He’s a nobody. So he says.
Oh, Hanno was somebody back in Numidia, where he had the chieftain’s ear and the people’s trust. But that’s before the might of Rome came calling. The Romans defeated Numidia, sacked the city and killed Hanno’s wife. And Hanno? They branded him and sent him across the Mediterranean—gristle for the empire’s blood sports.
But Hanno doesn’t care to feed the Roman meat machine. He would rather spill blood than shed it—especially if it’s Roman blood.
Macrinus, a wealthy gladiator trainer, knows raw, raging talent when he sees it. In Hanno, he sees a gladiatorial star, someone who can stride into the Colosseum and face any challenge, be it man or monster, a hairless baboon or charging rhino.
In Hanno, Macrinus sees opportunity. Opportunity for Macrinus, that is. Sure, he’s rich, but he’d like to be richer. Yes, he holds a measure of power, but he longs for more. If Hanno is a pulsing, breathing weapon of war, Macrinus holds that weapon—and he will use it to get what he wants.
But Macrinus considers himself a fair man. If Hanno wants something in return, Macrinus will be happy to give it.
“Whose head could I give you to satisfy your fury?”
Just the head of every Roman on the planet, Hanno says. But he would settle for that of Marcus Acacius—the general who sacked and destroyed his city. The general who ordered the death of his wife.
Done, Macrinus declares. But it won’t be so easy. Marcus Acacius is a beloved Roman hero. Rome’s two emperors, Geta and Caracalla, just can’t get enough of the guy.
But Macrinus is confident that he can make it happen. Just a well-placed bet here, a whispered word there. And, of course, plenty of victories in the Colosseum, and voila! Rome will be at his feet. And Hanno can have his head.
But while Macrinus knows how to play Rome’s games, he’s not aware just how powerful his own pawn might be. Hanno may be a nobody. But secretly, he might be somebody.
And that somebody might wind up playing his own game.
“Strength and honor,” the gladiators are fond of saying. But while most of them obviously have plenty of strength, the honor piece can be a bit more ethereal in the murky moral world of the Colosseum.
Hanno does not start off as a particularly honorable guy. He is, as Macrinus notes often, a creature driven by fury. And that near-animalistic rage is underscored during Hanno’s first real gladiatorial contest, in which he faces a hairless baboon. To best the beast, he gets on all fours and fights as baboons do, biting and gnawing his way to victory.
That’s not positive, of course, but it does underline Hanno’s own character arc, moving from arena dust to lofty ideals. He comes to believe that Rome could be far better than it is, a place where people are treated with equanimity and the state cares for its citizens, no matter their socioeconomic status. He even embraces the idea of returning Rome to being a republic—removing all-powerful emperors from the game. Historically accurate? Not on your life. But still, the sentiments are nice.
And it should be said that the gladiators—most of them, anyway—do embrace a sense of honor. And they support each other in times of need and stress. One former gladiator, a guy named Ravi, set aside his sword and now spends his days patching up gladiators, leaving them fit to fight another day.
Hanno initially sees Gen. Marcus Acacius as the worst guy in the whole despicable Empire. But we learn early on that he’s not really that bad a guy. He’s tired of the emperors’ continual thirst for new land and booty, especially because it costs so many Roman lives. He and his wife, Lucilla (daughter of the former emperor Marcus Aurelius and one-time lover of Maximus, protagonist of the original Gladiator), are knee-deep in a plot to overthrow Geta and Caracalla and restore some semblance of justice to the empire.
Director Ridley Scott is a self-proclaimed atheist who, nevertheless, seems rather fascinated by religion. We see that lightly in play in Gladiator II.
Hanno, like so many other of Scott’s protagonists, looks at religion with a skeptical eye. He refuses to offer anything to Numidia’s gods before battling the Romans. And when the battle is about to begin, he tells his troops to “pray that your god is with you. If he is not, he is no god.” And throughout the film, while other characters talk about “the gods,” Hanno refers to “your gods.”
