DOI 10.

1007/s12138-009-0064-z

Gideon Nisbet, Ancient Greece in Film and Popular Culture, ser. Greece and
Rome Live (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 2006), XVI + 170 pp.

Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2008

In his introduction [vii-xiv], Nisbet proposes to explain why ancient Greece

has not often been portrayed in film and why these films have rarely been
successful. He introduces this point by quoting Thucydides 1 [i.e. 1.10] and
making the analogy that as Athens now overshadows Sparta, as Thucydides
predicted it would, so in the world of cinema does Rome overshadow Greece.
Without explanation, he dismisses the recent multi-million dollar, high-profile
Troy and Alexander as anomalies [viii]. This analogy immediately breaks
down in several ways. Political and historical factors aside, the Greek films
Troy and Alexander as well as 300, along with the television mega hit Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, reversed the Roman predominance of the
twentieth century. After Gladiator, the Roman side of the ledger now consists
of low-budget Gladiator knock-offs, the early medieval The Last Legion, and
the continually postponed Vin Diesel Hannibal. Moreover, many of the notable
allusions to antiquity in recent films have applied to Greek more than Roman
antiquity, e.g. the Homeric O Brother, Where Art Thou? and The Matrix trilogys
Delphic oracle, Teiresias, Morpheus, and Persephone figures as well as its underlying theme of Aristotelian determinism. Instead of suggesting that Hollywoods problemreflects a basic uncertainty about how to put the idea of
Greekness to work [xiv], Nisbet would have done better to ask what factors
are making it emerge finally after a century of Roman dominance.
Nisbet espouses a methodology of evaluating the impact of ancient
Greece in modern popular culture through not towering, one-of-a-kind masterpieces but sequels, knock-offs, makings-of and straight-to-video cash-ins
that so greatly outnumber themtrash and all. It helps that the trash is often
more overtly about fun anyway [xii]. He insists that X does not mark the
spot but a thousand small xs map out a cultural field pretty effectively
[xi-xii]. This suggests that we are about to delve into an abundant, hitherto
unexplored database of secondary and tertiary popular items demonstrating
the status of Greece in popular culture, but he leads us instead through only
International Journal of the Classical Tradition, Vol. 15, No. 3, September 2008, pp. 510-514.

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a small handful of films that we have all seen decades ago, not really the thousands of items from Japanese manga and other subcultures to which he refers
as a teaser. He seems to claim that the publisher constrained him even though
he fails to appreciate the time constraints under which the director of a multimillion dollar film must operate.
He begins his first chapter [1-44] by examining Bill and Teds Excellent Adventure (1989), which he unfortunately says was set in San Dinas, California
and insists was The Terminator played for laughs [3] more than an obvious
knock-off of 1985s blockbuster comedy Back to the Future. His purpose in examining this film is to make some plausible explanations for the failure of
Greecethe land, its history, its mythsas a viable subject for cinema [ix].
To do this he must prove how bad the initial Socrates segment is, so he applies
a wide swath of negative adjectives and adverbs: static [bis], lingering featureless too long dull bored stiffly stilted [3-4]. Unfortunately
Nisbet describes Socrates use of actual ancient Greek wordsone of the first
examples in a Hollywood filmas incomprehensible [4], while he criticizes
the use of subtitles as the cinematic kiss-of-death at the box office. Surely
Mel Gibsons accountant would disagree with that generalization.
Nisbet laments how all Greek films are filtered through Roman film motifs. He complains [8] that So-crates cant help looking like a senator holding forth in the curia; but So-crates is not dressed in a toga praetexta, he stands
not in the curia but outdoors, and he is spouting philosophy in the ancient
Greek language. That all seems pretty Greek to me. I should add that Nisbet
quickly glosses over the bi-syllabic pronunciation of the name So-crayts.
This magnificent display of self-confident idiocy by Keanu Reeves in his memorable breakthrough role created a legacy in the popular culturea few million xs-worth perhaps. Nisbet also seems to forget that this film is a comedy
and that the whole point of the initial static scene in ancient Athens is to
liven So-crates up in modern San Dimas. In trying to identify the Roman dominance of the film, he points out that in the medieval sequence Socrates is involved in a high-speed wagon chase. But even if this was intended to be or
inspired by a cinematic Roman chariot race, the Greeks had chariots too. What
Nisbet might have pointed out instead is how and why the Roman chariot became such a popular modern symbol of ancient culture, i.e. through nineteenth-century painting and the novel Ben-Hur. He devotes not even an entire
paragraph to explaining how Greek culture has been filtered through Rome
for some two millenniaspecifying only Corinthian columns, pedimented
gables [8].
He then embarks on a review of three films, Roger Cormans Atlas (1960),
Sergio Leones The Colossus of Rhodes (1961), and Robert Wises Helen of Troy
(1956). He chooses these three as well-informed and distinctive films that
tried to turn authentic Greece into good cinema [8-9]. Most classicists who
work in cinema now recognize that authenticity is at best a moving target and
a non-starter for analysis.1 But Nisbet glosses over Cormans use of the Stoa
of Attalus as a set, and he seems to think only Rome, not Greece, had aqueducts (despite the public works of Peisistratus and Polycrates). Worse, one of
1.

