Oh, brother where goest thou...? Quo Vadis? (1924)

“It fell to Emil Jannings… to depict Nero as a flabby, fatuous, fawning, driveling coward, eager to burst into song and gullible enough to drink in the lying praise of some of the sycophants that gazed into his fishy eyes and noted his loose mouth, his swollen nether lip and his heavy features.”

Mordaunt Hall, New York Times 16^th February 1925

Henryk Sienkiewicz’s 1895 novel, Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero, contributed to his award of the Nobel Prize for literature and fired the imagination of early film makers with its potent mix of epic cruelty, romantic and religious redemption. The author sold the film rights to Enrico Guazzoni in 1912 and the resultant film was one of the proto-epics to beat nearly all others, massive in scale and emotional sweep.

Over a decade later, this Italian German co-production followed on with a cast of thousands, gigantic sets (real and constructed) and the combined star power of Lillian Hall-Davis’ emotional micro-management and Emil Jannings’ protean excess. Larger than life and twice as tiring, his Nero offers Lillian’s frail Licia the world and we cower behind her in the darkness as her faith rises up as the only defence against the monstrous ego of the man who is Empire.

Lillian Hall-Davis

It is a story older than the seven hills and one that operates on levels which resonate today and almost certainly tomorrow… Mad authority blaming ideological insurgents for domestic ills and demonising the non-conformant element as a way of shoring up their own position. 

Tacitus, a secondary source in this instance, is the only one who links the persecution of the Christians directly to the Great Fire of 64AD whilst most implicate the Emperor in the fire although this is also open to debate. As for Nero playing the lyre along to the conflagration, well, it seems fanciful to say the least… infamy, infamy… they’ve all got it in for him. Nero is a mad man for all seasons, a strong leader weakened by vanity who treats life like cheap wine, never crying over spilt blood as he tosses his people casually into the treacherous waters of his seemingly tranquil royal gardens. Eels consume the unfortunates and the fattened fish are his favourite food at banquets, as he grows fat on the product of his cruelty.

You can see the appeal for pre-Great War audiences and no less for those in the early twenties when Germany was still treating potential tyrants as amusing upstarts even after Il Duce had already been established as Italian Prime Minister. No one ever thinks it can happen again do they?

But, whatever happens in affairs of state, love conquers all and this story is about resistance of the heart as well as the soul… Thus Vittelius (Alfons Fryland) learns to both respect and love Licia after having her shipped from her adoptive parents to Nero’s court and then attempting to go straight past “Go” at Nero’s bacchanal only to be re-buffed. Christianity is a civilising force as well as an empowering one.

The1912 film may be more static – tableau style – but it has more urgency and this one feels very much held back by over cautious direction from Gabriellino D'Annunzio (who never directed another film) and his German “minder” Georg Jacoby (who did). Together they produced a film that features many fine moments that are somewhat diluted by the drawn-out narrative in between.

Emil Jannings

From the get-go Quo Vadis? is a contrast in styles between Emil and Lillian – not to mention the rest of the cast. More than the 1912 version and subsequent adaptations – not to mention the similar-in-storyline Sign of the Cross - this is very much Nero’s story and Jannings is the man for the job, setting a grotesquely high bar for Charles Laughton and all of the Nero’s to follow. It’s a fascinating study in unpleasantness and threatens to overpower all around him.

Lillian is steadfast in her blonde wig and whilst not quite looking First Century does carry the compassion and care that her emperor lacks even though Mordaunt the Picker thought her sometimes “methodical in her portrayal”. Gino Viotti makes for a venal Chilone Chilonides, betraying all sides until he finally betrays himself whilst Raimondo Van Riel is a noble Tigellinus, Nero’s general who deserves better.

The statue snogger

Elsewhere familiar characters don’t always stick in the mind as much as their forebears: Rina De Liguoro excels as the statute-snogging Eunice who falls for her master, Nero’s Mandelsonian advisor Petronius (Andrea Habay) who finally reciprocates after having her flogged… not sure what the message is there?

