Feasting Out on Peplum, Swords, Sandals and Sorcery: A Short-lived Historical/Mythological Film Sub-Genre

Posted on February 3, 2024February 3, 2024 by E Curb Nottus

Ancient history, Cinema, Memorabilia, Popular Culture, Regional History

As a kid I was wholly immersed in what film critics call ”epic films“…those mega-large scale productions with sweeping scope and spectacle, unfettered extravagance, lavishly costumed, a cast of thousands (actual persons, not a computer-generated substitution of a multiplicity of images for people en masse), exotic locations, loosely set in a far ago historical context which could be Biblical, could be Viking sagas, Sinbad the Sailor/Arabian Nights adventures, 16th century pirates, Spanish Conquistadors in the New World, 12th century Crusaders venturing forth for the Holy Land or from countless other pages in the chronicles of history. Even movies which mix myth with history like the Robin Hood sagas or the Arthurian legend drew me to their flame. But it was the world of antiquity, in particular the BC era as interpreted on celluoid screens large or small that most fired my imagination. My all-time favourite viewing entertainments back then were “sword-and-sandal” movies. Yes okay I admit that when we got a TV set in the late Fifties, watching Westerns started to consume the lion’s share of my leisure time, but by circa 1960 there was just so many damn TV westerns, “horse operas”, “oaters” call them what you like monopolising air time on the box, that you had to be discerning to avoid them (which I wasn’t!).

King of Kings (1961): dubbed “I was a teenage Jesus” by critics upon its release

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The Peplum:
This quintessential term in the epic film lexicon comes from the garment worn by Greek women in the Archaic era, the peplos. What the Hellenic women of antiquity called a peplos—a long outer robe or shawl which hung from the body in loose folds and sometimes was drawn over the head—is a far cry from how moviemakers in the mid-20th century conceived the garment. Peplaⓐ in the Greco-Roman cinematic universe were a much sexier affair, mini-length tunics to show off shapely legs (and worn by both sexes).

Peplum fashionistas

In that less prescriptive age when no one fretted much about the adverse physiological (or psychological) effects on juveniles of their maxing out in front of the idiot box 12 hours a day, my penchant was to get as much Hollywood epic blockbusters into me as I could manage—this included such classic Hollywood biblical and historical fodder as Ben-Hur, The Ten Commandments and Spartacus —seeing them in the picture theatre and again on television when they turned up there. If I had to nominate one ancient world epic flick as my all-time favourite though, I’d probably plump for the 1963 Jason and the Argonauts movie– admittedly a smaller scale ‘indy’ production without the big name star drawing power (maybe more “epic-lite?”). It’s stellar appeal lay in part, like its more famous fellow Greek myth story, “The Odyssey”, in the adventure-packed extravaganza of its Classical heroic tale, its virtuous protagonist’s quest and ultimate triumph against the longest of odds stacked against him. But what elevated Jason and the Argonauts above the pack for my 11-year-old self was undoubtedly the film’s fantasy special effects. I was captivated by the myriad of fearsome legendary creatures created by Ray Harryhausen’s ground-breaking SFX wizardry—though to more discerning adult eyes they must have looked decidedly “hokey” and “stilted”—the glorious highlight of which was the iconic scene where Jason single-handedly battles the frenetic army of animated sabre-wielding skeletons – and emerges triumphant of course!

Jason and the Argonauts (1963): Harryhausen’s Special FX

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At some point in my juvenile years I developed a special fondness for Italian-made sword-and-sandal ⓑ flicks, something which I find hard today to rationalise. These are films, made primarily between the late Fifties and the mid Sixties, with trite, ludicrous and meaningless translated titles like Goliath and the Vampires, Hercules Against the Sons of the Sun, Samson Against the Sheik and Ursus in the Valley of the Lions. Most are set in ancient Greece, sometimes in Rome or elsewhere within the Empire (occasionally somewhere more exotic), and characteristically with storylines and events riddled with anachronisms.

Ursus finds himself in the Amazon in this 1960 entry

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The sword-and-sandal formula
Robert Rushing defines the peplum as “depicting muscle-bound heroes…in mythological antiquity, fighting fantastic monsters and saving scantily clad beauties”. Sloppily dubbed into halting English, atrociously woodenly acted, scenes lacking continuity, the plots are ludicrously formulaic, typically involving a superhuman strong man hero who stereotypically runs through his repertoire of superhuman feats of strength, triumphing over all foes while rescuing a beautiful but defenceless heroine (typically wearing the briefest peplum imaginable) and sometimes liberating the oppressed masses to boot at the same time. Unlike Hollywood’s lavish epic spectacles (Quo Vadis?, Cleopatra, Ben-Hur, etc.) , these Italian homegrown peplums were decidedly low-budget flicks which zeroed in on the hero’s beefcake attributesⓒ. (‘Sword-and-Sandal’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org). The Italian cinematic peplum was indeed a curious passion of my pre-teen to early adolescent years.

