Caligula

For a period there, in the late 70s, we came very close to having real life in films. More real than ever. Oh, we had blood and tears, and an occasional breast, but the state of affairs was little different than that Disney TeeVee world where no bathrooms had toilets and sex was something oddly remote from the eye, always around the corner.

Partly, its that odd, odd American prudishness, that tut tut notion that invisible things are managed things. But partly there's the simple fact that no good case could be made for "watching." So a simple balance is maintained. Since sex sells, we'll have wet lips and vamping and wild joining of invisible parts. But we won't have life the way it really is, with all sorts of skin, intimacies and gentle touches. And smells.

Into this space you'll find various intrusions. I really thought "9 Songs" was immensely clever, justifiably cinematic. I also find from time to time clever ideas in ordinary porn. "Private Teacher" by an Orson Welles associate had some neat ideas sneaked in, as did "La Foire aux sexes" which was every bit a good new wave film.

And then you'll have something like this, which perhaps by itself set back the whole notion of intimacy in film three decades.

Its big, its loud, its stupid. Fortunately, this was before that insane silicone and shaved craze hit the girlie watcher's world. But its of the same ilk in a way.

Just think: Peter O'Toole, Hellen Mirren, John Geilgud for chrissakes! Not bad set design, in that Italian monstrosity tradition of Zefferelli. A script by Gore Vidal — who knows nothing about how to flesh out a film (ouch, sorry), but whose larger arcs are solid. And Tinto Brass is not a bad filmmaker in the small, meaning he knows how to make a good image if not craft things as a project.

It could have worked, because by the late seventies, audiences had plenty of examples of performances that referenced and encapsulated other performances, so we could have what this could have been: a (film) performance of a (porn) performance of a (historical, voyeuristic-in-its-time) performance. And the projection of genital reality across those layers could have been intelligent as well as whatever else you may want.

For decades after Kinsey botched things with flawed science, Playboy was the vanguard of the sexual revolution. I'm not making this up; there really was a "Playboy philosophy" which boiled down to: "sex is natural and pleasant and if it doesn't hurt anyone, why not?" With hippies as a sort of mascot, this seemed intelligent, especially since the girlie pictures were surrounded with some of the best writing in print. Those centerfolds mattered.

Then along came a sort of second generation magazine which exploited the fact that Palyboy's girls had no body hair or genitals and were too linked to a set of obsolete fantasies. Penthouse girls had hair and fluids and were aggressive. Fewer coy blonds; more adventure. It was an equally vapid set of fantasies which as these things go went obsolete as quickly. But in the period of 76-80, that magazine was in the forefront of vaginal honesty in life. A forefront, such as society would allow.

And there was the Playboy tradition of wrapping things in intellectual goo. Which meant that this film could have been something that mattered, that changed things. It could have cast itself in the same useless space as the Romans it portrayed. But it made a strange bargain: the story has these acts as perverted, distorted life. Where ordinary films went way out of their way to not show certain things in sex, this went as far the other way to show them. Its a strange world where sexual positions and acts are arranged precisely so that you CAN see.

So I think like all great turning points in film, this film is important. Its not good, its ghastly. But its important because its mistakes hurt us in places that matter and missed an opportunity to make film better, richer.

Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life.

Let's not kid ourselves here, all ye art students, film-school nerds, and other self-loathing "cinema l'arte" snobs: had this exact same movie been released under the banner "directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini" you would have loved it - sorry: CLAIMED to have loved it - and praised it to high heaven, espousing its virtues in long essays, justifying its extreme sex and violence through some b.s. semantic pseudo-intellectual movie-critic-jargon mumbo-jumbo.

Go on, admit it. No-one will laugh. We promise.

This movie has been unanimously dismissed as exploitative trash and of no cinematic value by "notable" movie critics.

After having seen the full two-and-a-half hour version: a) I can certainly see why THEY would choose to view it that way b) I totally disagree The fact that "Caligula" was financed by Penthouse (gasp!) and directed by Tinto Brass (oh no!) is what this is all about.

An excellent cast includes McDowell (an ideal choice for Caligula - or any devious lunatic, for that matter) and Mirren (at the height of her enormous sex-appeal). There is terrific music from Khachaturian, an interesting story, some suspense, etc. A strong stomach is needed to watch this gore-fest, though.

A corny, historically inaccurate, fairy-tale-like piece of crap like "Gandhi" gets world-wide recognition, while a brutally realistic film about another historical figure gets the finger. Go figure.

This movie gets way too much hate. It is not even close to being one of the worst movies I've seen.