Elena Sangro’s Poppea is regally disappointed in her Nero who only has eyes for almost everyone else, especially Licia, after she encounters their son in the garden. But once the boy has succumbed to illness he blames Licia and all those Christians who protect her.

Nero is losing his tenuous grip on the body politic and dreams of a fire-side poetry performance – which he duly arranges through Tigellinus. Not surprisingly, the citizens of Rome are up in arms and following the suggestion of the treacherous Chilone Chilonides, the Christians have to carry the can and a special entertainment is laid on at the Coliseum.

Elga Brink and uncredited actor - anyone know his name?

Surely all are doomed… but don’t bet against Domitilla (Elga Brink) in the chariot race nor the mighty Ursus (Bruto Castellani, reprising his 1913 role) in a battle to stop a bull to which the frail heroine is precariously tied…

Some of the set pieces look stunning – the chariot race for a start, along with the mass revels and the burning of Rome. I liked the juxtaposition of the Christians praying with St Peter - “There is but one God above all of the others!” - alongside the virtual orgy in the palace - “Glory to Venus! Glory to Bacchus!” - and the tension is well built towards the climax. There are so many characters, a high level of skill is required to cover the ground smoothly and our directors fall just short even if their actors don’t.

It would, of course, help to have had a clearer view – I watched the a video of a screening on Arcoiris TV – the free Italian channel – which appears to have had access only to a so-so copy – good in some parts and terrible in others. Still, at least it does exist in good quality and, if it pleases Jupiter, will be screened properly at some point.

Bruto Castellani

Raimondo Van Riel

Alfons Fryland

Elena Sangro

Andrea Habay and Emil Jannings

Gino Viotti

Crossing the Rubicon… Gaius Julius Caesar (1914)

Based on a true story by William Shakespeare… or something like that, this is a suitably huge take on the life of Julius Caesar featuring something like 20,000 extras and a significant number of horses. Directed by Enrico Guazzoni it represents one of the pre-war highlights of the silent Italian epic along with the same director’s Quo Vadis from 1912.

It doesn’t quite have the ground-breaking bravura of the previous year’s Cabiria but it is impressive none-the-less with densely-packed tableaux, crowded set piece battles and extensive location shooting. As grand gestures go it’s pretty darned grand as befits the man who put the imperial into Rome. The Caesar on display is a man who believes in the nobility of his countrymen and who proves his worth through a breath-taking sequence of military victories having been forced to leave corrupt Roman society.

Amleto Novelli

He’s such a noble leader you have to wonder why there were so many senators willing to contribute to his eventual downfall but they get theirs and far more rapidly than the insurrectionists at the time. Was Guazzoni supporting the right of contemporary Italy to spread out into empire along with Germany, France and Britain? They were there first after all… and whilst every jaded democracy looks back with fondness at their past glories, pasts don’t come much more glorious than Italy’s: for Gaius Julius Caesar… think King Arthur but real and with a much broader remit.

Amleto Novelli and Irene Mattalia

Young Caesar (Amleto Novelli – who was Vinicius in Quo Vadis) is in love with Servilia (Irene Mattalia) and the two share illicit trysts as her family do not approve of their liaison. Her father Cato (Augusto Mastripietri) has promised her to another, Marcus Brutus (Antonio Nazzari), an ally of the Roman dictator Sulla. They are from Rome’s old established families whose republicanism is a self-perpetuating oligarchy that looks after nobility and wants the populace kept in place… in the film any way.

Lovely lighting in this scene don't you think?

Caesar is spotted leaving their meeting place and Cato forces Servilla into agreeing marriage with Marcus Brutus in order to protect Caesar. Caesar is incensed but there is no way out especially as he falls foul of Sulla and is only rescued by the intervention of the Vestal Virgins.

He has to leave Rome and goes off to serve in Asia leaving Servilla to marry Marcus Brutus in misery especially as she is carrying her lover’s child. She tells Marcus who swears to turn the boy against his father… In reality Brutus was not Caesar’s son (his father was Marcus Junius Brutus the Elder) although his mother was indeed Servilla who did later become Caesar’s mistress.

