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8 Sep
2019

El Cid Analysis – NO PLAGIARISM

Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, born c. 1043, earned enduring fame and the title Mio Cid, from Arabic sayyid, meaning “My Lord.” Your task will be to craft an essay with a minimum of 1600 words. Your essay must satisfactorily answer each of the following questions:
Who was the historical Cid?How is the Cid portrayed in literature?How is the Cid portrayed in cinema?What are the key differences in your answers to the first three questions above? What explains these differences?Why is El Cid historically significant?Why is El Cid culturally significant?What is the difference between historical and cultural significance?Your answers must include supporting evidence from:
El Cid (1960) – the movie (1 copy on reserve in Greenwood Library) Note: It is a TWO-disc movie!The Poem of the Cid“The Purest Knight of All”Preview the document – the article by JancovichAt least TWO additional scholarly sourcesYour essay must also:
Be double spacedHave numbered pagesHave a title pageInclude a bibliographyCite evidence using either MLA or Chicago
University of Texas PressSociety for Cinema & Media Studies“The Purest Knight of All”: Nation, History, and Representation in “El Cid” (1960)Author(s): Mark JancovichSource: Cinema Journal, Vol. 40, No. 1 (Autumn, 2000), pp. 79-103Published by: University of Texas Press on behalf of the Society for Cinema & Media StudiesStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1225818 .Accessed: 07/03/2011 14:34Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR’s Terms and Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR’s Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unlessyou have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and youmay use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use.Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at .http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=texas. .Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printedpage of such transmission.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.University of Texas Press and Society for Cinema & Media Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize,preserve and extend access to Cinema Journal.http://www.jstor.org“The Purest Knight of All”: Nation, History, andRepresentation in El Cid (1960)by Mark JancovichThis article examines the Samuel Bronston production of El Cid (1960) and analyzes the process of cultural hybridization through which various myths of theSpanish national hero are stitched together and, in the process, reinterpreted toproduce an epic movie for an international market.Within academic film criticism, the historical epic has become the focus of a smallbut growing body of literature. Much of this work focuses on the function of theepic as cinematic spectacle. These films were frequently sold with the promisethat these spectacles not only represented history but themselves were historicallymomentous achievements. It was claimed that they provided sights never seenbefore or, at least, never since ancient times.Further, a number of critics have claimed that these films were part of theHollywood system’s self-promotion. Like musicals, they were spectacles that onlyHollywood could achieve and therefore established the American film industry’sprestige and power as a unique cultural institution. In other words, these films didnot simply commodify the past and reproduce a consumerist discourse aroundmaterialist spectacle; they also were vehicles for cinematic exhibitionism that enabled Hollywood to promote itself by reproducing or recreating the scale of bygone civilizations.’This preoccupation with spectacle has made for some very dull films. Therepeated complaint is that they are overly long or that the focus on spectacle almost freezes the action. The camera lingers too long on the details of the past thatthe studios have so lovingly or lavishly recreated, or the films present endlesslylong shots of crowds and pageants. Often forgotten is that other critics have complained about the focus in Hollywood cinema on narrative and have seen the focuson spectacle as a potentially subversive force that threatens to disrupt its ideological logic.2 Nonetheless, some critics have addressed the relationship between spectacle and narrative in these films. Stephen Neale, for example, compares thehistorical epic to the musical and its organization around numbers and routines.3This is not to suggest that these films lack a narrative, simply that the focus on“narrative drive” in much scholarship on film narrative may underestimate theMark Jancovich is a senior lecturer and director of the Institute of Film Studies at the University of Nottingham. He is the author of several books: Horror (1992), The Cultural Politics of the New Criticism (1993), Approaches to Popular Film (edited with Joanne Hollows,1995), and Rational Fears: American Horror in the 1950s (1996). He is currently the directorof a research project on film consumption in Nottingham, funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Board.? 