Malcolm Mcdowell is fantastic as always. It is worth seeing just for his performance alone.

I was also really impressed by the costumes, I thought they were gorgeous. My favorite was the one Caligula wears near the end which is a gorgeous metallic green. You can tell the effort put behind not only the wardrobe but the hairstyles and the sets, they are some of the best aspects of the film. The costume designer Danilo Donati actually won some Oscars because of his work in other films.

Now, everybody who dislikes the film do so because of the very explicit porn. I agree most of the time is excessive and goes on for way too long, I think because of the nature of the story and character a certain amount of explicitness works, but for the most part I find it too be too much and too long.

If you take away the porn, this movie would be far better received. There's an actual story and it has great performances for the most part.

It is not perfect however, I do feel the movie stayed one note from beginning to end, doesnt feel like a 3 act story but it was worth it in the end. I am really looking forward to watching the new version that premiered at Cannes this year, hoping it becomes available to the general public very soon.

Excuse the title of this review however the bottom line is, it has to be seen to be believed. The purely supreme cast is more than likely the only thing keeping the film from being well and truly buried in a basement. Historical revelations indicate that the content of this film probably does in fact (to a degree) reflect the lunacy rampant at the time and yes that means....meaningless executions, wild paranoia, incest and of course the gratuitous sex which could probably leave some soft porn movies looking very average (provided you get the right version). No its not a true classic but it dabbles with taboo, and dares go where other films draw the line. Its one i'll watch again and one you'd have to see merely to say you saw it. 6/10 scorpio

Some describe CALIGULIA as "the" most controversial film of its era. While this is debatable, it is certainly one of the most embarrassing: virtually every big name associated with the film made an effort to distance themselves from it. Author Gore Vidal actually sued (with mixed results) to have his name removed from the film, and when the stars saw the film their reactions varied from loudly voiced disgust to strategic silence. What they wanted, of course, was for it to go away.

For a while it looked like it might. CALIGULA was a major box-office and critical flop (producer Guccione had to rent theatres in order to get it screened at all), and although the film was released on VHS to the home market so many censorship issues were raised that it was re-edited, and the edited version was the only one widely available for more than a decade. But now CALIGULIA is on DVD, available in both edited "R" and original "Unrated" versions. And no doubt John Gielgud is glad he didn't live to see it happen.

The only way to describe CALIGULIA is to say it is something like DEEP THROAT meets David Lynch's DUNE by way of Fellini having an off day. Vidal's script fell into the hands of Penthouse publisher Bob Guccione, who used Vidal's reputation to bankroll the project and lure the big name stars--and then threw out most of Vidal's script and brought in soft-porn director Tinto Brass. Then, when Guccione felt Brass' work wasn't explicit enough, he and Giancarlo Lui photographed hardcore material on the sly.

Viewers watching the edited version may wonder what all the fuss is about, but those viewing the original cut will quickly realize that it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. There is a tremendous amount of nudity, and that remains in the edited version, but the original comes complete with XXX scenes: there is very explicit gay, lesbian, and straight sex, kinky sex, and a grand orgy complete with dancing Roman guards thrown in for good measure. The film is also incredibly violent and bloody, with rape, torture, and mutilation the order of the day. In one particularly disturbing scene, a man is slowly stabbed to death, a woman urinates on his corpse, and his genitals are cut off and thrown to the dogs.

In a documentary that accompanies the DVD release, Guccione states he wanted the film to reflect the reality of pagan Rome. If so, he missed the mark. We know very little about Caligula--and what little we know is questionable at best. That aside, orgies and casual sex were not a commonplace of Roman society, where adultery was an offense punishable by death. And certainly ancient Rome NEVER looked like the strange, slightly Oriental, oddly space-age sets and costumes offered by the designers.

On the plus side, those sets and costumes are often fantastically beautiful, and although the cinematography is commonplace it at least does them justice; the score is also very, very good. The most successful member of the cast is Helen Mirren, who manages to engage our interests and sympathies as the Empress Caesonia; Gielgud and O'Toole also escape in reasonably good form. The same cannot be said for McDowell, but in justice to him he doesn't have much to work with.

The movie does possess a dark fascination, but ultimately it is an oddity, more interesting for its design and flat-out weirdness than for content. Some of the bodies on display (including McDowell's and Mirren's) are extremely beautiful, and some of the sex scenes work very well as pornography... but then again, some of them are so distasteful they might drive you to abstinence, and the bloody and grotesque nature of the film undercuts its eroticism. If you're up to it, it is worth seeing once, but once is likely to be enough.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer