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Peter Ustinov revels in the Status Quo (Vadis) of Imperial Rome |
Director: Mervyn LeRoy
Cast: Robert Taylor (Marcus Vinicius), Deborah Kerr (Lygia),
Leo Genn (Petronius), Peter Ustinov (Nero), Patricia Laffan (Poppaea), Finlay
Currie (St. Peter), Abraham Sofaer (St. Paul), Marina Berti (Eunice), Buddy
Baer (Ursus), Felix Aylmer (Plautius), Ralph Truman (Tigellinus), Rosalie
Crutchley (Acte), Nicholas Hannen (Seneca)
In the 1950s, epic films were the way for the movie studios to
defeat the onslaught of television. What better way to best the creeping
presence of the small screen in every home than offering more action, sets,
crowds and colour than could ever be squeezed into that small box in the corner
of the room? Quo Vadis was the first
film that started a wave.
Returning to Rome after years on campaign, Marcus Vinicius
(Robert Taylor) falls in love with a Christian hostage, Lygia (Deborah Kerr).
Gifted Lygia as a reward by the decadent Emperor Nero (Peter Ustinov), Marcus
slowly becomes fascinated by her religion – and more aware of the insanity of
Nero. Petronius (Leo Genn), Marcus’ uncle and Nero’s cynical retainer who hides
his barbs under double-edged flattery, unwittingly plants in the Emperor’s mind
the plan for a Great Fire in Rome. After the mob reacts with fury, Nero kicks
off a persecution of Christians that will end in slaughter in the arena…
There is a charming stiffness to some of this film which
actually makes it rather endearing. Like many films that followed it, this
balances a po-faced reverence for Christian history with a lascivious delight
in sex, destruction and violence. This means the audience can be thrilled by
Rome burning, entertained by Nero’s decadence, watch Christians mauled by Lions
and burned alive – while also being comforted by the triumph of good-old
fashioned Christian values and persuaded the film has some sort of higher
purpose because it ties everything up with a nice faith-shaped bow.
Of course this all looks rather dated today, but back in
1951 this was the studio’s most successful film since Gone with the Wind and the biggest hit of the year: it started a
nearly 15-year cycle of similarly themed religious epics. The money has clearly
been chucked at the screen – the sets are huge, the casts sweeping, the staging
of the Roman fires and Christian sacrifices very ambitiously put together.
Perhaps the only surprise is that the lush, attractive cinematography isn’t in
wide-screen – this was the last film of this kind to not be filmed in the
widest lens available.
Despite its nearly three-hour run time, this is quite an entertaining
story, laced with enough real history to make it all convincing (even if it
telescopes the last few years of Nero’s reign into what seems like a week or
so). Despite this, the storytelling does feel dated at times as we get bogged
down in back and forth about Christianity (told with an intense seriousness by
the actors, mixed with long-distance-stares type performances), and the
homespun simplicity of its message lacks the shades of grey we’d expect today
(as well as being a little dull) but it just about holds together.
The main problem is the lead performers. Robert Taylor is an
actor almost totally forgotten today – and it’s not difficult to see why here.
Not only does he speak with the flattened mid-Atlantic vowels recognisible from
American leads in historical films from this era (the jarring mixture of
accents in the film is odd to hear) but he is an uncharismatic, wooden
performer sorely lacking the power a Charlton Heston would have brought to
this. Marry that up with his character being a dull chauvinist and you’ve got a
bad lead to root for. The relationship between him and Deborah Kerr’s (equally
dull) Christian hostage is based on a terminally dated, borderline abusive,
set-up: he kidnaps her from her home and wants her to change her faith, she
won’t but never mind she loves him anyway without condition and surely her love
will make him a good man, right!
Despite the efforts of the leads and some decent supporting
actors (Finlay Currie in particular makes a very worthy Peter) the Christian
story never really picks up. There are some nice visual flourishes – the
recreation of some Renaissance paintings is well-done, and the stark image of
Peter crucified is striking – but the Christian story isn’t what anyone will
remember from this film. It’s all about the corrupt Romans.
Not only do they have the best lines and all the best
scenes, but in Leo Genn and Peter Ustinov they also have the only actors who
perhaps seem to realise they are not in a work of art, but a campy popcorn
epic. Both actors give wonderfully complementary performances. Genn’s dry wit
as the cynical Petronius (whose every line has a cutting double meaning) underpins
his wry social commentator to fantastic effect, delivering many of the films
laugh-out loud moments. He elevates many of the best lines in a dry but
educated script.
Genn’s low-key performance also brilliantly contrasts with Ustinov’s
extravagance as Nero, making the emperor a sort-of sadistic Frankie Howerd.
Ustinov has enormous fun in the role, cheerfully going up and over the top with
Nero’s man-child depravity, bordering on vulnerability and a needy desire to be
liked and respected by the people and his underlings. Depictions of his singing
are hilarious, his petulant sulking extremely funny. Yes, it’s an absurd
performance – more a comic sketch almost – but it somehow works because (a)
everything else in the film is so serious and (b) Genn’s world-weary cynicism
anchors the character for the first two-thirds of the film, giving Ustinov much
freer reign to go over the top.
So it’s all about the baddies – as was often the way with
films of this era. You’ll remember the scenes of Nero holding court, and the
archly written dialogue between Petronius and Nero. Ustinov and Genn are, in
very different ways, terrifically entertaining (both received Oscar nominations).
The Christian message of the film is on-the-nose (to say the least), and the
lead actors are more like kindling for the Great Fire than actual characters.
It’s a strange film, at times a bloated far-too-serious religious epic, at
others a campy tragi-comedy with a dry wit. Yes it’s dated and far from
perfect, but it’s also strangely entertaining and even a little compelling.
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