Caligula
Caligula is quite simply one of the most bizarrely bad films of all time. Directed by controversial Italian director Tinto Brass and by Penthouse founder Bob Guccione, the film has the “distinction” of being the only major motion picture to feature scenes of graphic explicit sex. With respected actors on the bill and hardcore sex and graphic violent flowing like wine, Caligula is one hell of a strange movie. The film was written by Gore Vidal, who had written a screenplay from an unpublished miniseries based around the life of the Roman Emperor Gaius Caesar Germanicus (aka Caligula). Vidal, a frequent contributor to Penthouse magazine, contacted Guccione for help with financing after being unable to secure any.
Naturally, Guccione had two conditions for Vidal. The first was that the film would no longer be a modest production, but would rather be an alarmingly huge spectacle akin to Hollywood’s sword-and-sandals epics from the 1950s and 1960s. The second condition was that a whole lot of sex would be added to the film to help draw attention to Guccione’s magazine. Vidal agreed and Caligula headed to production on a road paved with the best intentions.
To get the ball rolling, Guccione somehow dispatched Federico Fellini’s art director, Danilo Donato, to build the massive complex sets for the film. A slew of acting talent was brought in to bring credibility to the production. Peter O’Toole, Helen Mirren, and Malcolm McDowell were all cast in the epic. Guccione looked at established directors like John Huston and a few others before settling on Brass, who was right up the Penthouse founder’s alley. As the film started production, a pile of difficulties arose as massive egos clashed and issues between writers and directors started to leak out into the media. Rumours ran rampant, including one that Gore Vidal was thrown off the set by Brass and that many of the performers were uncomfortable with the nudity in the scenes. Many extras and one lead actress (Maria Schneider) resigned early on.
The inexperienced director clashed with the inexperienced Guccione several times, too, with an aggressive shooting schedule developed that nobody was able to meet. Poor Donati, the art director, had to scrap a lot of his concepts and was told to produce bizarre backdrops and various paintings to help suit whatever mood Guccione and Co. were going for. The changes in backgrounds and art direction had an effect on the script, which was revised several times by a frustrated Vidal. Vidal clashed with Brass continually, as the director hated the script and eventually rewrote some of it with star McDowell. The whole thing was chaotic and Vidal began to distance himself from the project, fearing the worst was happening to his script. Brass, in return, was shooting up a storm and the film took about four years to make.
Describing the plot of this catastrophe is essentially pointless, but there may be some points of mild coherency to latch on to. McDowell stars as the title character and the film essentially outlines his rise to power. O’Toole is Tiberius and Mirren is Caesonia. Other performers fill minor and major roles, most of which are comprised of various combinations of nudity, bizarre sexual acts, ridiculously over-the-top acting, or other oddities. Somehow the story of a depraved Roman Emperor exists in the fog of penetrative sex, torture, and casual killing. Naturally the depiction of Rome may have been oddly accurate, but there is no articulate narrative here to speak of.
Caligula is a big ugly beast of a film. Clocking in at 156 minutes, depending on the cut of the film available, it is a monstrous concoction of awful visuals, terrible directing, bad acting, and horrid dialogue. To think, there is a version of this film (the “uncut version”) that somehow sits at a whopping 210 minutes.
There is nothing wrong with erotica in movies. With Russ Meyer films and several other attempts at sensuous movie making, there are more than enough opportunities to experience titillation with cinema. While those films thrill and entice with their good nature, decent direction, and cheese-ball fondness for vibrancy, this horrid mass of Caligula does not. Instead, this Guccione-sponsored mess is a film that has long lost touch with reality and with what audiences want to see. It is a violent mess, featuring gobs of decapitation, evisceration, rape, bestiality, sadomasochism, and necrophilia. It is not sensual, enticing, or even remotely close to compelling.
Instead, it looks like the skeleton of something that may have had good intentions. As Gore Vidal distanced himself from it, so did director Tinto Brass. Guccione, apparently, had reshot and edited a bunch of garbage that destructed the already tentatively awkward film. With these re-cuts and a myriad of disgusting scenes, Caligula was disowned and disavowed by most of the performers and filmmakers with any credibility. There were various scenes that McDowell wanted no part in and he even talked an actress (Katharine Ross) out of taking a role in the film.
The story behind the mess that is Caligula is probably worth a film in and of itself. It is poorly shot and looks terrible, almost looking like it was shot through a tub of butter. It is a piece of trash, a vile concoction built from the misuse of gifted talent and fools. Caligula only has worth amongst those individuals who have the desire to see one of the worst films ever made and want to see what all of the fuss is about. I counted myself as one of those individuals, purely because of my interest in the art of film and my often idiotic desire to see almost everything ever produced, but I now regret my decision to ever view this movie. It is absolutely terrible in every way.