2000 by the University of Texas Press, P.O. Box 7819, Austin, TX 78713-7819Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 79extent to which all film stories are built around the interrelationship between aseries of elements, from individual shots, through specific sequences, to scenesand even longer passages.4 Many epics, for example, have long sections made upof a series of scenes that operate as distinct subsections of the overall narrative.These films may at times lack the strong narrative drive that distinguishes otherHollywood products, but this may simply be because their narratives seem ratherto unfold, often because they rely on the retelling of already-familiar story lines.There is no enigma to solve in the Christ story, for instance, only a process to beconfirmed. Even in tales such as Dr. Zhivago (David Lean, 1965) or Orphans ofthe Storm (D. W Griffith, 1922), the narrative is told against a historical backdropwith which the spectator is presumed to be familiar. The emphasis in many ofthese films, therefore, is not on the drive toward resolution, which the spectatorcan probably guess, but on the process of narrative exposition.The preoccupation in historical epics with spectacle has also been related toissues of sexuality and violence, particularly as they relate to the representation ofmasculinity and the masculine body. Neale, for example, suggests that epics operate as displays of power and submission that negotiate the function of the spectacular male. The male body is supposed to be a problem in these films because itoperates as an object of both adoration and repulsion.The historical epic has received a great deal of academic interest recentlyprecisely because of its handling of the male body as an object of the gaze.5 Thedebate basically relates to the assumption that in a patriarchal culture the appropriate object of the gaze is defined as feminine and, as a result, the image of themale body always raises the problem of homoerotic desires that must be disavowedand repressed. Several strategies, it is claimed, can be used to accomplish thisprocess. First, the gaze can be deflected onto a female body so that the male bodybecomes a point of identification rather than objectification. The male body istherefore defined as merely one stage in a relay of gazes, the ultimate object ofwhich is defined as female. Second, the male body can defuse anxieties throughself-irony. This technique has been noted in research on the James Bond films6and in relation to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s star image,7 but in both cases, it isargued, humor is used to undercut the idealizations of the male body on whichthese films are based. Third, and perhaps most significantly, historical epics haverelied on sadism, in which desire for the male body is disavowed by making itsdisplay conditional on its punishment. In this way, acts of sexual display are bothpermitted and disassociated from homoeroticism in that the male body is constructed as an object of hatred rather than desire. Alternatively, objectification isnarratively defined as an unnatural state from which the heroic male body mustextricate itself.8 In short, the male hero must be positioned as a point of identification not objectification.Indeed, these depictions of the male body have often been tied to a fascisticobsession with the idealized, classical body. Indeed, the male classical body is oftenpresented as a disciplined body whose materiality and excesses have been containedby form.9 It is a body in which the head dominates, controls its bodily functions, andso permits the construction of a clear distinction between internal and external.80 Cinema Journal 40o, No. 1, Fall 2000Furthermore, this body is not only implicitly male but the feminine is everythingthat must be disavowed and excluded. In contrast to the classical male body, thefemale body is corporeal and carnal and refuses to respect distinctions betweeninternal and external. The classical male body is a body that fears femininity in particular and otherness in general and is founded on repressed homoeroticism.10This association between the historical epic and fascistic spectacle is found inAngela Dalle Vacche’s work. To some extent, this association is an inevitable resultof her specific object of analysis, the Italian historical epics made under Mussolini;however, her discussion of the features of historical epics is similar to other accounts of these films. They are described as “kitsch,” that is, defined as “fascism’spseudo-democratic answer, an anti-democratic ideology using a popular form ofaddress while simulating the authority of high art.””11 This description is similar toClement Greenberg’s description of kitsch,’2 or what Dwight Macdonald wouldcall midcult, that “peculiar hybrid bred from [high culture’s] unnatural intercoursewith [mass culture].”13 Indeed, while some critics have associated these films