Brehm Center

            Among the summer blockbusters were two historical epics – Gladiator and The Patriot. If you didn’t see them, here are two movies to rent in video. The violence of war and the gore of the arena make these movies unsuitable for viewing by the young. Yet surprisingly both films are moral to the core, portraying the importance of family and country. Big and thoughtful, with elegant costumes, bold emotions, sweeping landscapes, amazing battle spectacles, wild reversals of fortune, evil killings and yet tender love, these movies have much in common.

Some critics have suggested that Gladiator and The Patriot tell the histories of Rome and of the Revolutionary War with all the subtleties of Wrestlemania (and there are similarities, particularly the arena scenes with gladiators fighting against all odds). Yet a more appropriate analogy might be the books of Judges or Kings, which describe the history of Israel’s beginnings as a morality play, using similar black and white terms. Some leaders did “what was evil in the sight of the Lord” and paid the price, both individually and collectively. Others proved faithful and good, and their people prospered. In the retelling of these stories, just as with the biblical accounts, there is no doubt in any viewer’s mind who is who.

Roman history has often been made into great movies – Ben Hur, Spartacus, Quo Vadis. Revolutionary War films have not done as well. Thankfully, few recall Johnny Tremain or 1776, though Glory has its moments. On the surface level, the Roman epic wins again. Gladiator is the better story; but Mel Gibson is, well, Mel Gibson. More important than a comparison of plot and character, however, is the similarity with which both movies use history to raise larger questions regarding life’s meaning and purpose. Even if the films overreach in the process, viewers are left with stories worth pondering.

Both movies tell the story of a reluctant hero, Russell Crowe as the Roman general Maximus and Mel Gibson as the patriot Benjamin Martin. Both men are privileged, living on idyllic country estates with their loving families. And both show real respect for a cross-section of humankind. For example, Martin has no slaves, while Maximus treats his soldiers and his fellow gladiators humanely. Both have fought fiercely and patriotically for their country, but desire now to live at peace. When these fathers see their sons killed by amoral military/political leaders, however, they must avenge their killings, both for home and for country.

Both heroes at first fight incognito – as “the Spaniard” and “the Ghost.” Yet soon their identities are known by the tyrants who oppose them, and a battle to the death is all but inevitable. For a time the heroes seemed doomed, but as the demented Emperor Commodus bemoans (and the vile Colonel Tavington echoes): “What shall I do with you? You simply won’t die.” The strength and honor of these good men and those who fight at their side bring justice, peace and the promise of democracy to the land. Even the disenfranchised, the slave and the African gladiator, gain their freedom as a result. The price is high, just as it was for Israel’s judges and kings. But the result is also entry into a more just peace.

            If this were all there were to these films – entertaining movies with a clear moral object lesson, it would be enough to recommend them to all who can stomach seeing the horrors of war and the arena. (In these movies, the “R” ratings are given for the violence, not the language, which is clean, or the sexuality, which is chaste.) They provide the secular equivalent of Moses’ plea to his people, “I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendents may live….” (Deut. 30: 19)

The larger moral landscape is clear and is worth re-presentation. But other, more subtle moral issues make for interesting discussion as well. How for example, do you decide between two moral masters – family and country? We live in an age when Viet Nam, Watergate, Monica, et. al. have tarnished the notion of patriotism. The choice might therefore seem easy, but is it?

            A particularly interesting question revolves around the necessary cost of violence? As The Patriot opens, Martin remarks softly, “I have long feared that my sins would return to visit me.” Mel Gibson, himself, wrote the line, hoping to introduce the movie’s spiritual dilemma. Martin/Gibson is referring to the bloody killings with a tomahawk that he had inflicted years earlier during the French and Indian War. They had earned him legendary status. But could it be that the war had also had a necessary moral pricetag? (The Cherokee Indians, for example, revered their war chieftains, but disqualified them from continuing to lead their nation in times of peace. They believed that war activity, though necessary and to be honored, was contrary to how humanity was meant to live.) Anyone seeing either of these movies won’t need much convincing. However noble war and killing might seem, or even however tragically necessary they might at times be, we are called to choose life.