Based on conventional metrics like, say, tastefulness or storytelling integrity, the 1980 movie “Caligula” is not good. It is, however, completely nuts. And that has turned out to be more than enough to fuel an obsessive cult over the decades.
Part of what drives the enduring interest in “Caligula” is its over-the-top combination of outré aesthetics, exploitation-film tropes, a Gore Vidal screenplay, and a cast including Malcolm McDowell, Helen Mirren and Peter O’Toole.
Even more crucial is the belief that a masterpiece lurks within the mangled original release. Now attempting to prove that theory is “Caligula: The Ultimate Cut,” the latest iteration of a film that has gone through an unfathomable number of edits over the decades. This is the rare re-edited version of a movie that features less graphic sex and violence than the original. What kind of world are we living in?
Long story short: After production on “Caligula” ended, the producer (and Penthouse publisher) Bob Guccione decided to enliven the rise and fall of the infamous Roman emperor (an impressively committed McDowell) by splicing in pornographic segments.
Now Thomas Negovan has patched together a cut that he claims is more faithful to Vidal’s intentions, using nearly 100 hours of footage unearthed in the Penthouse archive. The problem is that the original shoot, directed by Tinto Brass, was so fraught from the start that there seems to have been little agreement on the intentions and tone.
Beyond removing Guccione’s hard-core contributions (though “The Ultimate Cut” still has a lot of explicit content), Negovan’s aim appears to be to legitimize “Caligula” as a portrayal of an anarchic free spirit whose descent into psychopathy is enabled by a coterie of subservient lackeys.
Connoisseurs will spot the use of alternate takes, the re-editing of some scenes (most notably a wedding featuring a double rape) and the moving around of others — an interlude of Caligula and his sister and incestuous lover, Drusilla (Teresa Ann Savoy), frolicking in the woods now happens much later in the movie. There is also a new animated opening credits sequence by the “Sandman” artist Dave McKean.
A general upside is more screen time for the bemused-looking Mirren as Caligula’s wife, Caesonia, even if the character remains underwritten.
A major downside is that Bruno Nicolai’s original music and the signature classical cues by Prokofiev and Khachaturian have been replaced by a new score by Troy Sterling Nies that is anodyne at best.
That quality goes against the very essence of the original “Caligula,” which ended up, purposely or not, portraying a mad emperor via, one might argue, madness: disjointed storytelling, haphazard acting, baroque flourishes, an utter disregard for the conventions of moviemaking or propriety.
Luckily, there are still enough of those touches that newcomers to “Caligula” are likely to watch with shock and not a little awe — the great production designer Danilo Donati’s contributions alone are worth the trip.
If there is one thing that is likely to never change about this movie, it’s that it will never be consensual, even among those who made it. In a classic move, Brass — who is now only credited with “principal photography” — took exception with “The Ultimate Cut” last year.
Caligula: The Ultimate Cut
Not rated. Running time: 2 hours 58 minutes. In theaters.
Read More: ‘Caligula: The Ultimate Cut’ Review: The Emperor’s New Clothes
