Does Gladiator II precisely depict the blood and gore of Ancient Rome? From fighters driving rhinos to stay crucifixions, TV historian DAN SNOW explains what REALLY passed off within the Colosseum

It was one of the greatest spectacles in history. It was stunning in its ambition, and its cruelty. It could only happen in Rome. Even in a city famous for the scale of its exhibitions, this was jaw-dropping.

The ocean was brought into the heart of Rome. Ships rammed one another, sailors boarded the enemy’s vessels and fought with cold steel on rocking decks.

Men fell screaming into the water, dragged down by their armour. It was a sea battle, fought in a stadium. A savage fight laid on for the entertainment of the crowds.

Tens of thousands of Romans roaring, chanting, singing. War as sport. It was the ultimate expression of the power of the Caesars – the emperors who ruled from the Irish Sea to the sands of Arabia.

Only they could command the money and expertise to turn the world’s largest stadium into a seascape.

And this was not just a scene from Ridley Scott’s new Roman epic Gladiator II, but a naval battle that really did take place inside the Colosseum.

The arena that usually hosted the clash of gladiators and slaughter of convicts and wild animals was occasionally, according to some sources, flooded.

Romans flocked to see these battles, called naumachiae, that pitched fleets of ships manned by thousands of prisoners of war against one another on water dredged from the river Tiber.

It is unlikely, however, that beneath the ships, man-eating sharks criss-crossed the arena waiting for victims, as shown in Gladiator II.

But while there might not have been sharks, there were plenty of animals in the Colosseum.

In the first Gladiator film, Russell Crowe is forced to not only battle other fighters, but a number of tigers too. In the sequel, Paul Mescal faces down a rhino and raging monkeys.

It is true that men fought animals in the arena. Most fights began with a parade of exotic beasts brought from beyond the fringes of the empire to fascinate the crowds but also to show off the reach of the Roman state.

Elephants, wolves, giraffes, lions, were forced to fight each other or were unleashed on prisoners who were torn to pieces.

There are many accounts of the condemned finding ways to kill themselves in their cells to avoid this gruesome end.

The Colosseum was also the site of public executions.

You might automatically think this meant hordes of Christians being eaten by lions, but there is no evidence that they were ever executed in the Colosseum for their religious beliefs. Instead, this was where traitors, army deserters or serial offenders met their fate.

These poor souls would be cast in elaborate set pieces – real-life reimaginings of classic stories from ancient Greece.

One condemned man was forced to play the part of Icarus, who made his own wings from wax but then flew too close to the sun. In this grisly re-enactment the unfortunate chap was pushed off the top of the Colosseum. At other times animals were the victims, and were hunted by specially trained fighters called ‘bestiarii’.

No wonder that far more animals than humans died in the arena. Throughout its 450 years of use, it has been estimated that a million perished, driving some species to the brink of extinction.

But, sadly, we have absolutely no evidence for men riding rhinos into the arena in the manner seen in Scott’s new film. They are grumpy animals and untrainable.

Here, I should give full disclosure as this is not the first time I have criticised the historical accuracy of a Scott film.

The director huffed that I should ‘get a life’ when I pointed out errors in his 2023 epic Napoleon. For a start, Bonaparte did not lead cavalry charges but, like sharks in the Colosseum, it looks cool.

The great stadium, one of the most iconic symbols of Ancient Rome, often serves as the backdrop for dramatic gladiatorial combat or the site of epic historical moments – as in Scott’s original Oscar-winning Gladiator, and once again in the sequel released last week.

However, there is no evidence to suggest any Roman called it the ‘Colosseum’ – something Hollywood always gets wrong. It’s a name that was given to the building during the medieval period because of a colossal statue that stood next to it. To Romans, we think, it was the ‘Amphitheatre’.

Before its construction, First Century Rome was probably the biggest city on the planet – a million people were packed into its narrow streets. It was filled with grand temples and a ginormous stadium to host chariot races, the Circus Maximus, but something was missing – there was nowhere to host gladiator games.

In 70AD that all changed when a new Emperor, Vespasian (69-79AD), ordered the building of a huge new arena.

But not just any arena. It was going to be, well, colossal.

The ‘Amphitheatre’ took ten years to complete and was opened by Vespasian’s son and successor, the most powerful man in the known world – Titus Caesar Vespasianus. This was the man who had sacked Jerusalem, smashed the holiest of Jewish temples and crushed the revolt of the Jews.