withconservative Cold War presentations of Communism as Otherness,’4 for many ColdWar intellectuals, these films were themselves totalitarian in nature and hencehardly different from the totalitarianism of Communism. So virulent is Macdonald’sattack on these films that he devotes a whole section of On Movies to “The BiblicalSpectacular,” a subgenre of historical epic.’5Despite the political rhetoric, many critics object to these films largely basedon taste. For both Dalle Vacche and Macdonald, it is their status as middlebrowculture that ultimately damns them. Indeed, in his study of French culture, PierreBourdieu found that these blockbusters appealed to middlebrow tastes. He makesspecial mention of the collaboration between Samuel Bronston and CharltonHeston that followed the success of El Cid (Anthony Mann, 1960), namely, 55Days at Peking (Nicholas Ray, 1963).16As Macdonald emphasizes, the cultural bourgeoisie displayed its greatest hostility to the middlebrow, exactly because the latter leads to a “blurring of the line”between high and low and therefore threatens to “absorb” them into itself.’7 Inother words, middlebrow culture poses a threat to the authority of intellectuals,albeit entirely unintentionally. Rather than attempting to deconstruct this distinction, the petite bourgeoisie, whose tastes are represented by the middlebrow, posea threat precisely because of their reverence for legitimate culture, a reverencebased on their feelings of exclusion from that culture. If the petite bourgeoisiethreaten to blur distinctions between high and low and so undermine the authorityof the cultural bourgeoisie, it is due to their desire to obtain legitimate culture. AsBourdieu puts it, “This petite bourgeoisie of consumers [is one] which means toacquire on credit, i.e., before its due time, the attributes of the legitimate life-style.”18The sense of horror with which many critics discuss the historical epic isoften a result of these films’ “pretensions,” their “misguided” notions of quality,and their reverence for a legitimate culture that they try to emulate. Indeed, inMacdonald’s discussion of Ben Hur (William Wyler, 1959), it is not the film’s lowculture status that is at issue. Quite the reverse. He recounts with dismay the“bellows of approval” with which the film was greeted by reviewers and presentsCinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 81his own analysis as a corrective.19 Indeed, these films were prestige pictures andfrequently received the industry’s highest awards.20The purpose of this article, however, is not to provide a full and detailed survey of the historical epic but rather to analyze one film, El Cid. Like many epics,El Cid was a product of a particular stage in the development of the blockbuster.Not only was it made for an international market but it was filmed in Spain anddrew on transnational resources and talent. These conditions shaped the film in anumber of ways. The first section of this article therefore examines the productioncontext of the film so as to establish the particular play of national and transnationalconcerns in its production. It should be emphasized, however, that this is not intended to be an analysis of the film’s production history. It is intended, simply, toprovide a context for the information that follows.The second section explores problems in defining national cinemas. This section takes issue with those who present El Cid as simply an American bastardizationof an “authentic” Spanish national myth; however, it does not do so to claim that thefilm is really an authentic product of Spanish culture. On the contrary, it is thesevery definitions of “authenticity” that this article seeks to question. The point is thatan authentic national essence can never be either expressed or corrupted by filmtexts, but rather, because of the relation between film and national identity, movies(and the discourses that surround them) are involved in the production of differentsenses of that identity. In other words, the question should not be whether El Cid isreally a Spanish film or not but what is at stake in such definitions and distinctions.As a result, the third section examines the ways in which the text of a historicalepic is a hybridization of different materials from different national and historicalcontexts. However, if earlier accounts of the historical epic privileged the issue ofspectacle at the expense of narrative, this and the following sections focus primarily on the narrative organization of the film. While the film concerns a narrative ofunification, in which disparate fragments come together to produce an integratedsubject-Spain, the focus here is the unification of the narrative-the process bywhich fragments of the Cid myth, from different national sources and historicalperiods, are brought together and reinterpreted in the process.Because this process is largely expressed from an American perspective, theprimary interest is how a Spanish national myth was reinterpreted within theterms of American Cold