Brutus is turned against his father

It is a long seven years before the dictator dies and it is safe for Caesar to return to Rome, and when he does he is welcomed back by all but the “optimates” who want to protect the status quo. Sadly these now include his young son who has been bought up to believe in the Republic and to hate Caesar’s “populaire” approach.

Caesar is not without friends in his places and he earns a position that see him elected as Consul for southern Gaul in charge not just of the lands but also the army that occupies it. Caesar begins to show stunning vision and leadership and moves his men northwards to expand the Roman territory still further. He ended up being the first Roman to conquer Gaul and also the Germanic lands beyond the Rhine and a hostile, damp island floating in the North Sea.

Under siege

The Gallic Wars are shown in summary form and represented best by the Battle of Alesia in which Caesar’s forces overcame the numerically far superior forces of the mighty Vercingetorix (Bruto Castellani) through discipline and strategic innovation. Fighting his foes on two fronts Caesar had his men dig lethal traps in front and behind whilst also fortifying their position.

Vercingetorix surrenders to Caesar

Caesar returns to Rome controlling all of Gaul but with feelings running high in the Curia Hostilia – the senate meeting house – where Cato leads demands to remove Caesar’s consulship. The famously-loyal Mark Anthony walks out in disgust.

Brutus leads the senate delegation to Caesar’s camp with demands to disband his legion and to accept the loss of his consulship… The soldiers try to kill Brutus but Caesar stops them but Brutus does not express gratitude calling him an enemy of the Republic… which is factually exact.

Crossing the Rubicon

Caesar has little option but to press on into Rome and he drives his army onwards crossing the river Rubicon, the border to Rome, declaring Alea iacta est! (The die is cast!).

Enjoying a triumphant return to Rome, Caesar takes the treasures of Saturn’s Temple to feed his troops – Saus populi suprema lex! (The good of the people is the highest law!)…

His former ally and one-time son-in-law, Pompey (Ignazio Lupi) has gone over to the Republican cause and as Consul provides the opposition but he flees Rome for Greece (Albanian in this film…) berated by Cato and Brutus for being too hesitant…

But Caesar defeats Pompey’s army – his army was smaller but used to victory, battle-hardened and confident in themselves and their charismatic, tactically brilliant leader. Brutus is captured and fears for his life but Caesar tells him he wants him alive for the good of the fatherland and he wants him to rule the lands he captured in Gaul.

Pompey sails off to Egypt, where he is killed at the order of King Ptolemy (Cleopatra’s brother) but Caesar is not pleased… every Roman life is sacred especially that of a former friend.

The Senate

Rome receives the victor with a huge parade celebrating his many conquests… This is a stunning sequence involving many thousands of extras, stretched out over a long procession that takes well over three minutes to snake its way past the camera… I was reminded of the entry of Caesar into Cleopatra in the 1963 film and this sequence was undoubtedly an influence on so many later depictions of Rome…

The big parade...

Caesar is named dictator for life and the establishment reaction spreads… Brutus is pulled back in and agrees to lead the rebellion. Then comes the Ides of March… Caesar is warned but he doesn’t want the Senate to be guarded by his soldiers as enemies. His end comes as the old guard begins its last stand… the age of empire was about to begin and Caesar’s nephew Augustus would soon rule as Emperor.

As for Julius, as the film makes clear, he lives on as immortal history whilst those who conspired against him are forgotten… All that is, save for the man who he may well have viewed almost like a son in his final moments with Roman historian Suetonius claiming he said something like You too, child? as opposed to et tu Brute? as Mr Shakespeare suggests. Others report, however, that he said nothing at all…

Gaius Julius Caesar is one of the last of the Italian silent spectaculars and it remains enjoyably paced – it has to be to cram all of the above narrative into just over two hours! Yes the camera movement is minimal and stately but what it shows are a succession of often striking compositions, notably when Caesar stands silhouetted in blue against a deep red setting sun: the majesty of the lost art of tinting.

The film doesn’t appear to be available on home media but you catch it in reasonable quality on YouTube.

The golden age of tinting...