Watched on Blu-Ray (Extended Cut)

If you really want to have a high standard of historical accuracy and an accurate insight into the Roman Empire around 180 AD, then Ridley Scott's "Gladiator" is an extremely poor choice. Historians will understandably be beating their hands over their heads every minute, because if there's one thing "Gladiator" can really show off, it's its historical inconsistencies, which not only occur within the narrative, but also in the costumes, set design and language. The three-person writing team of David Franzoni, John Logan and William Nicholson deliberately minimize factual accuracy for the sake of dramaturgy, because "Gladiator" does not see itself as an instructive history lesson, but is always aware of its Shakespearean fiction, with the exception of a few touches. Of course, the philosophical emperor Marcus Aurelius really did exist, just as his son Commodus did his mischief in antiquity, but here their biographies are stringently dedicated to the cinematic effect. Just as the background aspect of the time, the removal of the emperorship of the time and the introduction, the restoration of the republic, can only be read as a relatively shallow political parable on the American situation.

So "Gladiator" is a movie full of mistakes, which ultimately don't have to affect you and don't reduce the viewing pleasure in their immense effectiveness. It is a well-known fact that the view into the future adapted by Ridley Scott has always been of higher quality from a cinematic point of view than the view back into the past. "Gladiator" certainly can't draw on the visionary power of an "Alien" or "Blade Runner", its conception seems far too calculated and free of any added value food for thought: "Gladiator" doesn't feed the audience's intellect, it doesn't challenge it in any way - why should it? Instead, Ridley Scott proves that he can not only pay tribute to the monumental films that celebrated a boom in the 1960s in the new millennium, but can also create truly emotional entertainment for the heart and the senses. And to this end, everything that can be mustered is mustered: Hans Zimmer's mercilessly pathetic composition is one of his last great pieces and when "Now We Are Free" is softly intoned in the finale, even the strongest man will have to stifle a tear. This is probably what makes "Gladiator" so valuable: he indulges in the motif of the hero of integrity, but plasters his emotional development with such ecstatic (and of course manipulative) fervor that he consequently illustrates this male-dominated world in an incredibly fragile way.

Russell Crowe as the character Maximus is not only appealing because of his physique, his facial expressions in the best moments are characterized by a deep longing that portrays his pure thirst for revenge as human as the urge for vengeance is. However, Maximus can only truly unfold through his adversary Commodus, who is phenomenally embodied by Joaquin Phoenix. It is Phoenix who gives Crowe the necessary light to shine, which is not to say that Crowe is not great in the role. But Phoenix's inimitable presence alone elevates his character and his skills to this pedestal, which ultimately earned him all the awards on the mantelpiece. But if we move away from the qualitative comparisons, because Phoenix has always been in a league of his own, and devote ourselves to the psychology of the characters, Commodus, who wants to establish his own dynasty with his sister, is also the much more interesting character - because he acts as a multiple metronome of the plot. Commodus is not simply the power-obsessed descendant who demands what is rightfully his. He is more like the son who has felt unloved all his life and is now trying to compensate for his pain with a position of power: If you look into the eyes of this Commodus, you don't see a cunning monster, but a small, sad, lonely boy who threatens to fall apart if you touch him just a little too hard.

And the juxtaposition of these two characters, who loved the same father but were completely at odds in their existence as brothers in spirit, is the central theme of "Gladiator". As befits Ridley Scott, his epic is a visual feast for the eyes and the entrance to the Colosseum alone is enough to make your jaw drop: the view is spectacular and the interior is incredibly atmospheric. When the gladiator fights begin and the cheering crowds in the stands go crazy at the perverse games, then "Gladiator" writes film history - purely in terms of craftsmanship - because such photographs could not be made more memorable. This almost distracts somewhat from the tragedy of Maximus, who kills because he has to, because it is the only way he can find his way back to the bosom of his family; who treads the bloody but cathartic path from general to slave to darling of the audience with upright dignity, which nevertheless remains authentic or tangible in its exaggeration. It's true if you initially see "Gladiator" as a one-dimensional rape-n-revenge film of modern times, it would probably have worked just as well as a western. Ultimately, however, Ridley Scott has undoubtedly directed one of the most expressive blockbusters since the turn of the century, you just have to get involved.