Approved | 3h 4m | Drama, Epic | 1961
Director Anthony Mann’s film tells of Islamic conquest that dominated 11th-century western Europe, and of Spanish Christian kingdoms, who called their Arabic-Muslim rivals, Moors, and their rulers, Moorish emirs. It’s only loosely based on the real-life El Cid. So, don’t go rushing for those history books.
In the film, North Africa’s Gen. Ben Yusuf (Herbert Lom) envisions Islamic expansion in Europe, provoking emirs to invade Spain. Castile’s King Ferdinand’s knight, Rodrigo de Vivar (Charlton Heston) captures the emirs invading a Spanish village. Count Ordóñez (Raf Vallone) wants them hanged. But Rodrigo wonders: Why not make peace instead of perpetuating vengeance? He releases the emirs, provided they don’t attack again. Grateful, and in awe of Rodrigo’s mercy, one emir, Moutamin (Douglas Wilmer) grants him the sobriquet, “El Cid,” meaning “lord” or “leader.” Stung, another emir, Al-Kadir (Frank Thring) bides his time to fulfill Yusuf’s dream.
Mercy on the battlefield echoes rather unmercifully in the palace. Ordóñez cries treason and co-accuser Count Gormaz insults Rodrigo’s father. So, Rodrigo duels, then kills Gormaz, father of Rodrigo’s fiancée, Chimene (Sophia Loren). Furious, Chimene offers to marry Ordóñez if he’ll kill Rodrigo. Rodrigo not only overcomes Ordóñez’s ambush but also wins Chimene’s hand. Still, he’ll not treat her as wife until she wills herself to him, not to fulfill an obligation.
King Ferdinand’s death tests Rodrigo’s patriotism, what with princes Sancho (Gary Raymond) and Alfonso (John Fraser), and princess Urraca (Genevieve Page) squabbling for the spoils. Alfonso becomes king but exiles Rodrigo for hinting publicly at his and Urraca’s hand in Sancho’s death. Now awakened to Rodrigo’s sincerity, Chimene joins him in exile. The legend of El Cid spreads, especially after he orders bread hurled into Valencia, knowing its people are starving under Al-Kadir’s chokehold. But will Rodrigo and his Spanish and Moorish foes-turned-friends withstand Yusuf’s decisive assault on Valencia?
Medieval Marvel
Martin Scorsese once wrote of the film’s “sense of the old world—it has a solidity and presence that simply wouldn’t be possible today.” Compared to films with CGI’s superficial images, such epics have a ”visual force,“ thanks to their vast landscapes and ”thousands of extras.” Here, Mann uses 1,700 Spanish Army troops, 500 Madrid Municipal Honor Guard riders and over 2,000 costumes. Miklós Rozsa’s music lends the same old-world grandeur he brought to renowned epics, including “Quo Vadis” (1951).
To get some sense of Mann’s challenges directing a sword-and-sandal epic in 1961, remember that three of the biggest epics had just been released: “The Ten Commandments,” (1956), “Ben-Hur,” (1959), and “Spartacus,” (1960). Worse, the first two featured Mann’s star, Heston, and Mann himself had started directing the third, before Kubrick took over. That’s the scale of Mann’s achievement, shaping an epic that holds its own as a critical and commercial success.
Regardless of its fictional vein, the film doesn’t present one-dimensional peoples, Moors or Spaniards. Alfonso is as much a Christian bigot as Yusuf is a Muslim bigot; counterintuitively, their bigotry renders them godless. Equally, Emir Moutamin is as much a humanist as Rodrigo. Both respect courage and mercy wherever they see it.
Mann’s eye for mood and emotion pervades his storytelling. He preserves the righteousness of both Rodrigo and Chimene, even when they’re adversarial. The moment Rodrigo’s sword strikes Gormaz’s dueling arm, honor quenched, he’s ready to stop. But Gormaz persists, throwing Rodrigo on the defensive and the fatal blow is struck offscreen, behind a rising staircase. Chimene dresses in white when professing her love for Rodrigo, but in black when spurning him. Palace scenes bristle with dramatic tension as rivals ride, on their horses, right up to Ferdinand’s throne! A 10-minute outdoor jousting scene sees horse-mounted knights bearing lances over 13 feet long. And over 1,000 soldiers storm the beach while Valencia’s fate hangs in the balance. Yet, Mann doesn’t allow these marvels to mute his message.
Opening scenes depict Rodrigo as a Christlike figure, carrying a cross amid ruins. Mann hints at a Christian motif of life amid (and after) death, and at how division and devastation forge great leaders. Mann redefines leadership as universal, recognized beyond borders—it is an outsider, a non-Christian, Moutamin, who rechristens Rodrigo as “El Cid.” Ahead of a dangerous expedition Ferdinand asks Rodrigo not to spare son Sancho hardship and to teach him that “peace, not war, is the real task of a king.” Sure enough, when Sancho prods Rodrigo to kill Ordóñez after Ordóñez’s ambush unravels, Rodrigo roars at Sancho, “You will soon be a king. You must learn to think like one. Any man can kill; only a king can give life!”