*Hercules* (1958) with Steve Reeves: prototype for the Italian sword-and-sandal film

Hercules by another name
The ur-peplum was Hercules (Italian title: Le Fatiche di Ercole), released in 1958, starring American bodybuilder-turned-actor Steve Reeves, an instant hit which pocketed >$5,000,000 profit for the producers and backers and unleashed a steady stream of sequels starting with Hercules Unchained. As a variation to Hercules, other strongman protagonists were added to subsequent peplum movies, including Samson, Goliath, Ursus and Italy’s own folk hero Macisteⓓ. By 1965 the peplum was pretty much passé in Italy, with the void quickly filled by Spaghetti Westerns and Eurospy films.

My fascination with this Continental movie sub-genre was even more remarkable and unfathomable because, even then, I knew that the films were egregiously badly put together! Watching them was like being drawn against your better instincts to look at something as horrific as a car crash…you know it’s wrong but you just can’t resist the temptation. The unequivocal fact that the sword-and-sandal pictures were such thoroughly execrable, absolute turkeys of films perversely had precisely zero impact on my satisfaction quotient during my early impressionable years!

This 1964 ”Sword-and-sandaller” *Maciste Contre Les Hommes De Pierre* was released in English as *Hercules Against the Moon Men*, (“Hercules meets Sci-Fi”)

Footnote: Now at an age where I am hurtling towards senectitude I find the grainy and tired-looking footage and the equally tired storylines so unappetising that I couldn’t even stuck it out for 10 minutes, let alone stay the course of a peplum…but even with my profoundly diminished enthusiasm I still hold a soft spot for the deeply flawed sub-genre…I guess that’s simply nostalgia kicking in – the remembrances of things past which seemed better then (ie, in my youth) than they do now guided presumably by a more mature, more measured outlook.⿻⿻⿻

The sub-genre’s popularity in the early ’60s prompted the Three Stooges to get in on the act with a slapstick, farcical take on the Italian peplum The Three Stooges Meet Hercules (1962)

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ⓐ plural of peplum

ⓑ “sword-and-sandal” and “peplum” are used interchangeably to describe this sub-genre, both terms have a disparaging connotation. The sorcery component of the sub-genre was something I could take or leave

ⓓ Maciste as strongman in the peplum films was resurrected from a previous incarnation in the silent era of Italian cinema

Rome’s Chariot Racing: The “Formula One” of the Ancient World

Posted on December 16, 2023January 18, 2024 by Bonza Rottwheeler

Ancient history, Cinema, Regional History, Society & Culture, Sports history

People tend to associate the sport of chariot racing with the ancient Romans, thanks in part to Hollywood and movies like Ben-Hur…chariot racing was a fundamental part of ludi circenses (circus entertainment) for the Roman public, together with gladiatorial combats, mock hunts and wild animals pitted against each other. Chariot racing however wasn’t an activity that originated with the Romans, the ancient Greeks and the Etruscans were right into the sport long before them𝔸. It emerged in the Hellenic world at least as early as 700BC with contests taking place in stadia known as hippodromes (“horse course”). The sport features in the Iliad and by 684BC it was so popular it debuted as an event in the proto-Olympic games. In Greek chariot races the competitors were the owners of the rigs and horses, and with Spartan women entitled to own property, this allowed some women to participate in the popular sporting spectacle. Success in the four-horse races was well remunerated, with prizes for the winner such as 140 ceramic pots of olive oil (‘Ben-Hur: The Chariot Race’, A Historian Goes to the Movies, 16-Sep-2016, http://aelarsen.wordpress.com).