But he does seem to have some sort of spiritual outlook. When his wife is killed (and he nearly perishes as well) during the movie’s opening battle, Hanno has a vision while underwater: He sees his wife getting on a raft with two shadowy ferrymen, preparing to cross a gloomy river. (I’m no expert in Numidian mythology, but the scene certainly echoes Greek and Roman mythology, wherein the dead are ferried across the river Styx.) It’s not his last such vision. He mentions that he dreams of this river and his wife often. And sometimes he seems to hear the voices of the dead, too.
When he mentions this dream to Ravi, the gladiatorial doctor tells him that where he comes from, crossing a river can often mean salvation or redemption. That suggests a Jewish or Christian background of some sort, though the man doesn’t talk about his own beliefs at all.
We hear several references to “the gods.” It’s said that the gods determine who’ll win and who’ll die in the arena, and Emperor Geta seems to pray and channel (or pretend to channel) divine guidance about whether someone in the arena will live or die. Macrinus notes that crucifixion is a mode of execution only used for thieves and Christians. We see people, including Hanno’s wife, make offerings to the gods. Characters seem to pray to their dead forebears—asking, for example, for strength or guidance from their fathers.
Rome—at least by the time of these decadent rulers—was a hotbed of hedonism, and the Romans themselves could embrace a certain sexual fluidity.
We see that most especially in a party thrown by the senator Thraex. His older friends cavort with a bevy of younger men and women, presumably willing or paid consorts. The emperors themselves loiter with these pretty bits of human window dressing. Geta is in the company of a young woman (who flashes a bit of her breast to the camera), while Caracalla is surrounded by young, heavily made-up men. The latter emperor speaks and dresses rather effeminately, and there’s a suggestion that he contracted syphilis some time ago. (Geta says that the “disease in [Caracalla’s] loins” moved to his brain.)
Thraex and Macrinus seem to be good friends—and there’s a suggestion that perhaps they were more. Macrinus kisses the man’s hands and cheeks repeatedly. Both would perhaps identify as bisexual (in modern-day parlance); We see Thraex in the company of both a young woman and man one evening (both reveal a bit of skin as they hold their toga-like garments together around them). And when Thraex lets loose a bit of historical gossip that a woman’s husband was more attracted to men than to her, Macrinus admits that the same could be said of him at times.
Hanno kisses and flirts with his wife. Several Classical statues show various body parts, both male and female. We hear a rumor of incest. Macrinus mentions a prostitute’s breast (using more crude terminology). An apparent eunuch entertains at a party.
Though the trailer and IMDb both spoil this little fact, Hanno is the illegitimate child of Lucilla and Maximus.
“Violence is the universal language,” Macrinus says. And if that’s true, boy, Gladiator II speaks to everyone.
The action begins, as was the case in the first Gladiator movie, outside the arena. Rome attacks a city in Numidia by sea, and soon the screen is awash in arrows and flaming catapulted missiles. People fall after being pierced by projectiles. Ships are wracked with fire, with explosions sometimes ripping through the rowing quarters underneath deck. Casualties mount into the hundreds, with dead bodies floating in the sea. And after the battle, corpses are set alight as the vanquished Numidians wail and scream.
But perhaps the most notable, goriest carnage takes place as part of various “games.” Hanno and many of his fellow Numidians are branded (painfully) and sent, essentially, to try out for gladiator school. They’re thrown in an arena with angry baboons—animals further enraged when henchmen around the arena fire darts into their rears. A baboon tears the throat out of one of Hanno’s close friends; Hanno faces off against another and bites into the creature’s leg, sending the beast into a panicked rage. They fight furiously (the baboon often brandishing his blood-caked teeth) until Hanno strangles it with a chain.
In other arena-based fights, someone is beheaded with a blow from two simultaneously swung swords. A fighter is gored by a charging rhino and thrown against a pillar, leaving a bloody smear. In a naval battle in the Colosseum (!), sharks devour some of the combatants, and we see the creatures take bloody bites. People fall to the sword, mace and arrow. In the latter category, victims can be killed by one well-placed missile to the chest, while others suffer seemingly dozens of arrow wounds before falling. Someone gets stabbed through the neck with a wooden sword.