[See Jon Solomon, The Vacillations of the Trojan Myth: Popularization & Classicization, Variation & Codification, International Journal of the Classical Tradition 14
(2007), 482-534. W.H.]

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his criticisms is that popular culture has no clear visual idea of Greece [16].
I understand this to mean that Rome works better on screen because it has
well understood stereotypes and visual icons, while Greece does not work because those who make films about Greece have to be inventive. This would be
a plus if it were true, but there are Greek stereotypes (philosophers, pedagogues, tyrants, slaves) and visual icons (Mycenaean columns, vase paintings,
sculpture, Corinthian helmets). Nisbet does identify tyrants, philosophers,
and homosexuals as characteristically Greek, but he finds philosophy to be
boring: all talk, no action [17],contra the example of Pi (1998)and the
easy counterexample to his identification of cinematic Greeks who flirt with
underage boys is Oliviers Crassus in Spartacus.
Nisbets most endearing aesthetic is his low threshold of taste. It is indeed a pleasure to read analyses of B-films and sword-and-sandal imports.
But Nisbet does so with the opinion that it is an anomaly that these films
failed. He seems genuinely surprised that Roger Corman could make a bad
film. He seems to suggest that The Colossus of Rhodes failed because our image
of the statue dates from the Renaissance. Helen of Troy failed because it is not
much fun [35]. Nisbet chose three films of questionable association and merit
and uses them to demonstrate why films set in ancient Greece do not work;
but he utterly ignores the Camerini Ulysses (1954) and the various cinematic
adaptations of Greek tragedies as well as the appearances of Greek characters
or Greek characterizations in Fellini Satyricon, A Funny Thing Happened on the
Way to the Forum, and other vintage films.
The second chapter, Mythconceptions [45-86], is aptly named. Nisbet
begins with the incorrect assessment that Greek myths have not made the successful transfer to film, overlooking the quarter-of-a-billion-dollar success (not
including its spin-off) of Disneys Hercules and misstating that the box office
of Troy was a failure despite the fact that it has grossed worldwide $481 million dollars to date, ranking it 51st on the all-time list, not including the profits from its recent Directors Cut DVD release. The questions that should be
asked therefore are why Troy earned only $133 million domestically and $348
million internationally, and why Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and
Xena were particularly successful via television syndication but not suitable for theatrical release. Instead, Nisbet analyzes only the fifth and final pilot
film of Sam Raimis series, Hercules in the Maze of the Minotaur (1995), a minor
x on the map indeed. Here he finds fault with the conflation of Megara and
Deianeira (he seems not to have much tolerance for the process of conflation
at all, as in Petersens Briseis/Cassandra/Clytemnestra). He also points his
disapproving finger at the inclusion of Roman characters in episodes involving Hercules and XenaI did not realize Xena was a pure Greekas well as
the ancient Roman associations of Hercules with the likes of Commodus and
Antony. He then launches into a lengthy discussion of the sidekick problem
[60], lamenting the absence of Hylas (Hercules jailbait boyfriend [60]) and
the fact that films skirt around Hercules penchant for Boy Wonders [62].
But instead of a serious discussion of homosexual taboos in Hollywood and
American television, Nisbet rejoices in his own prose and leaves the reader
with the impression that if the cinematic Hercules were more authentic and
bisexual, he might have been a greater success, which is surely impractical, if
not utter nonsense.

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This chapter does include a valuable discussion of the Mae West/Vegas

