Fact vs. Fiction: Why Almost Everything You Know From Gladiator Is Wrong

A single painting can ignite an entire world. For the creators of the film Gladiator, that spark was Jean-Léon Gérôme's 19th-century masterpiece, Pollice Verso ("Turned Thumb"). The image is electric: a victorious gladiator stands over his vanquished foe, his gaze fixed on the stands, awaiting the crowd's verdict. That one canvas, bursting with what the film’s director called the "glory and depravity" of the Roman Empire, became the visual and thematic cornerstone for a story that would captivate millions. But how much of that story, which feels so visceral and real, reflects the Rome that actually was?

The powerful imagery of the arena often shapes our entire perception of ancient Rome, but sometimes the most memorable moments are the most misunderstood.

The Fate of a Thumb

We all know the gesture. In the film, Emperor Commodus, with a flick of his thumb—up for life, down for death—seals a gladiator's fate. It’s a moment of absolute, theatrical power. Yet, this iconic gesture is a myth. The Romans did have a signal known as pollice verso, which translates to "with a turned thumb," and it did mean death for the defeated warrior. However, we have no definitive proof of which way the thumb was turned. Many historians believe the gesture might have been a thumb pointed towards the throat or simply thrust out to the side, mimicking the stroke of a sword. The crucial part wasn't the direction but the display of the thumb itself, a symbol of power and, in this context, a fatal verdict.

If the crowd or the sponsor of the games wished to spare the gladiator, they would show a closed fist, hiding the thumb. This gesture symbolized a sheathed sword, an act of mercy. The real Emperor Commodus certainly reveled in his power over life and death, but the cinematic "thumbs down" was not his tool.

Furthermore, death in the arena was not as common as we are led to believe. While the risk was ever-present, gladiators were valuable assets. They were expensive to acquire and train. A living, experienced fighter could entertain crowds for years to come; a dead one was just a loss. Novices and seasoned warriors alike were often spared after a defeat, living to fight another day. A living gladiator was simply better for business.

Stars of the Arena, Scum of Society

The film portrays Maximus and his fellow gladiators as cultural superstars, admired by the masses and even by the imperial family. While it's true that successful gladiators could achieve a level of celebrity, their social standing was a stark contradiction. In reality, gladiators were infames—the infamous ones. They belonged to one of the most despised classes in Roman society, legally on par with slaves and actors.

They were considered property, existing at the very bottom of the social pyramid. While they were valued more than wild animals, their lives were deemed to hold little intrinsic worth. The respect Maximus commands from the people, while dramatically compelling, is largely a modern invention. For a Roman, a gladiator was an object of fascination and entertainment, but also of profound social contempt.

The "First Among Equals"

Joaquin Phoenix’s portrayal of Commodus is one of a pure autocrat, a ruler whose every whim is law. He luxuriates in his imperial status, and no one dares to question him. However, the Rome of the late second century AD was not yet an absolute monarchy. This period was the era of the Principate, a system where the emperor was, in theory, the princeps—the "first among equals."

The traditions of the old Republic, with its Senate and civic offices, were still formally in place. A deep-seated Roman aversion to kingship meant that emperors had to maintain the facade of being the chief magistrate of the state, not its supreme owner. While the emperor held the true power, he was not yet the god-king that later rulers would become during the era of the Dominate, which began more than a century after Commodus.

That being said, the real Commodus did indeed lose his grip on reality. Towards the end of his reign, his ego spiraled into full-blown megalomania. He declared himself the new Romulus, the divine founder of Rome, and even renamed the city Colonia Commodiana after himself. This behavior, far from being admired, bred deep resentment.

A Conspiracy of Dishonor

The film’s climax sees Commodus challenge Maximus to a final duel in the Colosseum. The historical Commodus also loved to enter the arena, boasting hundreds of "victories." Of course, these bouts were carefully staged. No opponent would dare land a real blow on the emperor, ensuring he always emerged triumphant. Unlike his cinematic counterpart, the real Commodus was not especially bloodthirsty in these staged fights and often spared his opponents.