Elsewhere, people are killed via blade blows and slices to the neck: Blood erupts from the body as if it was shot from a firehose. A disembodied head is paraded in the Senate’s chambers and positioned on a platform. A man’s forearm is cut off and goes flying. Someone nearly drowns. One person is stabbed in the chest, and the blood lunges out the other side. Another man is skewered in the ear and through the skull.
Soldiers fire arrows into civilian crowds. Civilians pull soldiers from horses and railings. Men and horses fall in personal battles. Hanno engages in plenty of really painful-looking fights, including once with a man wearing spiked-and-studded gloves. (His face, surprisingly, just suffers a bruise or two.)
After the battle in Numidia, Hanno binds up an injured arm of one of his friends: We can see the gruesome wound is the result of a compound fracture, the bone poking out of the injury. Later, Ravi stitches up one of Hanno’s wounds using a ridiculously thick fishhook-like instrument. (It’s about the only time we see Hanno in obvious pain.) We see artistic renderings as cinematic flashbacks to the original Gladiator, sometimes featuring bloodshed and death.
We hear one use each of “b–ch” and “g-d–n.” “D–n” and “h—” are also used once apiece as profanities, but both of those words are also used in spiritual contexts as well.
When Ravi is stitching up Hanno for the first time, he encourages the gladiator to inhale a gaseous combination of morphine and “devil’s breath” to deaden the pain. (Hanno quickly does after Ravi begins his work.)
Several characters drink wine, and one hedonistic party seems to be particularly well besotted. The Colosseum’s Master of Ceremonies drinks freely while working.
Slavery is an important part of the Roman world. Hanno is, of course, himself a slave—owned by Macrinus—though he seems to eschew the possibility of freedom that Macrinus dangles in front of him.
Lies and treachery lurk everywhere. Betrayal and deceit are as much the currency of Rome as the denarius. We see instances of treason and betrayal.
Gambling is a popular pastime amongst Roman elite, and Macrinus and Thraex make some hefty wagers.
“Are you not entertained?!”
So bellowed Maximus in the original Gladiator—Ridley Scott’s Oscar-winning campaign through ancient Rome. Maximus was calling out the Colosseum’s blood-hungry fans, so eager for spectacle, so happy to see intestines spilled and limbs fly.
Even then, surely Scott himself was aware of the paradox. Even as Maximus tried to shame Romans into turning away from all that blood, Scott encouraged moviegoers to see it. Yes, the movie was beautifully and at times brilliantly filmed. Gladiator was a grade-A action flick. But make no mistake, its appeal was, and is, not all that far removed from those spectacles in the Colosseum. No one died in Gladiator’s making that I’m aware. But all that fake blood drew real fans—and many watched again and again.
And now, with Gladiator II, we return to the Colosseum, where Scott—like the emperors of old—promises more spectacle. More action. And, of course, more blood. Even as Hanno and Marcus grieve and sigh over the death and bloodshed they unleash, those who will flock to see this movie come to see that blood spew and spatter, to see those bodies fall. Sometimes, that’s the main reason they go. Without that gruesome spectacle, Gladiator II would be just a historically inaccurate swords-and-sandals drama. And who’s going to pay 15 bucks for that?
Those who don’t come for the blood might stick around for Denzel Washington, who plays the ever-so-oily Macrinus here. While the rest of the characters look at Rome as an empire-gone wrong or a promise-that-never-was, Macrinus stares at it with clear-eyed cynicism. He points to the Colosseum, saying that it is, in fact, the finest temple Rome ever built. Why? Because the mammoth civic structure represents what Rome truly worships: power. Let’s not kid ourselves, Macrinus seems to say during the movie’s twists and turns. Let’s see Rome—let’s see us—for what and who we really are.
Gladiator II has its merits. Washington is riveting, and the other performances are strong. The action can be, indeed, spectacular. And for a history wonk like me, to watch Rome come alive like this, even on what amounts to some sort of weird alternate timeline, is a bit breathtaking.
But I have a feeling that Macrinus, if he had a chance to watch the film, would see through its lavish sets and CGI spectacle and its hopes for Oscars. He’d see that the real appeal of Gladiator II isn’t in its art, but something more basic. More brutal. More bloody.
Are we not entertained?
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
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