He killed or exiled thousands and enslaved thousands more, some of whom were put to work completing his father’s masterpiece.

Capable of holding more than 65,000 people, the spectators came from all levels of Roman society, making the Colosseum the beating heart of the Empire on a games day. The atmosphere inside must have been electric. Tens of thousands of people crammed inside, all shouting and chanting.

The stadium was equipped with a giant retractable roof made up of sails that were operated by the men of the Roman navy. And there was even a kind of water-spritzing system to keep the crowd cool on roasting hot summer days.

Just like in the movies, the games here would be the ultimate spectacle. No expense pared. They were hosted by the Emperor, and the Colosseum became his podium to show off his generosity to the people. And just like in the Gladiator films, he would sit right down at the front – the best seat in the house.

In a normal year, the Colosseum might be used only ten times. But that wouldn’t do for Titus, who laid on a 100-day games spectacular.

The hotly anticipated climax of the first day was a fight between the two celebrity gladiators, Priscus and Verus.

As the shadows lengthened, the two men came together. We are told that ‘for a long time the battle was equal on each side’ and the crowd roared constantly.

Neither man would put up their finger, the signal that they yielded, or lay down their shield. On they went. Eventually Titus decided to stop the fight. You can imagine the state in which they both must have been. Bruised, cut, limping, exhausted. Titus announced that day there were two winners. Both had triumphed. He sent a wooden sword to each man – the symbol of their victory, and, more importantly, their freedom.

In the year 107, Emperor Trajan (98-117AD) hosted 123 days of games, featuring 10,000 gladiators, to celebrate his military victory in Dacia (modern-day Romania).

Gladiator fighting probably began around 260BC in a region to the south of Rome, near to modern-day Naples.

These brutal bouts were used to mark grand funerals – a kind of blood sacrifice for the dead. But by the time the Colosseum opened, gladiators were big business – and battles were held to mark high days and holidays too.

Hollywood would have you believe that gladiators were slaves, thrown into the arena to fight to the death for the entertainment of the masses, and that at the end of a day of games, corpses would be strewn across the blood-soaked arena floor.

But that is not the whole truth. In fact, the world of the gladiator was far more intricate.

It is true that the gladiators were nearly all slaves, but they were valuable ones.

They were highly trained and were well looked after. They represented a lot of investment. The fights were brutal, of course, but they were about more than gore and glory. They sought to showcase skill and bravery above efficiency of killing.

If you wanted to see that, you would have to make sure you were in your seat for those public executions or the mass slaughter of wild beasts that preceded the gladiator displays.

The idea that every fight ended in death is a fabrication. In reality, only 5 per cent of gladiator bouts did so.

As for the Emperor standing up and giving his thumbs up or down, well, there’s actually no evidence for that either.

More often than not, a gladiator fight would end in a submission rather than an execution.

For the people of Rome, this would be the equivalent of us going to watch a boxing match.

They went to cheer on their favourites, hoping for a brilliant show of physical endurance. The gladiators became some of the most famous people in Rome – and the crowd didn’t want to see their favourite fighter killed.

And occasionally, Emperors wanted to bask in that fame too.

Emperor Commodus (177-192AD), played brilliantly by Joaquin Phoenix in the original Gladiator film, actually took to the arena himself – just like in the movie – for several fights against both animals and other gladiators.

Of course, it was never a fair fight. The animals were drugged and the gladiators knew better than to try to defeat the Emperor.

Another thing that films often do get right are the trap doors on the arena floor. Beneath the Colosseum was a shadowy underworld, a space known as the ‘hypogeum’. It was a network of chambers and corridors that housed elaborate pulley and gear systems that operated lift shafts and sliding ramps. It allowed the show organisers to launch both men and beasts into the heart of the action whenever and wherever they desired.

Hollywood may not always give us a historically accurate representation of the Colosseum and the incredible games that took place inside.

But what it does do is something that only movies can.

As a historian, I can read the sources, I can visit the sites, but only movies such as Gladiator II can give us a taste of the scale, the noise, the spectacle.

Cinema gives us a sense of the intensity, the crackle of the atmosphere and brutality of those gladiator fights. And even if I have to occasionally suspend my historical disbelief, I think it’s a price worth paying.

The Colosseum: The Arena Of Death with Dan Snow is on Channel 5 on Thursday at 9pm and is available on My5 TV