Art & Archives, Exhibitions and Installations, Getty Center, Photographs, Film, and Video

Jean-Léon Gérôme, from “Gladiator” to “The Matrix”

“Gérôme forged narrative practices that would take the cinema decades to invent,” art historian Marc Gotlieb told a packed auditorium recently in a discussion of The Spectacular Art of Jean-Léon Gérôme, which closes this Sunday.

Really? How could a 19th-century academic painter like Gérôme—a man adamantly opposed to modernism—have contributed to cinema, the quintessential modern art form?

For one thing, Gérôme’s images pervaded popular culture of the early 20th century, both in Europe and the United States. “Entertainers like Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey’s restaged Gérôme’s pictures in living form,” Gotlieb said. “And directors of early Hollywood spectacles borrowed elements from Gérôme, both sets and plot elements.”

But Gérôme’s contribution to cinema was more than costumes and sets. His ingenuity lay in his innovative use of space and time—what Gotlieb calls his “cinematic imagination.”

<em>Pollice Verso (Thumbs Down)</em>, Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1872. Phoenix Art Museum. Museum purchase. Photograph by Craig Smith

Pollice Verso (Thumbs Down), Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1872. Phoenix Art Museum. Museum purchase. Photograph by Craig Smith


Take Gérôme’s most influential painting, Pollice Verso, in which a triumphant gladiator towers over his opponent in a stadium surrounded by onlookers and the bodies of other defeated foes. “Pollice Verso was hands down the most famous of Gérôme’s pictures to travel to the United States,” Gotlieb said. “Crowds lined up to see it.” And crowds continue to line up, as gallery teacher Christine Spier revealed in her discussion of visitors’ comments on the painting.

The tracks of the chariot races are still fresh on the ground, and we can imagine the thundering horses and the speeding chariots as they raced by. The gladiator looks toward the vestal virgins in the stands as they all feverishly point their thumbs down, pollice verso, indicating the death of the loser. But the final decision is left to the emperor, who sits in his viewing box, slowly eating from his bowl of figs.

Left: Detail of the emperor from Pollice Verso. Right: Detail of the Gladiator from Pollice Verso

What’s special here? “Gérôme spins time on several different axes”, said Gotlieb, who compared the effect to a popular technique in film known as bullet time. Temporally, the scene is slowed so dramatically that we can see events that would normally be undetectable. But spatially, we can still move around the scene as normal, gaining the ability to move around the undetectable event and see it from different perspectives.

This effect was popularized in action films like The Matrix, where the main character, Neo, is shown dodging a bullet in slow motion as the camera moves around the scene at normal speed.

In Gérôme’s Pollice Verso, the effect is similar. As the gladiator looks to the stands, we feel the fervent shouting and pointing of the vestal virgins. The emperor, however, moves in a different sphere of time, slowly eating away at his figs, unfazed by the chaos before him. We, the viewers, are free to move around the scene at our own pace. We look from the vestal virgins, to the gladiator, to the emperor, each flowing at a different speed.

Vestal virgins, crying out for the death of the loser

This technique prefigures the ability of cinema to depict several moments in one shot, to fast-forward, to slow down, to stop.

Is it any surprise that Pollice Verso was an inspiration for Ridley Scott’s Gladiator? The story goes that upon seeing the painting, Scott decided to sign on to direct the project.

Gérôme was criticized in his day for confusing literature with painting. Before the invention of film, passage of time could only be represented in literature, poetry, and spoken word. Gérôme broke that mold—but his method wasn’t fully understood until moving pictures could capture the experience for us.

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4 Comments

  1. Samuel Montero
    Posted September 7, 2010 at 5:16 pm | Permalink

    Nice article – lots of interesting points here. But I have to wonder about your statement toward the end, about Gerome being the one to break the mold (with depicting the passage of time visually). If you look at Botticelli’s “Scenes of the Life of Moses”, which pre-dates Gerome’s work by several hundred years, the passage of time is depicted here quite beautifully also, although in an entirely different way! I’m not sure if Botticelli was the first to employ this cinematic technique (doubtful), but his piece is definitely a masterpiece in its own right: http://www.1st-art-gallery.com/thumbnail/115102/1/Scenes-From-The-Life-Of-Moses.jpg

  2. Ben's Hemp
    Posted September 8, 2010 at 5:59 am | Permalink

    That’s awesome, this painting was clearly ahead of its time! I thought it was a screenshot from Gladiator that was manipulated, only to realize it was painted over a century ago.

  3. Kimberly
    Posted September 25, 2011 at 7:55 pm | Permalink

    I’m looking for the name of one of Gérôme’s photography pieces. It was displayed at the Getty last year – a nude woman suspended in the air encircled by baguettes. If anyone knows the title of this work your help would be greatly appreciated. I want a print so badly!
    -Kimberly

  4. Posted January 21, 2012 at 4:21 pm | Permalink

    Kimberly, I believe that the picture you saw wasn’t by Gerome. There was a concurrent photographic exhibit at the Getty, called “Tasteful Pictures” by various artists.

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      #ProvenancePeek: Titian in Boston

      Every art object has a story—not only of how it was made, but of how it changed hands over time until it found its current home. That story is provenance.

      Portrait of a Man Holding a Book, in the collection of Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, is no exception. The MFA carefully details the painting’s Italian provenance on its collection page, but the path of this object even since then is complex.

      Between 1901 and 1907, Portrait of a Man Holding a Book entered the stock of no less than three galleries, purchased from the Italian family who owned it first by Agnew’s in London, then by Trotti in Paris, and then by Cottier in New York (marking its movement from the Old World to the New). A collector purchased it from Cottier, and the painting was held privately for 36 years.

      That collector was Frederick Bayley Pratt (1865–1945), son of Charles Pratt, oil magnate and founder of the Brooklyn Institute that bears his family’s name (incidentally, this writer’s alma mater!). 

      The Knoedler Gallery dealt frequently with members of the Pratt family. A quick peek into the searchable database of Knoedler’s stock books turns up nine instances in which a Pratt (Charles and Mary, Frederick’s parents, or Herbert and John, his brothers) bought works, as well as five instances where they sold works. This Titian portrait is one of those instances. Frederick Pratt sold the work to Knoedler in early April of 1943, and by the 10th, it had been snapped up by the Museum of Fine Arts.

      Knoedler shared the sale with Pinakos, an art-dealing concern owned and operated by Rudolf J. Heinemann. Purchasing works in tandem with other dealers was a widespread practice amongst powerful art galleries of the time; nearly 6,000 records in the Knoedler database had joint ownership.

      The stock books of the Knoedler Gallery have recently been transformed into a searchable database that anyone can query for free. You can find this Titian under stock number A2555.

      Portrait of a Man Holding a Book, about 1540, Titian (Tiziano Vecellio). Oil on canvas. The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Charles Potter Kling Fund. Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; stock and sales books documenting the painting’s sale by M. Knoedler & Co.

      _______

      ProvenancePeek is a monthly series by research assistant Kelly Davis peeking into provenance finds from the M. Knoedler & Co. archive at the Getty Research Institute.

      04/29/16

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