Spartacus

In the last century,

before the birth of the new faith called Christianity,

which was destined to overthrow the pagan tyranny of Rome

and bring about a new society,

the Roman Republic stood at the very center of the civilized world.

"Of all things fairest," sang the poet,

"first among cities and home of the gods is golden Rome."

Yet, even at the zenith of her pride and power

the Republic lay fatally stricken with a disease

called human slavery.

The age of the dictator was at hand

waiting in the shadows for the event to bring it forth.

In that same century,

in the conquered Greek province of Thrace,

an illiterate slave woman added to her master's wealth

by giving birth to a son whom she named Spartacus.

A proud, rebellious son

who was sold to living death in the mines of Libya

before his thirteenth birthday.

There, under whip and chain and sun,

he lived out his youth and his young manhood,

dreaming the death of slavery

2,000 years before it finally would die.

Back to work!

Back to work!

Get up, Spartacus, you Thracian dog!

Come on, get up! Get up! Get...

Oh, my ankle! My ankle!

My ankle!

Guard! Guard!

Spartacus again, huh? Well, this time he dies.

Move along! Back to work, all of you!

Welcome, Lentulus Batiatus.

Welcome, indeed, my dear Captain.

Oh, 11 miles through this disastrous heat

and the cost of hiring an escort, ruinous.

Even so, I warrant you have nothing fit to sell me,

have you, Captain?

I've wasted both my time and my money.

Tell me the truth.

We have a few you might be interested in.

These? Carrion.

The buzzards are late.

This one's not bad. He's a Gaul.

Oh, I don't like Gauls. Hairy.

Can he come down unassisted?

Come down, you.

Come down!

Be good enough to show me the teeth.

Open your mouth.

Thank you.

Yes, as the teeth go, so go the bones.

This mouth is really impermissible.

The fellow's made of chalk.

We have many others.

The sun's over there.

I have to pay these people.

Who's that?

Oh, this one's a Thracian.

I'm making an example of him.

How?

Starve him to death.

Oh.

It's the only thing that impresses slaves.

Oh, what a pity.

He reacts. Good muscle tone.

Can I see his teeth?

Open your mouth, Spartacus.

You smell like a rhinoceros.

Captain, the teeth. You asked him to open his mouth.

He doesn't obey you?

His teeth are the best thing about him.

He hamstrung a guard with them

not more than an hour ago.

Marvelous. I wish I'd been here. I'll take him.

Let's look at some of the others.

Come along.

In spite of sickness and death,

we will profit 11,000 sesterces.

Including your commission, of course.

Oh, no, sir. Without my commission.

Marcellus, there they are.

They're a dirty-looking lot,

but it's the best I could find.

No one else could have made so fine a choice.

Slaves,

you have arrived at the gladiatorial school of Lentulus Batiatus.

You'll be trained by experts

to fight in pairs to the death.

You won't fight to the death here.

That will be after you've been sold

and then for ladies and gentlemen of quality,

for those who appreciate a fine kill.

A gladiator's like a stallion, he must be pampered.

You'll be oiled, bathed,

shaved, massaged, taught to use your heads.

A good body with a dull brain

is as cheap as life itself.

You'll be given your ceremonial caudas.

Marcellus, please. There.

Be proud of them.

On special occasions, those who please me

will even be given the companionship of a young lady.

Approximately half our graduates

live for five, 10, 10 years.

Some even attain freedom

and become trainers themselves.

Marcellus.

I congratulate you.

And may fortune smile on most of you.

Marcellus, watch the second from the right.

He's a Thracian.

They were going to kill him for hamstringing a guard.

We'll break him of that.

Don't overdo it. He has quality.

Next.

Next.

I like you.

I want you to be my friend.

I want to be your friend.

All I ask is that you get along with me.

What's your name, slave?

Spartacus.

I feel you don't like me.

Give him your sword.

Take it!

I have a feeling you want to kill me.

This is the only chance you'll ever get.

Kill me.

Don't be afraid, slave.

You have that sword.

I only have this piece of wood.

Are you going to disobey me?

Take his sword.

You're not as stupid as I thought.

You might even be intelligent.

That's dangerous for slaves.

You just remember,

from now on everything you do I'll be watching.

You did the right thing.

Every once in a while Marcellus likes to kill a man as an example.

I think he's picked you. Better watch him.

How long have you been here?

Six months.

I wish he'd pick me.

I want one chance at that pig before they carry me out!

Quiet! No talking down there.

Dionysius, you'll get us in trouble just like in the mines.

What's your name?

You don't want to know my name.

I don't want to know your name.

Just a friendly question.

Gladiators don't make friends.

If we're ever matched in the arena together,

I'll have to kill you.

Helena

with Galino.

Patricia,

Crixus.

Priscilla,

David.

Claudia,

Pharox.

Varinia,

Dionysius.

No, no. Spartacus.

Spartacus.

Felicia...

I've never had a woman.

You have one now, Spartacus. You must take her.

Go away.

What will she think of you?

Indeed, what will I think of you?

Go away.

Mmm. Come, come. Be generous.

We must learn to share our pleasures.

I'm not an animal!

You're not trying to escape, by any chance?

Direct your courage to the girl, Spartacus.

I'm not an animal!

I'm not an animal.

Neither am I.

What's your name?

Varinia.

You'll have to take her out of here, Marcellus.

You may not be an animal, Spartacus,

but this sorry show gives me little hope that you'll ever be a man.

First rule, you get an instant kill on the red.

Here, here.

Always remember, go for the red first.

If you don't, your opponent will.

In the blue, you get a cripple.

Here, here,

here and here.

Second rule,

go for the cripple before the slow kill.

Here's a slow kill on the yellow.

Here, here and here.

Remember,

a slow kill may have enough left in him