*Spartan woman winning a chariot race (vase decoration)*

The premier venue for Roman chariot racing, the epicentre of the sport in antiquity, was the massively-proportioned Circus Maximus, a specially-constructed race course located between the Aventine and Palantine hills in Rome. The course was an extended oblong shape along a 2,037-foot-long sand track (spatium) with sharp 180° turns at each end (a race comprised seven laps with the top speeds nudging 40 mph) (Encyclopedia Romana, Upd. 21-Nov-2023, www.penelope.uchicago.edu). The rage for currus circenses (chariot racing) as a spectator sport was such that the Roman went from having 10-12 races a day on 17 days of the year only in Emperor Augustus’ time to 100 races per day during the reign of Domitian. The standard “horse power” for racing chariots was four horses—called a quadriga or quardigae𝔹—piloted by older, more experienced horsemen called agitatos, whereas novice drivers (auriga) were usually assigned a bigae (two-horse vehicles). Less common but not unheard of were six, eight and ten-horse chariots. The best horses for currus circenses were sourced from the Roman provinces of Lusitania and Hispania and from North Africa (‘Chariot Racing: Rome’s Most Popular, Most Dangerous Sport’, Patrick J Kiger, History, Upd. 17-July-2022, www.history.com).

*All that remains today of Circus Maximus*

To the Roman masses, the chariot drivers were above all entertainers, just like actors or musicians of the day, but there was a duality to how they were viewed by society. The elite drivers were lauded and lionised by the public (just like elite sportsmen today), but at the same time they were cursed as witches or magicians (this conclusion was drawn because how else could you explain their repeated victories?)(Kiger). Not all social elites in Rome were as gung-ho about the sport as the populus Romanus, although the egregious and unstable emperors Caligula and Nero were both big fans.

*To the victor, laurels…and “big bucks”*

Charioteers faced a high danger of injury or death from their profession, but the lure was the prospect of fabulous wealth…for the best race drivers. The prize money for a single victory ranged from 15-30 thousand sesterces up to 60,000 sesterces. If you were successful on the track and survived, you could earn a fortune and set yourself up for life…one such ace driver was Portuguese-born Gaius Appeuleius Diocles whose 24-year career netted him upward of 36,000,000 secterces from 1,462 victories. Diocles’ race winnings, valued today as equivalent to US$17 bn, would place him far above the superstar earnings of the Michael Jordans and Novak Djokovics of the modern era in sport (Kiger).

*Diocles, champion of the Red team (source: earlychurchhistory.org)*

Charioteers competed in teams under the aegis of factiones (factions) which like Formula One racing today, were under the control of team bosses/owners – these were different associations of contractors. The four principal factions, each one associated with a particular season and god, were known as the Reds, Blues, Greens and Whitesℂ. Each faction team had its own talent scouts whose job it was to find the most promising charioteers and horses, and each team had its own passionate tribal supporters base, much as we see today in professional football𝔻 (‘Chariot Races’, The Roman Empire in the First Century, www.pbs.org).

The faction bosses bankrolled the whole operation of their teams, including the engagement of medical and veterinary staff, in return they took a cut of the drivers’ winnings. With customarily 12 charioteers in a race (three drivers from each team), teams pursued a stratagem of using their two lesser drivers to try to manoeuvre and block their opponents to maximise the chances of success of their team’s star driver (Formula One and contemporary professional cycling adopt similar team tactics in races) (‘Chariot Racing’, Travels Through Greco-Roman Antiquity, http://exhibits.library.villanova.edu).

*A Roman mosaic of two famous race horses (source: earlychurchhistory.org)*

Chariot racing revolved around money, not just for the drivers and factiones, betting on the outcome by the race-going “punters” was big business too. The Circus Maximus didn’t have on-course bookies or the TAB or Ladbrokes but betting was widespread on an individual basis. Prior to a race spectators in the seated areas or in the refreshment arcades would make private wagers with each other on the upcoming race.

Footnote: Hollywood does currus circenses ⟴⟴⟴ Most movie-watchers would have seen the 1959 biblical era blockbuster Ben-Hur, the Charlton Heston version immortalised for its epic 20-plus minutes chariot race. The race is a thrilling climax to the movie, accurately capturing the danger and drama of a real chariot contest in Ancient Rome, however much of what is shown veers away from historical verisimilitude…there are nine bronze dolphin lap counters, not seven, though the chariots are comparatively light as they needed to be. In Roman charioteering the race drivers were formed into teams (as outlined above), whereas in the film this is completely ignored with each competitor singularly representing different ethnicities (Jew, Roman, Arab, etc). Roman chariot races had staggered starts and starting gates (carceres) to negate the advantage to drivers nearest the inner wall or barrier (the spina), the movie is again historically out-of-kilter. First, the contestants line up one abreast, backing on to the the spina which seems to be borrowed from the way Formula One car races used to start in the 1950s, then they wheel round and start in a straight line across the sand-strewn track. Having Ben-Hur’s antagonist the elite Roman soldier Messala as a charioteer, is also all wrong…chariot drivers were recruited from the lower orders, slaves, freedmen, foreigners, they were infamis, the disreputable in society, men with a black mark against them. Lastly, Ben-Hur and Messala and the other drivers all hold the reins of their horses during the race, unlike what the Romans actually did, which was to tie the reins around the charioteer’s waist during the race (‘A Historian”).