For the Roman elite and public, however, this was the ultimate disgrace. An emperor participating in the bloody, low-class entertainment of gladiatorial combat was an unacceptable degradation of his office. It shattered his status and the respect he was owed. Ultimately, this reckless behavior contributed to his end. There was no noble death in the arena. The real Commodus was brought down by a conspiracy: his mistress Marcia attempted to poison him, and when that failed, he was strangled to death by his wrestling partner, Narcissus. His death, unlike in the film, did not restore the Republic but plunged the empire into a bloody civil war for power.

A Hero Forged from Myth

The character of Maximus is entirely fictional. He is not a lost figure from history but rather a composite, an amalgamation of several Roman ideals and legends.

One of his clearest prototypes is Cincinnatus, a legendary figure from the early Roman Republic. Cincinnatus was a simple farmer who was granted the absolute power of a dictator to save Rome from an invasion. After achieving victory in a mere two weeks, he famously resigned his power and returned to his farm. He embodies the Roman virtue of duty, power without ambition, and a love for the Republic over personal glory.

We can also see echoes of Spartacus, the gladiator who led a massive slave revolt that shook the foundations of Rome. While Maximus doesn't lead a rebellion, he directly challenges and kills a corrupt emperor, symbolically fighting for the freedom of the Roman people.

Perhaps the most direct, though still loose, inspiration was a real person named Marcus Nonius Macrinus, a successful general and a trusted friend of Emperor Marcus Aurelius. While he was a consul and a decorated military man, not a wronged gladiator, his career and high standing in Marcus Aurelius’s time likely provided the template for Maximus’s backstory before his fall from grace.

The Beauty in the Inaccuracy

Beyond the grand narrative, the film takes liberties with countless details. The Roman army would not have used massive catapults in an open forest battle. The armor, especially Commodus’s ornate black suit, is pure fantasy. Christianity, which plays a symbolic role in the film, was at that time a persecuted, underground faith, years away from being openly practiced. And the Senate was not a democratic body representing the common people, but an assembly of aristocrats often at odds with the populace.

The film weaves together a thousand years of Roman history, character archetypes, and aesthetics into one epic tale. It may not be a documentary, but its inaccuracies are part of its power. It makes us feel the weight of history and inspires a desire to peel back the layers of Hollywood fiction and discover the complex, contradictory, and fascinating truth of what Rome was really like. And perhaps sparking that curiosity is the most important thing any historical story can do.

References

• Wiedemann, Thomas. Emperors and Gladiators. Routledge, 1992.
  This work provides a thorough analysis of the role of gladiatorial games in Roman society. It explores the paradoxical status of gladiators as individuals who were both adored as celebrities and legally designated as outcasts (infames). The book details the organization of the games and argues that the decision to spare a defeated gladiator was often an economic one, as trained fighters were a valuable investment (see especially Chapter 2, "The Supply of Gladiators," and Chapter 5, "The Social Standing of Gladiators").
• Birley, Anthony R. Marcus Aurelius: A Biography. Revised Edition, Routledge, 2000.
  This biography offers a detailed account of the reign of Marcus Aurelius and his relationship with his son, Commodus. It directly refutes the film's central premise, showing that Marcus Aurelius spent years carefully preparing Commodus for succession and made him co-emperor, ensuring a smooth, hereditary transfer of power. There is no historical basis for the idea that he intended to pass over his son for a general (see pages 180-192 for details on Commodus's upbringing and elevation).
• Potter, David S. The Roman Empire at Bay, AD 180–395. Routledge, 2014.
  This book examines the Roman Empire beginning with the death of Marcus Aurelius. It clearly explains the political structure of the Principate, where the emperor ruled with the theoretical consent of the Senate, and contrasts it with the later Dominate. The book details the erratic and tyrannical reign of Commodus, his eventual assassination, and the subsequent civil war, known as the Year of the Five Emperors, which highlights the instability that followed his death rather than the restoration of the Republic depicted in the film (see pages 73-91 for the reign of Commodus and its aftermath).