far fetched though.

Sadly. in contrast with the 1908 film, the climax of the Pasquali film was a little disappointing. Things descended into chaos, but the moment the volcano erupts felt a little sedate. But perhaps that's on me. Perhaps, with a serious volcanic eruption lodged in the collective memory, too great a proportion of the film's potential viewers might object to over-the-top, Hollywood-style, pyrotechnics.

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For a different (and, lets face it, better) take on the film have a look at the review of my blog-twin Paul Joyce over at his IThankYouArthur blog who reviewed the whole day.

Sansone (Samson, 1961)

I'm writing on, reading about and teaching on Italian cinema at the moment and have a session on the 1950s peplum films in a few weeks, so I thought it was time I watched Gianfranco Parolini's Sansone (Samson, 1961) as I've never seen it before. It was a film that I had looked into a little when I was compiling my book, but couldn't remember all the specifics of why I decided to include I grandi condottieri (Samson and Gideon, 1965). It was practically the only film to cover the story of Gideon and that was all I remembered.

Turns out that another big factor is that, despite the title, Parolini's Samson has nothing, really, to do with the biblical strongman, aside from the characters' mythical super-strength. As I mentioned in my list of films "about" Samson many of the Italian-produced Samson films from this era "have very little to do with the Book of Judges". 

Indeed these peplum films all play pretty fast and loose with the original stories of their heroes, even to the extent that the names of the title characters changed from country to country. For example, the strongman hero of Giovanni's Pastrone's Cabiria (1914) – Maciste – was then made the star of many of his own films,[1] such as Maciste nella valle dei re (1960) and Zorro contro Maciste (1963), but these titles were changed in English language regions to Son of Samson and Samson and the Slave Queen respectively.

In this case, the title in English regions was a straight translation (Samson) but in France it was released as Samson contre Hercule – Samson against Hercules. That would clue most people in to the fact that this is very much a new story spinning off the mega success of Le fatiche d'Ercole (Hercules) three years earlier in 1958, the film which is usually credited with sparking the peplum trend in Italian filmmaking. Hercules does not feature in the Bible. Interestingly, in both English and Italian this character is called Hermes (these days renown as a popular mail delivery service) but not generally regarded as a legendary strong"man" who might be passed off as Hercules (as he was in Spain as well as France). Ironically one of the traits if Hercules in these films is his association with pulling huge chains. Here though, it's Samson (played by Brad Harris, who starred in Il vecchio testamento (1963)) who gets that particular task (see below).

So in fact the film has nothing really to do with the biblical story. There's no Delilah, lion-wrestling, woman from Timnah, honey riddle or jawbone of an ass, or even a mention of God or the Israelites, just a super-strength hero running around in little more than his underpants. 

Plot-wise the film is fairly conventional, fitting neatly into the broad plot summary given by Robert A. Rushing in his book on the peplum "Descended from Hercules" 

A cruel, unjust, and foreign ruler has usurped the throne and oppressed the people. There can be minimal variations in this setup – for example, the unjust ruler may not be foreign but instead may be manipulated by foreign agents; he may be the proper, just ruler, but under a magic spell (cast by a foreign agent); or the unjust ruler may be an evil, seductive (often redheaded) queen – but the basic structure is always the same. Hercules must depose this cruel oppressor and free the people by restoring the legitimate ruler to the throne. The strongman is almost always a disinterested outsider with minimal or no ties to the throne in question; any suggestion that he could be a political threat or represent the forces of instability and anarchy is completely absent.[2]

Here there is a seductive queen, Romilda (Mara Berni) who is being manipulated by Serge Gainsbourg's "weasel-like" Warkalla who as Barry Atkinson goes on to point out never really convinces you that he "could boss whole legions of hard-bitten soldiers around.[3] Samson and Hermes (peplum regular Sergio Ciani aka Alan Steel) team up along with two of Samson's sidekicks and after seeing off scores of soldiers many, many times, manage to return the kingdom of Sulom to its rightful (boy) king.

There are a few good moments. Samson's tug of war across a fire-pit with a whole troop of soldiers (pictured above) sticks in the memory. As does a scene where the spiked walls on Samson's cell gradually close in on him (powered by a group of soldiers working a slave-powered mill - similar to that Victor Mature pushes at the end of DeMille's 1949 take on Samson and Delilah). Simultaneously, the mechanism also stretches out Samson's female friend Janine (Luisella Boni). It's tempting to think this scene may have inspired the walls closing in scene from the original Star Wars (1977), but that seems a stretch even if it's impossible to to think of that scene when you see this one.

Speaking of Janine, there's very little chemistry between she and Samson, or between him and either of the other two significant women in the film, even though he has scenes alone with all three of them. Indeed the only real chemistry seem to be between Harris and Steel. Otherwise it's all fairly lacking in interest. The scenery and cinematography look good though.

Incidentally, I kept going back and forth about whether to watch this one in the Italian dub or the English one (pepla rarely use live sound and often actors recorded their lines in the own language. There is no "original" version so to speak), and eventually went for the English which paid off. Although Harris gets surprisingly few close-ups or even mid-shots, he does get a sizeable chunk of the dialogue and I didn't find the dubbing of the other characters as troubling as it is sometimes.

So this isn't required watching for Bible film enthusiasts, but it's a reasonable example of Italian peplum even if it's hardly the sub-genre's finest.

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1 - Wikipedia currently lists 29 Maciste films (including Cabiria) in the silent era and a further 25 during the 1960s as well as a couple by Jesús Franco in 1973.

2 - Rushing, Robert A. (2016) Descended from Hercules: biopolitics and the muscled male body on screen,  Indiana University Press, pp.13-4.

3 - Atkinson, Barry (2018) Heroes Never Die: The Italian Peplum Phenomenon 1950-1967, London: Midnight Marquee Press. p.133 & p.134.