‘Ben-Hur’, the iconic chariot race scene

𝔸 and the Byzantines continued the sport after the fall of Rome

𝔹 the quadriga races were the main event of the ludi circenses race day

ℂ the Blues and the Greens, the two largest factions, engaged in a fierce rivalry

𝔻 there were also occasionally spectator riots, as in football

Queen Hatshepsut’s Wondrous Showcase Valley Temple stained by Tragedy

Posted on August 31, 2018February 26, 2024 by funambulator@live.com

Ancient history, Archaeology, Travel

Our visit to the Mortuary Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, AKA the Deir el-Bahri (“Northern Monastery”) was the highlight of the visit to Luxor, a happy wrap to a long day mostly spent peering into a raft of dark, underground Egyptian burial tombs in the nearby Valley of the Kings. From the Queen’s monastery entrance gate near the West Bank of the Nile we were ferried out to the site in “people-movers”, open transit E-vehicles. This sublime gem of a temple stands out from the others for several reasons! First of all – the fun-sounding name, we were informed by Bakr that it is correctly pronounced “Hat-cheap-suit” which is a pretty good memory device to resort to, but the quipsters in our tour party were quick to translate it into “Hot n’chicken-soup” or even more absurdly “Hot-chip’n’soup”! (in the dusty air and baking heat of the Valley, lunch was never far from our minds!). It was special too because remarkably Queen Hatshepsut was only one of two female pharaohs in Ancient Egyptian history (d.1458 BCE, 18th Dynasty). The first, Sobekneferu (d.1802 BCE, 12th Dynasty) was a more shadowy figure and a much less substantive ruler. Hatshepsut first ascended the imperial throne as co-regent with her half-brother but assumed full pharaonic powers after his death. Her reign was notable for its building projects, especially around Thebes (her crowning glory this memorial temple, Deir el-Bahri, built in Western Thebes) and for extending the kingdom’s trading links possibly as far as Punt (Eritrea) in the Horn of Africa. In the contemporary images, statues and sculptures of Hatshepsut✱, she is depicted (on her own orders) as a man, eg, the free-standing colonnade sculptures of the Queen in her showcase Thebes temple show her with a manly build and a characteristic pharaoh’s beard and attire. Lastly there is its peerless aesthetic appeal. Most of the other mortuary houses in Luxor’s valley look drab and unprepossessing by comparison. The temple is magnificently set in a natural valley against a towering backdrop of massive craggy mountains. Though upward of 3,500 years old in some ways it looks strangely modern with its ramps, two-tired terraces and the simplicity of clean, white, sharp lines of the colonnades and facade…the simplicity of the building and the way it blends into the landscape reminds me a bit of the architecture of Chicago’s Prairie School. Hatshepsut’s pet name for the temple was Djeser Djeseru (“splendour of Splendours”), in the ancient era the elegant simplicity of Deir el-Bahri was enhanced by a number of aesthetic features and elements that haven’t survived to the present day (eg, an avenue of sphinxes, fountains, lines of myrrh trees from the land of Punt) [The Rough Guide to Egypt (2007 Ed.)]. The distressing, tragic contemporary association with this sublimely beautiful monument is that it was here that 58 international tourists as well as four Egyptians were massacred by terrorists in 1997, a further 26 visitors or more were injured in the onslaught (the worst-ever terrorist atrocity involving tourists in Egypt). The terrorist group, suspected to be a splinter arm of al-Jama’a al-Islamiyya (Egyptian Sunni Islamist organisation)✥ entered the complex in the guise of security guards, trapping the victims inside the temple and setting on them with knives and guns. The murderers later fled and committed suicide in the surrounding hills. The largest proportion (>60%) of the murdered tourists came from Switzerland (later on Swiss intelligence ‘determined’ that Osama Bin Laden had bankrolled the operation). A direct consequent of the Luxor massacre was both a beefing up of tourist security and a drop in Egypt’s tourist numbers. Subsequent terrorist attacks elsewhere within the country has ensured the maintenance of high levels of security by the Egyptian authorities to this day.

