Sebastián

The film is a gem in the global history of LGBT cinema, partly for the reason it doesn't promote self-shaming. While the life of St. Sebastiane is portrayed in a partly fictitious manner, certain traditions and beliefs ingrained in the culture of the Roman Empire are honestly depicted. Same-sex love was still prevalent during the Early Christian Era of Rome. It was not perceived to be an act against religious faith for at the time even aristocratic men who were married were still respected if having been discovered to partake in sexual intercourse with male servants. Women played a submissive, domestic role. They were thus regarded as merely a means to produce male children. There was no religious scripture condemning homosexuality or same-sex love at the time. Society had not evolved to the point in which it would began to shame itself for possessing natural tendencies until polytheism became extinct in the Early Medieval Era.

The military culture in the film is rustic, aggressive, bold and hyper masculine. All scenes contain soldiers wearing a loincloth or nothing at all. The climate of the region is very hot. No character is modest in displaying combat skills, love and affection for another. The troop's constant disdain for any tradition/belief contrary to their own is a recurring theme.

Sebastiane becomes the target of the troop's aggressive nature, willingly embracing his persecution. It comes across as a Christian being devoured by a lion in the Roman Colosseum. The troop stationed in a desolate spot on the coast of the Italian peninsula ridicules, tortures and eventually executes Sebastiane for refusing to relinquish his chastity and adherence to the new faith. It may be perceived that he was mistreated for rejecting his station in life, though at the time anyone who joined the military did not think twice about giving up arms for a peaceful life. Sebastiane would have participated in warfare if the Emperor commanded it.

In 3rd Century Imperial Rome, Christianity and Polytheism were in conflict, resulting in reigns marked by global adherence for polytheism or peace between different religious communities. During Sebastiane's life, Christianity was still a minority religion. It was treated as a threat to the security of the Empire. Anyone who openly practiced the faith was executed. Churches built were destroyed for the construction of temples. The Emperor was unwilling to show leniency towards anyone who contested his divine authority.

There is only one soldier who regards Sebastiane as a friend: Justin. Even though they don't become lovers, they are bound to one another through mutual trust and compassion. Justin is willing to listen to Sebastiane's viewpoints and knowledge of Jesus Christ. When watching his friend dance he is enraptured by graceful movement. He acts as a barrier between Sebastiane and the troop. Without Justin's diligent protection, Sebastiane would have been executed early on in his punishment.

It is somewhat of an irony that despite Commander Severus' multiple attempts to subdue his defiant soldier, he appears indifferent to Sebastiane's devotion to Jesus Christ. He threatens to kill him if he does not reciprocate his advances. He is after all, a mere man stranded in an area far from civilization. Alcoholism ruins his self- restraint, though Sebastiane does not succumb to anger or hatred. He takes this injustice in stride for his faith teaches him to show compassion towards the flaws of a person.

The film equates nudity with misery. When someone is miserable, a person can easily see it. His life is consuming him mercilessly so no effort to hide it is made. The men are nude for their violence, internal conflict, masculinity and love for one another are the interlocking factors of the story. Nudity emphasizes the relationship between these things. It gives the audience a message that human nature in Imperial Rome is truly understood if one takes away the subtlety and ambiguity redundantly utilized in the artistic portrayal of this historical period.

It would be amiss to not mention that that nudity in a Mediterranean climate was considered reasonable during the summer season amongst cloistered men. Being fully clothed was just foolishness. If no woman is in sight, a man would not feel uncomfortable in taking his clothes off. He is surrounded by friends whom he trusts and shares a bond with.

I commend the late Director Derek Jarman for instructing his entire cast to speak in Latin. There are only a handful of films in Post- modernist Cinema that are entirely produced in classical language. Latin much like Sanskrit, is viewed as a dead language, thus Derek Jarman's effort to present Imperial Roman culture as accurate as possible is dignified.

Not being overly familiar with Bible stories or Christian history (and the fact that the opening rolling titles are impossible to read), the factuality of this film will escape me. But Jarman is a visual artist, and his film has more in common with the many paintings of Sebastian than it does with factual storytelling. Jarman's ornate decor can sometimes feel dull and bland -- his films can seem lifeless, bogged down by the set decoration. This calls to mind "Velvet Goldmine," a complex film I didn't care for, even though I love Todd Haynes; I want to like Jarman -- I love his books -- and this is the first film of his that I've been actively enthusiastic about. It has much more to do with sex than history; and it's apolitical and political at the same time.

Consider the film's approach to homosexuality. No one is defined as being a homosexual, so that at first seems like a de-politicization of sex -- all there are are acts, and acts are not political. But at the same time, it's acts that are disdained and made illegal, and without the "political" approach to defining (and thereby defending) people as homosexuals, it leaves the acts open to censorship and condemnation -- politicization. As a film itself, though, it is not pedantic or accusatory -- in fact, Sebastian is killed, it seems, because of the lust of Severus, who he refuses. Like the Christian God who Sebastian loves and sees as more beautiful than Adonis, Severus wants Sebastian. But it isn't just condemning lust, either -- Anthony and Adrian are openly lovers, and the abundance of male nudity, and the eroticism of it by Jarman, could hardly be called prudish. In fact, there is a scene at night of the men grabbing each other, their dark-lit bodies, and the soldier pressing his near-naked, muscled body on his lover, that still seems shocking in its passion today.