War discourses. What I have not been able to do isexamine how the film was understood within the Spanish context. An examination of the reviews, for example, would have provided a fascinating and valuablecounterperspective, even though, because of the political situation in Spain atthe time, these reviews would have been even more suspect than usual.”21 Unfortunately, as someone who lacks competence in Spanish, I am unequipped to undertake that project.The fourth section returns to the concerns discussed earlier in an attempt toprovide a more historicized view of both the representation of masculinity in ElCid and particularly the way in which its sadomasochistic dynamics were relatedto specific American uses of the Oedipal narrative during the Cold War period.22In short, this section looks at the ways in which the Cid story is reinscribed as a82 Cinema Journal 40o, No. 1, Fall 2000conflict between feudal despotism and bourgeois rights, a conflict that is itselfreinscribed as one between liberalism and totalitarianism. Despite its reading ofEl Cid as a Cold War text, this essay does not suggest that it is simply a conservative text. On the contrary, it attempts to illustrate the ways in which the film emphasizes the problems, costs, and contradictions of bourgeois masculinity, as wellas the racial politics of various Cid narratives that not only challenged Francoistversions of the Cid but also clearly articulated its support for the civil rights movement in the United States.The fifth and final section therefore examines the problem of naming and representation in the film. If the Cid becomes a figure of exemplary masculinity, it isnot through his construction as an “ego-ideal,” an image of presence, unity, andomnipotence.23 Rather, his function as an exemplary figure is presented as leadingto self-division and internal conflict. He is fraught with contradiction and self-doubt,and it is in this sense that he is presented as heroic. Without his internal struggle, hismoral integrity becomes indistinguishable from that of the conformist who unthinkingly obeys a rigid ideological code,24 the Other of American Cold War discourse. Inother words, his struggle with his internally divided nature is what distinguishes himfrom the subject of feudal despotism and modern totalitarianism.An American in Madrid. El Cid was made in Spain in 1960 by American filmproducer Samuel Bronston. Bronston had come to Spain some years earlier tomake John Paul Jones (John Farrow, 1959) and stayed to produce the biblical epic,The King of Kings (Nicholas Ray, 1961). Much debate surrounds Bronston. DerekElley clearly identifies him as one of the “two great names” that the epic has givento cinema history, Cecil B. De Mille being the other.25 Heston claims that Bronstonhad “that rarest of all things, a new idea.”26Bronston went to Spain, along with other American filmmakers, for primarilyfinancial reasons. United Artists, for example, shot Alexander the Great (RobertRossen, 1956) there as a way of spending profits that could not be exported. AsPeter Besas puts it, the logic of using Spain as a location was that “the dollars[made there] couldn’t be taken out, but a film negative that might be worth millions could.’”27 Bronston’s innovation was not his choice of Spain as a location, butrather his scheme to build a film empire there. Most significantly, he is attributedwith being the first producer to presell distribution rights for films on a territoryby-territory basis as a way of funding his projects, a scheme that became central tothe activities of later independent producers.But even Bronston’s independents were not small-scale projects. The epics heproduced were for an international market, and, as Thomas Schatz has pointedout, were all “big all-star projects, most of them shot on location.”28 Further, of thefive top-grossing movies of the 1950s, three were epics-Ben Hur, The Robe (HenryKoster, 1953), and The Ten Commandments (Cecil B. De Mille, 1956)-and twostarred Charlton Heston, who played Rodrigo Dfaz de Vivar, the Cid, in Bronston’sSuper Technirama-70 production through MGM.29Heston’s presence is not the only sign that El Cid was intended for an international market; the film also features Italian-born performers Sophia Loren andCinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 83AA NMI All a am . . . ll .. kt;; Vmn?hin IS SimAm ;TF”o ilk Rm’ Ali! oil look Wwlil mom 301 “mix1.1Z “n’. W.,……….