Who were Caracalla and Geta, the cruel and unhinged Roman brother emperors depicted in Gladiator II?
- Written by: Michael Hanaghan, Senior Research Fellow in Latin Christianity in Late Antiquity, Australian Catholic University
Warning: this article contains mild spoilers.
When Gladiator I was released in 2000, I was a high school Classics student and the film brought Classical literature to life for me. Dramatic depictions of ancient warfare seemed more real, the machinations of imperial politics all the more serious.
So it was with some trepidation, then, that I went to see Gladiator II. Could it live up to Gladiator I’s high standards? Would it be sufficiently plausible for me to enjoy?
I’m not here to fact-check the film – something already admirably done. Rather, I wanted to reflect on its “truthiness” and historical ambience, and specifically on its portrayal of two Roman emperors, the brothers Caracalla and Geta.
Caracalla and Geta do and say some very odd things in the film that may feel far-fetched to some. In fact, these brothers – and other Roman emperors – really did do some unhinged things.
An intense rivalry
Caracalla was a young boy when Commodus, the cruel and creepy emperor portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix in Gladiator I, died. The tumultous “year of the five emperors” followed, culminating in Caracalla’s father, Septimius Severus, becoming emperor.
In 198CE, Septimius appointed Caracalla – now a boy of ten – to be co-emperor. Then in 209CE he made Caracalla’s younger brother Geta also a co-emperor.
The father and sons ruled until Septimius’ death in early 211CE. The brothers then ruled together until Geta’s death in late 211CE, which was followed by Caracalla’s own death in 217CE.
It was clear the scriptwriters of Gladiator II drew at least in part on the Classical literature that informs our understanding of Ancient Rome.
Sometimes, this influence is obvious. At other times it is more subtle, such as the denouncement of imperialism informed no doubt by the classic anti-imperialist speech given by the Caledonian chieftain Calgacus in the historian Tacitus’ biography of Agricola, the Roman governor of Britain. Keen eyed Latinists will no doubt raise some eyebrows at the graffito easter egg later in the film.
The relatively little we know about Caracalla and Geta are from records by two Greek historians, Herodian and Cassius Dio. There’s also very dubious imperial history written in Latin called the Historia Augusta.
From these sources, it’s clear the brothers had an intense rivalry. This was largely kept in check while their father Septimius Severus was emperor.
But once Septimius died, their relationship devolved into outright hostility.
Bringing out the worst in each other
Geta’s behaviour seems to have been more moderate. The Historia Augusta tell a strange story of him enjoying banquets themed around letters of the alphabet, where every dish featured a food that started with the same letter.
Caracalla was far more unhinged. According to the Historia Augusta, he once fought a lion so he could boast he was Hercules.
He also apparently condemned to death anyone who had urinated near his statues. Interestingly, Caracalla was himself eventually assassinated when he dismounted from his horse to relieve himself.
During his invasion of Persia, he ordered the royal tombs to be desecrated and the bones of past kings to be scattered.
When put together, the brothers seemed to bring out the worst in each other. Not even dividing the imperial palace into two zones was enough to keep the peace.
Obsessed by spectacle
According to the Greek historian Herodian, Caracalla and Geta were obsessed by spectacles, something which suits the film’s depiction of gladiatorial combat well.
Interest in the games of the arena was a common imperial trait. It represented a great political opportunity for an emperor to put his power on display.
So in the film, Geta and Caracalla’s interest and excitement in attending the games strikes me as historically valid.
According to the Greek historian Cassius Dio, Caracalla fancied himself in particular as a fighter in the arena. He reportedly killed a hundred boars by himself in a single day, and solicited money from the crowd by saluting them with a whip from the ground of the arena.
Cassius Dio also alleges Caracalla and Geta befriended gladiators and chariot riders, and that Caracalla broke his leg in a fiercely contested chariot race with his brother.
In the end, Caracalla tricked Geta into a meeting with their mother, on the premise that the brothers might come to terms, and then had him assassinated in front of her.
US actor Fred Hechinger plays Caracalla in Gladiator II.
EPA/ANDY RAIN
Once Caracalla was sole emperor, his games featured a range of animals to be killed for entertainment.
These included elephants, rhinoceros, tigers, zebras, and even, Cassius Dio asserts, a crocotta – a mythical beast, somewhere between a dog, a wolf, a hyena and a lion.
None of our sources mention Caracalla’s appointing of a monkey to high office, a scene depicted in Gladiator II.
But while this is clearly outrageous, Roman emperors were known to act outrageously; there was political advantage to be gained in acting outrageously and getting away with it.
According to the Roman writer Suetonius, the first century Roman emperor Caligula planned to appoint his favourite horse Incitatus to the high office of consul. It may have been as a prank or a form of satirical criticism, the implication being that even a horse could do the job.
The film does miss a bit of an opportunity in that Caracalla and Geta’s mother, Julia Domna, does not feature in the script, given we know imperial mothers and wives often exerted significant influence.
Perhaps the decision to elide Julia Domna was taken so as not to distract from Lucilla, Commodus’ sister, who was a real historical figure (but who actually died before the time Gladiator II was set). Her engagement in the political intrigues of the plot may well have been inspired somewhat by Julia Domna.
In the film, Caracalla and Geta are pretty crazy, but this is more art imitating life than a flight of fancy.
Authors: Michael Hanaghan, Senior Research Fellow in Latin Christianity in Late Antiquity, Australian Catholic University