It's more like a lyrical tone poem, and Brian Eno's New Age-y score goes well with that. Jarman isn't a bully, and when the crucifying comes around he doesn't bludgeon us -- first we see a close-up of his face, as arrows pierce through Sebastian's skin, silently with the exception of the wind, and Jarman gives us one final distorted image to meditate on the death of the one we can't have. 9/10

Derek Jarman was, like his contemporary Peter Greenaway still is, a visual artist working in film. The usual obsessions of the movie industry didn't occupy him overmuch. Psychology, character development, narrative, plot - all those were secondary considerations, if they were considered at all. The main preoccupation was the expressive power of the the image. To those of us reared on conventional, industrial cinema, this makes Jarman's (and Greenaway's) work both refreshing and frustrating in equal measure.

SEBASTIANE is not, then, a conventional film. It would be misleading to assess it in conventional terms. At times it is jokey, revelling in its low budget and independent spirit. At other times, it is so beautiful it takes your breath away. And at other times it seems to crawl along, with dull acting beneath a luxuriously blue Sardinian sky.

Leonardo Treviglio is a stunning, intense Sebastian, a Renaissance painting come to life. As his tormentor Severus, Barney James successfully conveys frustration and bewilderment behind his icy-grey eyes. Richard Warwick (probably the best known actor, having made a mark as one of the young rebels in Lindsay Anderson's IF...) is quietly impressive as Sebastian's only friend in the outpost. A lot is required of Neil Hamilton as the gruff Maximus, which is a pity because he is unconvincing enough to be a distraction.

Personally, I think SEBASTIANE succeeds as a cinematic study of the isolation at the centre of martyrdom. It doesn't indulge in psychological speculation. It simply depicts some of the temptations, struggles, and sufferings involved. The sensuality of the lives of the other soldiers is at odds with the kind of life Sebastian wants to live. Jarman and his co-director (and editor) Paul Humfress show all this with great clarity.

However, one of the side-effects of such clarity is emotional detachment. We watch as if the film were an installation in an art gallery. Nothing wrong with that, as long as you remember that's what you're looking at. Otherwise you might emerge from SEBASTIANE thinking that it's a failure, a halfway-house between an art-film and a porn-movie. For me, though, it's pretty successful on its own terms. And because it was a pioneering piece of film-making in other ways (Latin dialogue, gay lovemaking, self-conscious anachronisms), SEBASTIANE will always have a place in cinema history.

While not his strongest film, Sebastiane is classic Derek Jarman. The movie captures the potential for violence and lust in a small group of exiled young soldiers. As with all Jarman, the visuals here are more important than any dialog, and they wash over the viewer in waves of longing and fear-inducing power. The film meditates on intersections of longing, desire, faith and obsession, especially as they play out between Severus and Sebastiane.

Sebastiane's "obsessive" Christian faith rivals the lustful obsession of Serverus for this unattainable man. The movie doesn't flinch from showing how brutal desire can be; it is a hard master for both Serverus and Sabastiane. What I came away from the film with is the powerful question: What horrors and debasements will we all put ourselves through for the object of our lust?

It's surprising more comments haven't been posted for this production which, at the time of its original release, created quite a stir. Perhaps the film's failure to create a continuing subgenre of imitators is to blame, but then, that makes it a one-of-a-kind effort and efforts of this sort deserve remembering as well.

Looking back on the film from more than a quarter of a century, it seems clear that normal criteria concerning story, dialog, and character simply don't apply here. Instead, one must simply view it as a feverish, almost hallucinogenic fantasy drenched with homoerotic, sadomasochistic imagery that is played out against a sun-drenched dreamscape on the Sardinian coast. Think of it as a high-class photo shoot for an avant-garde fashion magazine specializing in loincloths and Roman military paraphernalia.

Having the dialog spoken in Latin can be dismissed as a "gimmick" but actually it adds to the film's air of mystery and unreality. If only some of the anachronisms could have been avoided!

Considering the possibilities, there's surprisingly little sex here, though it's a subject often discussed and, indeed, the whole film is imbued with an air of desire and yearning. On the other hand, there's a plethora of bondage and torture. Leonardo Treviglio, who plays the title character and who spends most of the movie in no more than a loincloth, is hanged by his wrists and flogged, burned with a flame, staked out spreadeagle-style under the scorching sun, and finally shot full of arrows. Curiously, his most memorable torment is also the simplest. Barney James, playing the commanding officer who's torn by conflicting emotions, takes a handful of sand and grinds it into Treviglio's bare torso, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain, between lust and longing. It's a memorable moment in a movie that is now half-forgotten ... like one of those dreams which fade from the mind after you awaken, even though you try to recall the details.