The Sign of the Cross (1932)

Cecil B. DeMille’s The Sign of the Cross (1932) is one of the most notorious of all Hollywood pre-code movies. It can be interpreted in various ways, which makes it also one of the most fascinating pre-code films. It’s a story of faith and it also offers a smorgasbord of sex and sin.

1932 was the worst year of the Depression and it looked like being a dismal year for Hollywood. Movie theatre attendances had crashed by half. It was also shaping up to be a bad year for Cecil B. DeMille. He was being pursued by the IRS and after a couple of not-too-successful movies no studio would touch him. His career was on the skids. DeMille however had no intention of fading away or retiring. He had come up with an idea. He had bought the rights to Wilson Barrett’s religious play The Sign of the Cross. Everybody told DeMille he was crazy, that audiences wanted breezy fluffy entertainment, that it was the wrong time for such a project. But DeMille made Paramount an offer they couldn’t refuse. He would put up half the money for the project out of his own pocket.

It was make-or-break for DeMille. If the movie flopped he was finished. It was pretty important for Paramount as well. They desperately needed a hit.

Barrett’s play dates from 1895 and strongly resembles the very popular novel Quo Vadis, published at around the same time. It’s a basic story that has been filmed more than once, and in more than one way.

The movie is set in Rome during the reign of the Emperor Nero. Rome has just been devastated by the Great Fire of AD 64 and Nero decides to make the Christians the collective scapegoats for that disaster. Christians are to be hunted down and executed.

The Prefect of Rome, Marcus Superbus (Fredric March), is the most powerful man in Rome after the Emperor. In many ways he’s a typical Roman (or at least he conforms to the stereotyped view of Romans of that era). He is loyal to Nero but Marcus lives for pleasure and he’s clearly very fond of women. In fact he’s notorious for his obsession with women. On the other hand it’s obvious from the start that Marcus is not an especially cruel man. In fact he has a definite soft-hearted side.

He meets a pretty girl, Mercia (Elissa Landi) and it’s love at first sight. She’s very keen on him as well. But Mercia is a Christian. Falling in love with a Christian girl is a very dangerous thing to do. It’s even more dangerous for Marcus since Nero’s empress, Poppaea (Claudette Colbert) is in lust with him. Poppaea means to have Marcus and she’s not going to let a Christian girl get in her way.

A secret meeting of the Christians is broken up by the Roman soldiery, with considerable bloodshed, and the survivors are destined to be executed in imaginative ways in the arena. Marcus is determined to save Mercia while Poppaea plots to get Mercia out of the way.

It’s not the story itself that is so interesting. It’s the way DeMille handles it. On one level it’s a pious Christian story of faith. On another level it’s a fun-filled romp of sex and debauchery. The debate about this movie centres on the question of DeMille’s actual intentions. Was he sincerely trying to make a morally uplifting religious movie or was he more interested in presenting us with a sex and sin extravaganza? I’ve always tended towards the view that DeMille was trying to have his cake and eat it too. That he was consciously making a movie that could be enjoyed on both levels.

The Catholic Church at the time had no doubt what DeMille’s intentions were. They went ballistic. They were so outraged that they formed the Catholic Legion of Decency to combat this kind of Hollywood wickedness.

For me the main support for the theory that DeMille was trying to have it both ways is that the Christians come across as being rather dull and even rather sanctimonious while the wicked pagans are attractive, sexy and fun. On the other hand DeMille does not in any way gloss over the cruelties of pagan Rome.

There’s also the question of casting. DeMille was pretty careful in his casting choices so it’s reasonable to believe that he mostly got the cast he wanted. And the actors playing the Christians are pretty dull. Those playing the sinful pagans are colourful, entertaining and great fun. This doesn’t just apply to the players in the main rôles. The actors playing minor Christian characters are dull and those playing minor pagan characters are lively and attractive.

Of course it’s possible that DeMille believed that Christian audiences would like the fact that the performances by the cast members playing Christians are terribly terribly earnest.

What’s also interesting (and daring in a way only pre-code movies could be) is that DeMille presents the Christian side of the argument but he gives us the pagan side as well, and the pagan point of view is presented without demonising it.

Enough of this. There are other things that need to be talked about. Such as Claudette Colbert. And her famous bathing-in-asses’-milk nude scene. And yes, you do clearly get to see her nipples. This is a full-on pre-code movie. Colbert is at her sexiest, and Claudette Colbert at her sexiest is something to behold. She’s superb and she sizzles.

Charles Laughton goes totally over-the-top as Nero, which is as it should be. Fredric March is an actor I’ve never been able to warm to. That might just be me. Elissa Landi is painfully earnest as Mercia.

Then there’s the spectacle, and the sin and debauchery. The arena scenes display DeMille’s absolute master of spectacle and his gift for the outrageous and the outlandish. The battle between thirty African pygmy warriors and thirty amazon women warriors is a major highlight. There’s also the nude girl and the crocodiles, and the nude girl and the gorilla. DeMille was never afraid to go for maximum outrageousness. I haven’t yet mentioned the lesbian dance scene.

Cinematographer Karl Struss shot the entire picture through red gauze filters to give it a luminous quality. Surprisingly although this is one of the most visually impressive epics ever made it wasn’t particularly expensive. Given the dismal economic climate DeMille knew he had to keep the budget down and he did. The gamble paid off, the movie was a hit and DeMille was back at the top.

The print used in the Cecil B. DeMille collection DVD set of a few years ago (which is the own I own) is excellent and it’s uncut. That’s important. Paramount butchered this movie in 1938 in order to make it acceptable under the Production Code but the DVD presents us with the completely uncut original release version in all its depraved glory. This movie is also available (uncut) on Blu-Ray from Kino Lorber.

The Sign of the Cross (1932) is pre-code Hollywood at its most decadent and outrageous. It’s a must-see movie.