Gladiator

Ridley Scott once said he considered it remarkable that people would "give you ten million dollars to go and get your rocks off".

Judging by such lacklustre Nineties' films as White Squall and the Demi Moore dud GI Jane, it is remarkable anyone should give this veteran British director ten dollars, let alone ten million. Throwing him to the lions might have been more apposite.

Instead, Hollywood has hurled $100 million his way, and it turns out to be money well spent as Scott re-discovers the visual flair that made Alien and Blade Runner so memorable, and the character friction he last captured in Thelma And Louise in 1991.

Sixty this year, the re-invigorated Scott is at the helm of an old-fashioned yet state-of-the-art epic movie, in which Charlton Heston's Ben Hur is given a Titanic makeover, and sandals are made sexy once more.

The opening could not be more impressive, as the all-conquering Roman Empire seeks to deliver the knock-out blow to a wild, screaming bunch of woodland Germans. Fiery Roman arrows flash across the sky; two tired armies engage in bone-crunching, manic close combat, and Scott crafts images of war as powerful and brutal as Saving Private Ryan.

Victory goes to the cavalry-rallying, tough-in-togas Roman general Maximus (Russell Crowe) and his soon forgotten dog. Dying Emperor Marcus Aurelius (a dignified Richard Harris) duly deems Maximus should take power in Rome. However, Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), the emperor's weakling son, strikes back by ordering his assassination and assuming malevolent control himself.

Maximus escapes, but arrives home too late to save his family from being raped, crucified and burnt, whereupon he is kidnapped and sold to slave trader Oliver Reed for service as a gladiator.

Commodus, a cross between the twisted, mad Caligula and the fiddling, decadent Nero, has a thing for his own sister (Connie Nielsen) and a thing against Maximus, and when the former general's gladiatorial prowess brings him to the Colosseum, a renewed clash is inevitable.

Scott's Colosseum Games are gory, arguably gratuitously so, but death-and-glorious too, and if last year's Phantom Menace chariot race proved the special-effects high point of the George Lucas comeback, then Scott matches him here with tigers and tooled-up chariots.

The Colosseum, computer generated and restored to its former glory, looks magnificent, and so does Crowe's taciturn, honourable Maximus, with his hard stare and indefatigable spirit in pursuit of vengeance. His action hero puts you in mind of Mel Gibson's Mad Max, although there is none of the black humour of that apocalyptic Australian.

Indeed, Gladiator is a little more serious than it needs to be, as if Kirk Douglas's Spartacus is more of a role model than Ben Hur, but the script lacks sufficient intelligence to make hard-hitting political parallels with today.

Phoenix's Commodus over-acts without turning Carry On camp and it is left to Oliver Reed to add levity to the breathtaking butchery. This was to be Ollie's last glorious hurrah; indeed computer technology miraculously completed his role after he died mid-filming. Reed, the riot act, God bless you and goodnight.

Charles Hutchinson

12/05/00