………………….. ON Not Mgt23 ……………….. – 7 :j1.17Figure 1. Roderigo (Charlton Heston) and his beloved, Chimene (Sophia Loren),in opulent surroundings in El Cid (Anthony Mann, 1960). Loren’s presence in thecast was designed to enhance the international appeal of the production. Courtesyof Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research.Raf Vallone, French-born actress Genevieve Page, and other international players, many of whom were British. Moreover, while the majority of the film wasfilmed in Spain, Bronston created the illusion that at least some of it was filmed inItaly. The credits make this claim, and in his autobiography Heston mentions thatBronston kept offering his star a holiday in Italy. As it later transpired, the offerwas simply an attempt to get Heston on Italian soil so that it would look as if he hadbeen filming there.30 Bronston’s aim was to present the film as partly Italian so thatit would receive preferential treatment in the territory. The film even lists an alternative screenwriter for the “Italian Version,” suggesting that an alternative releasemay have been produced for the Italian market, possibly with expanded roles forthe Italian players. However, Loren was not chosen simply with the Italian marketin mind. International audiences were also familiar with her. As Heston observes,Loren was by this time not simply a star in Italy but “one of maybe half a dozenwomen who’d become honest-to-God international stars.”3′Nonetheless, the Spanish context of its production is not irrelevant to El Cid.Indeed, the choice of subject had more to do with production issues than its consumption. Bronston hoped to build his own film studio in Spain and wanted toinvolve the Spanish government in nurturing this project.”384 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000However, he did not want his scheme to appear to offer simply economic advantages. Although he knew a studio would provide jobs, attract foreign capital, andmake money, Bronston also wanted it to appear to be more than an American studioabroad. He chose the Cid as the subject for his film to ensure that it looked asthough the studio would not just be employing Spanish personnel but also handling“Spanish” subject matter. In this endeavor, Bronston was well aware that, in 1960,Franco’s Spain was beginning to emerge from the extended period of austerity thatfollowed the Civil War and that even though the economy was beginning to flourish,the government was worried about its international image.33 Bronston hoped thatthe Franco government would welcome a film about a Spanish national hero andthat, given the centrality of the tourist trade to the revival of the Spanish economy,images of the Spanish landscape would also prove attractive to those in power.a4Bronston even went so far as to set up a Spanish company, Samuel BronstonEspanola, not only to raise money in Spain but also to identify his productionsmore clearly as Spanish productions rather than simply as American productionsfilmed in Spain.Mythology, Authenticity, and National Cinema. El Cid raises a whole seriesof questions about cinema and nation. Nonetheless, most English-language bookson Spanish cinema, Peter Besas’s Behind the Spanish Lens being the notable exception,35 almost completely fail to mention Bronston’s productions.36 For example,Virginia Higginbotham’s only reference to Bronston or El Cid identifies it not as aSpanish film but as one of a series of “American super productions [that] weremade in Spain with little concern with quality or co-operation.”3′ She not onlyignores Bronston’s concern with identifying his film as Spanish and his frequentlydiscussed obsession with producing “quality” pictures, but also defines El Cid as a“cultural humiliation,” in which “Spain’s national epic poem” was bastardized byHollywood. Higginbotham even quotes Marta Hernandez, who claimed that ElCid was little more than “a medieval western.”38Higginbotham’s reference runs the gamut of definitions of national cinemaidentified by Andrew Higson,39 and, as usually happens, she slips between definitions to elide the problems and contradictions inherent in each of them. Thus, shestarts with issues of funding and finance, which then slip into issues of cooperation, given the problems of defining a film’s national origin on that basis. After all,that much of Bronston’s funding came from French investors is not normally seenas sufficient to define the films as French, and despite the fact that Japanese corporations now own several Hollywood studios, the films these studios produce arerarely identified as Japanese.Cooperation is also an imprecise term. Besas argues that Bronston tried to involve the Spanish government but that his productions were also central to thetraining of “a whole generation of Spanish film technicians, who for the first timehad an opportunity to work on a continuous basis in the style of films made in Hollywood.”40 Films are often excluded from inclusion in national cinemas because ofthe absence of government involvement but are not necessarily included simplybecause of its presence. Indeed, the question is rarely involvement or absence perCinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 85se but the “right kind” of involvement. As is often pointed out, although the StarWars, Superman, Alien, and Indiana Jones series, along with a host of other films,were made in Britain with largely British production crews, they are rarely identified as examples of British national cinema.4′Higginbotham then turns to the question of audiences to suggest that the“right kind” of involvement was lacking in El Cid. She suggests