connection of such Cinecitt regulars as Dan Vadis and Gordon Mitchell,
though this has little to do with Greece, and Nisbet also discusses even smaller
xs, Hannibal and Gates of Fire, two failed, or failing, projects. He must be incorrect, however, in his assumption that Carthage will not work on screen.
Carthage served well enough for the opening segment of the recent Phantom
of the Opera, not to mention Robert E. Sherwoods Jupiters Darling (1955) and
the Carthage craze that swept Paris in 1862 following publication of Flauberts
Salammb. Nisbet then moves to a brief discussion of Frank Millers 300, criticizing its red Roman cloaks (while ignoring Millers admitted prototype,
Rudolph Mats The 300 Spartans [1962]), and confusing post-He-Man graphic
novel musculature with fetishistic leather gear [73]. He somehow feels justified in similarly lambasting Kubricks Spartacus as well, describing it as a famously camp toga epic [76]. Later he will add: It is entertainingly ironic that
the Spartans, ultra-conservative and purity-fixated Hellenic separatists, blur
so quickly into Roman bogeyman Spartacus and immediately bog down in
borrowed commie/queer kitsch. [87]
Nisbet concludes this second chapter with a discussion of Petersons Troy
(2004), suggesting that Eric Shanowers Age of Bronze produces a more authentically gay Iliad while Petersen (actually, Benioff) clumsily [78] rewrites
Patroclus as Achilles cousin. (Nisbet makes no reference to Barry Purves 1996
claymation Achilles.) Nisbet repeats the incorrect, long-since refuted assertions
that Troy is unfaithful to its notional source, Homers Iliad, and even his otherwise vibrant prose cannot validate his statement that the plot is out to
lunch [83], not unless Benioff was dining with Dares and Dictys, or Philostratus. Nisbet describes the absence of the gods on screen as a watereddown version of the cynical Roman pagans of those same old fifties toga
epics [82], but Ben-Hurs Messala, Arrius, and Pontius Pilate genuinely believe in their divine Tiberius, and the Marcus Aurelius in Anthony Manns
The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964) can hardly be pegged as a cynic. While focusing on his attempt to support this false premise, Nisbet completely ignores
the contemporary battle going on in American popular culture about the viability of religion and the relationship between divinity and military conquest.
His ultimate suggestions for improving Troy seem to be adding in more characters and mythological episodes, e.g. those involving Penthesileia and Memnon, and, again, homoerotic conflict.
The final chapter, Wars of the Successors [87-135], focuses on Alexander the Great. Here Nisbet is wrong in his statement that Oliver Stones
Alexander did miserably at the box officeone of the biggest cinematic disasters of recent years [127]. The film budgeted at $165 million did earn only
$34 million domestically, but it also earned some $125 worldwide and another
$50-plus million from DVD sales. Only a fraction of films earn that many millions over the original budget. Nisbet fails to demonstrate convincingly that
Stones film is a virtual remake practically a scene-for-scene remake [89,
128] of Robert Rossens 1956 release. As for the latter, he finds itcontrary to
his criticism of Troytoo literary [95], and tries to make too much of the
meaningless parallels between Richard Burton as a Welsh alcoholic and Colin
Farrell as an Irish one. He praises the 1964 William Shatner TV-pilot as a contender for the twentieth centurys most significant version of the Alexander

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story, which is not saying much because Nisbet seems to hate all (two) of the
others. Then he attempts to rewrite Oliver Stones career by insisting that antigay and pro-Macedonian advocacy groups forced Stone to make the film he
did not want to make, never once citing a specific statement, let alone any of
Stones many available interviews. To this line of argument he adds the proposals by Baz Luhrmann, Martin Scorsese, Mel Gibson, and others to make
their versions of an Alexander film, relating lots of zippy Hollywood gossip
without demonstrating any attempt at contacting the personalities involved.
As sources he mentions bloggers and IMDb, and he once cites Premier magazine. Along the way he snarls at the HBO/BBC Rome, which takes a step
backwards by being filmed at Romes Cinecitt, the old Fascist-tinged
stomping-ground of conventional toga epic from the silent age onwards
[117]. Here again Nisbet is making an irrelevant historical analogy, and criticizing a film for being shot at a specific studio is just irresponsible.
When Nisbet finally gets to Stones Alexander, he makes another mistake
in saying that Stone had desired to make an Alexander at least since the midnineties: according to Stones own statement in the DVD packet he actually
began a screenplay in college. Nisbet then charges Stone and Lane Fox with
following the pro-Alexander W. W. Tarn perspective because they were pandering to academics [128], and he stoops to criticizing the film for using Latin
names on the Alexandrian map. After taking on the red cloaks again, he claims
that de Mille [sic] invented the convention of using British as evil Romans and
Americans as all-American Christians [130]. This was William Wyler in BenHur. (In the 1934 Cleopatra Julius Caesar, Octavian, and Brutus were all played
by American actors, as were Tigellinus and Titus in the 1932 Sign of the Cross.)
Then Nisbet levels a broadside by attacking his only conceivable audience demographic (classicists who offer easy-to-teach film courses [131]), makes
another awkward historical analogy by categorizing Lane Fox and Stone as
heroic symposiasts, bonded late-night drinking companions in the manner
of Alexander and his Companions [132], and gives another nod of disapproval to chauvinistic modern Greeks for not making their own films on
Alexander. His last-page conclusion is that If the faade of optimism for the
pepla cracked post-Troy, the aftermath of Alexander seems to leave ancient
Greece with no options at allat least in mainstream cinema [135]. At this
writing (October, 2007), Zack Snyders 300 has earned just shy of one-half a
billion dollars.
In his epilogue [137-149] Nisbet dismisses the sheer tedious irrelevance
of scholarly objectivity in an enterprise of this kind [137-138]. He genuinely
enjoys criticizing films and Stone-bashing of this kind, fun though it is [127].
He fails to cite sources, reveal much realistic understanding of the process of
filmmaking, and longs for more campy action and homoerotic daring. In his
last paragraph he seems to envision a new kind of classical studies in which
we have some fun objectivity be damned [140]. No one would accuse
Nisbet of violating that creed in this book.
Jon Solomon
Department of the Classics
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign