Believe it or not some sort of code did exist during the pre-Code era but no one felt obliged to follow it. Although lapped up by audiences the excesses on display in this extraordinary opus proved too much to bear in certain quarters and undeniably hastened the formation of the Hays Code and the crackpot Catholic League of Decency. One would hazard a guess that it is not so much the unspeakable cruelty depicted here that caused such moral outrage but the skimpy costumes and the hip-swivelling cooch dance by Joyzelle Joyner with its distinctly lesbian overtones.
Piety and Paganism are in direct opposition here and although Mr. De Mille is seen to be on the side of the angels he is astutely aware of the box office potential of depravity and debauchery.
What should really concern an objective cinéphile is how well-made the film is and how well it has held up over nine decades. The cinematography is lustrous courtesy of Karl Struss, one of the greatest pictorialists in the history of cinema whilst Mitchell Leisen's art and costume design is exemplary. The plot is not entirely original of course as the play by Wilson Barratt from which it is taken had been strongly influenced by the novel 'Quo Vadis?' of Henryk Sienkiewicz. Here the ill-fated lovers are played by Fredric March and Elissa Landi, both of whom do their very best in one-dimensional roles. The classy Miss Landi's portrayal is virtuous without being self-righteous and her anguished cry: "Dear Christ, why?" really touches the heart. A relatively small amount of screen time is allotted to Charles Laughton and Claudette Colbert as Nero and Poppaea but they certainly make the most of it. Miss Colbert is utterly bewitching here and supremely sensuous which makes her the obvious choice to play Cleopatra for the same director two years later. Apparently de Mille was perplexed by the idiosyncratic Mr. Laughton and gave up trying to direct him. Left to his own devices his performance is touched by genius and we are obliged to film historian David Thomson for describing Laughton's interpretation as 'the most flagrant and fleshy portrait of an abandoned homosexual spirit seen in a Hollywood film until that time.'
Although not for the faint hearted this piece is arguably Cecil B. De Mille's finest achievement.
Piety and Paganism are in direct opposition here and although Mr. De Mille is seen to be on the side of the angels he is astutely aware of the box office potential of depravity and debauchery.
What should really concern an objective cinéphile is how well-made the film is and how well it has held up over nine decades. The cinematography is lustrous courtesy of Karl Struss, one of the greatest pictorialists in the history of cinema whilst Mitchell Leisen's art and costume design is exemplary. The plot is not entirely original of course as the play by Wilson Barratt from which it is taken had been strongly influenced by the novel 'Quo Vadis?' of Henryk Sienkiewicz. Here the ill-fated lovers are played by Fredric March and Elissa Landi, both of whom do their very best in one-dimensional roles. The classy Miss Landi's portrayal is virtuous without being self-righteous and her anguished cry: "Dear Christ, why?" really touches the heart. A relatively small amount of screen time is allotted to Charles Laughton and Claudette Colbert as Nero and Poppaea but they certainly make the most of it. Miss Colbert is utterly bewitching here and supremely sensuous which makes her the obvious choice to play Cleopatra for the same director two years later. Apparently de Mille was perplexed by the idiosyncratic Mr. Laughton and gave up trying to direct him. Left to his own devices his performance is touched by genius and we are obliged to film historian David Thomson for describing Laughton's interpretation as 'the most flagrant and fleshy portrait of an abandoned homosexual spirit seen in a Hollywood film until that time.'
Although not for the faint hearted this piece is arguably Cecil B. De Mille's finest achievement.