that as “a medievalwestern,” the film betrayed its Spanish subject matter and therefore did not reallyaddress a Spanish audience but an American one. However, Hollywood films wereoften more commercially successful in Spain than other films with supposedlymore authentically Spanish subject. As a result, this definition is also problematic.Higginbotham therefore finds it necessary to support her claim with the quotefrom Marta Hernandez, which introduces what Higson refers to as the “criticaldefinition” of a national cinema. It shifts the issue from one of actual audiences toa question of “quality,” so that the national cinema is identified not with popularviewing habits but with a “selective tradition” or “legitimate culture” whose composition and boundaries are defined by an authoritative elite of government, media, and academic institutions.This opposition between legitimate culture and the illegitimate “foreign” filmis policed by Higginbotham’s reference and by the suggestion that although thefilm was “based on Spain’s national epic poem,” it was a perversion of that source.Indeed, the claim that the film was based on the Poema de Mio Cid is a commonone, which even Charlton Heston repeated in his account of the film.42 However,the film uses almost nothing of the poem. It does cover the exiling of the Cid byAlfonso and the battles for Valencia, but these two elements are presented verydifferently as to both their causes and their effects. For example, the film endswith the defense of Valencia, where the Cid’s dead body leads his men into victoryagainst Ben Yussuf’s Islamic forces, but this episode is taken from a myth that wasdeveloped some centuries after the writing of the Poema.43 Furthermore, in thePoema, the battles for Valencia are merely one stage in the Cid’s rise to power, andthis epic ends not with his death but with a dispute over the dishonor done to histwo daughters by their husbands. At the close of the film, these daughters are stillyoung children. It is hardly surprising that both the poem and the film include theexile and the battles for Valencia as these are the two most commonly recountedaspects of the Cid’s mythic and historic narratives and hardly unique to the Poema.Alternatively, Richard Fletcher has seen “the overall interpretation” in the filmas, “in its main lines,” that of the distinguished Spanish historian and scholar RamonMenendez Pidal.44 Again, Heston’s autobiography lends his authority to this claim.He says he sought out the elderly historian and discussed the project with him.45However, although the film does draw on a series of incidents that Pidal attributesto the life of the Cid, the film makes important revisions and additions to Pidal’saccount, most significantly concerning the Cid’s relationship to the Islamic king ofSaragossa, Moutamin, and the film’s use of the entirely mythological ending. Themajor similarity to Pidal’s classic work, The Cid and His Spain, is that, while Fletcherdefines this “history” as an attempt to “lovingly and reverently … resurrect as muchof the legend as was consistent with what he took to be existing scholarly criticism,”4686 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000iiijiiiii;-iX: : :-: ~iii-i:i-i-i.’i-:-:-:::::-:,’i~l ?iiiii?i ::_:i:~?i-i ?-:: : ::-141 1~ ~08 lS~8181~4:::;-:::::—:_iiipX?.i:i-if ? ‘pp~ I~B~ ~PB~llp~iss~a~ii~iii ‘s:–:a:::::-:i-i: ii~:: : r–i-__: c-i:-:i :i:-::i:~~ :-:::::: ‘- ~g~gi~ii~d:::-::::j_* i:::.::… -:i-:-:- ii:: —- :: i-i-i-i-ii-i-:-i- i-:_-.:-_,_-::—:: ?:: : i i : ‘ :- i :–:-iiii-i-: -::_i~-~i:i:ii-“–i ?-:–;- sl :I-_I1 :i:-i:-:_-i Ii –-:::-:: -. _-::_i:_ :- -?:-:-:_- ::i-i-;-i:i-i?i : :i:::::-:–:-:_I:_:-:-::: i-i- :::::::::: .-.-…-. i::::::: :-:’:(::i:_:l:j_:_:::-:::::: ::::-::::–::i_::-:—–?-:i:– iiiiiiXiiir:_i:iiiiiiiiiii– i-iill-i—i-‘-ii-iiii-iiiiiiiiii-_iiiii i:::l-ii:i::’ijli ..-.. :::–:—-:: :::-::::-:::-::::-:–:-.: :::::-::::-:–‘ :::::-:: :::: ::::::::::-::? -:–::::~I: -:: :i:iii-i-i:iiii:iii:iii:i-: i-i-l-i-i:i? ::::::: ?… . ::-i:?:–::i:-:?:::ii-i:i?i,-i-i’i~’8ii -Z~iiii~ii~j~~i- ::, :s:iiil-i:i-id-iii-i~-i-i:i-i:’-i: .,- ::::::- –.. -i- ::i:i::? I:.i:::i:_:i?:-:::: _:-:j-: :1-:::::: :__ :- -::::~ -:-:: -:::i:::::~ – _:i-:i::: ‘: ?:_:::i:::s:::ii:ii:i:i:’:i8′:i:ai::ii i::::: :_:::–i::- :?i::iii:’:-:_:-:- ::i:-l–:: -::~ii: Ziii~ii:Zli:,:,,:,: :,iiii:i:i-i- :::i:i:iii:-i-iii-iiiiiii.iii-i-i-isiii’ : -: -:-:: –::-::_ ii-:i .:::: i:i i- iiiiiijiii?i?i?i:i – ::?:::::?:-‘:-:: i:i::-:-::::: _-:?:–:.:_:::I::::_ _:–:i:: :-i:-i:::_:::is:c-:-i??–i::?-:::? p::i-i-::i::?i::::-:/:::~______ :::_:::~:::::_:::: -:?-:l:l:i:i:i:::::i:-::j:::::i:,:1?:-:: ::: :: __(_._?::_ i __/_ : :::: – li-i;iii:ii–i :_:- : -:i ~:::_ii: . : : : : ._?i :~?:::::::::::::::-::: : _::::—-:–::-i:i:::-ii:::::::::::::: ::::::-L::::: ::I?-:::’:::::::::: : ::-:i-i:ii:i-_::i-j i ~-i —j ~-:i _ -i::i-ii:- :- i-iiiii -:- ::- ::: : ::-::- :::-:::::::: :::::: ::::-i:i::i:-i- : -:.