🔼 Pharaoh and Queen, Hatshepsut

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✱ the statues of Hatshepsut that survive that is, many at the temple were predictably decimated by later male pharaohs in a chauvinist attempt to erase her from the annals of Egypt’s pharaonic ‘pantheon’
✥ although this charge has continued to be denied by al-Jama’a al-Islamiyya itself

By Boat to Philae, Visiting an Ancient Egyptian ‘Treasure Island’

Posted on August 31, 2018February 26, 2024 by funambulator@live.com

Ancient history, Archaeology, Travel

The island containing the Temple of Philae and other significant, associated monuments from antiquity is a definite starter on the list of essential things to see when in the Nubian region of Egypt. So, after the tour guide had taken us to the Aswan High Dam to get a sighter from the bridge of the vast reservoirs of water, we made for the island✱. The temple and other monuments we were going to see were originally on Philae island, but by the 1960s the Egyptian government, concerned at the harmful effect the periodical flooding of the island was having on the monuments and its archaeological relics (a by-product of the Aswan Low Dam), decided to relocate them to a more optimal place – mirroring the story with the Abu Simbel Tow Temples and the Aswan High Dam. The nearby island of Aglika was chosen as the new site and in a logistics exercise that consumed virtually all the seventies, Philae’s temples and monuments “island-hopped” to Aglika. There was some inexplicable delay (becoming quite the norm) when we got to the wharf in getting a boat to ferry us to the new island. One of the random fellow passengers on the boat ride was perhaps the most exotic ‘apparition’ we had encountered in all our time in Egypt. I say ‘apparition’ because although she was real, so oddly and eccentrically was she decked out in extravagant garb and paraphernalia, she was totally out-of-place with everyone else in the sweltering heat of the day. The image that occurred to me when I saw her was of a kind of Egyptian “Mary Poppins”. She was covered from head to foot in multi-layers of gaily coloured clothing, fancy “Sunday-best” gloves, etc, the whole kit! Yes and of course the obligatory umbrella as well! She also looked like she could seamlessly slot into the cast of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile, no problems. We were all melting in the oppressive tropical heat in our thin cotton T-shirts, shorts and sandals, so I can’t imagine how she was feeling it. As it transpired, ‘Maryam’ Poppins had an eccentric personality to match her flamboyant attire. She tried to blame us for the boat’s delay and then wanted to use us as money-changers. I couldn’t quite fathom what exactly the proverbial bee in her over-veiled bonnet was! As the boat neared the island the vision was an enchanting one, the central complex of buildings seemed to be growing out of the lush green band of trees and bushes which surround it! It was easy to spot the distinctive twin pylons of the Temple of Isis. Philae was one of the strongholds for the cult of worshipping the all-empowering Egyptian goddess. Once you set foot on the island you find its full of fascinating monuments and artefacts which reveal a rich and varied history and an assortment of diverse cultural influences. The earliest religious structures reach back to the 4th century BCE and the Pharaonic era. Others date to the Ptolemaic Kingdom (Alexander the Great’s Graeco-Egyptian successors from Ptolemy I up to Cleopatra). A number of the buildings still extant were erected under the aegis and command of Roman emperors, eg, the Kiosk of Trajan (above). Even the early century Byzantine rulers have left an imprint on Philae as did the Coptic Christians. Most impressive of all perhaps is the forecourt of the main temple with its splendid colonnaded, the courtyard is an irenic atmosphere-evoking space. Also calming and softening the setting was the afternoon sunlight filtering in between the temple’s columns and reflecting on the still waters of the river in the background. The temple’s stand-out for me remains the striking reliefs of Egyptian deities (especially) on the Second Pylon (above), sharply defined sculptures which have been exceptionally well-preserved (or restored) bearing in mind that the temple walls had been half-submerged for considerable periods when it was still located on the vulnerable Philae island. In addition to the Temple of Isis and the Kiosk of Trajan, the island contains five lesser temples, two Roman gates, the Portico of (Emperor) Augustus and the Pavilion or Vestibule of (Pharaoh) Nactanebo I. The site’s various buildings are rich in the representation of pictographic narratives…the trained eye of Egyptologist Biko drew our attention to other, unauthorised markings on the monuments – various graffiti inscriptions is left by past visitors from the Roman epoch through to the Napoleonic period…which is visual confirmation – if we needed it – that graffiti has been around for just about forever (‘How Old is Graffiti?‘, www.wonderopolis.org).