- ?: ?:””‘”:’-‘~– –i–~i’: -:?:-:’:-” :. ‘:’ -: :- –:i:::::–:~-:- : — : :: — :~_:~:: :ii- :ii : – — – – . _-i?:iiiii’::: –Figure 2. The Cid (Charlton Heston) and a bearded ally on horseback in El Cid(1960). The film’s battle scenes add to the epic spectacle. Courtesy of WisconsinCenter for Film and Theater Research.the film can be said to resurrect lovingly and reverently as much of the history aswas consistent with its own interpretations of the myths.Rather than seeing the film as an accurate presentation of either the real historical character or the authentic Spanish myth, or, conversely, as an inaccuratebetrayal of either one, it is perhaps more useful to examine the ways in which thefilm negotiates its way through a series of historical and mythological narrativescentered around the figure of the Cid and attempts to construct a coherent narrative out of a reinterpretation of these elements, a reinterpretation that was alsoconditioned by its own historical period. As a result, it is important to emphasize,as Marsha Kinder does, that no national cinema is ever simply produced or defined according to features purely unique, internal, and authentic to itself but always involves “transcultural reinscription” or “the ideological reinscription ofconventions that are borrowed from other cultures and set in conflict with eachother, a process of hybridization that is capable of carving out a new aestheticlanguage.”47 To put it another way, it is perhaps less important to see El Cid aseither a Hollywood bastardization of the “authentic” Spanish myth or an authenticexample of Spanish national cinema than to examine the text as a hybrid consistingof different elements.Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 87It would be misleading to view the Cid as an exclusively Spanish myth. First,the myth started to develop before there was an actual political or cultural entitycalled “Spain,” and the Poema is concerned with the Cid as a Castilian or a Christian hero rather than as a national one. Second, the Cid myth has always beensubject to narrativization beyond the bounds of the area politically or culturallydefined as the nation “Spain” and was disseminated most widely by the Frenchdramatist Corneille, whose play Le Cid was first produced in Paris in 1637 and was“enormously influential in the history of French drama and of European theatre ingeneral.”48 Third, El Cid (from the Arabic al-Said) was a very Moorish Spaniard,just as Alexander the Great, born in Macedonia, was not fully Greek from birthand Napoleon, born in Corsica, was a very Italian Frenchman.Further, even within the confines of Spain, it is not possible to talk of the mythof the Cid but only myths of the Cid. Just as with the figures of Robin Hood andKing Arthur in Britain, the stories surrounding the Cid have changed over timeand have been the subject of intense struggle even within a particular period. As aresult, as Fletcher has pointed out, while the Franco government made much ofthe Cid as a national hero and remade him as a predecessor of Franco, with whomhe was often directly compared, and even while Pidal’s The Cid and His Spain“became and long remained a set book for cadets at Spanish military academies,”Pidal himself was persecuted by the government as a suspected dissident.49 Themeaning of the Cid was therefore never singular even during a particular periodbut was itself a source of constant conflict and renegotiation as different groupsreappropriated the myth for their own ends. In short, there was no authentic mythfor the film to degrade, only a series of myths to be reworked and reinterpreted.Fragmentation and Unification in El Cid. If, at a narrative level, El Cid isconcerned with building a coherent narrative out of a series of fragments, thenarrative that it constructs is concerned with similar processes. The film, unlikethe epic poem, is concerned with the Cid as a national, not a Castilian, hero whoworks for the good of “all Spain.” But while he acts in the name of Spain, thisnation is presented as an entity that is as much a product of his act of naming it asit is an entity that preexists that act of naming. As the film makes clear, the “Spain”that exists prior to Rodrigo’s intervention is a “war-torn and unhappy land: halfChristian and half Moor.” It is not a nation in either political or cultural terms buta series of small warring kingdoms that are divided by differences of politics, culture, and religion. However, as the contextualizing opening speech goes on to claim,the Cid was a figure of unity who rose above “religious hatreds” and so enableddifferent political, religious, and racial groups to come together in opposition to acommon enemy: the Almoravide invaders, an Islamic force from Morocco. In thisway, the film takes as its central narrative the forging of a sense of collective purpose in relation to an external other in a manner that is clearly developed as ananalogy for the Cold War.This process is more complex than it might at first appear and involves a majortransformation in myths of the Cid, even contemporary versions associated withthe Franco government. Immediately after the opening speech, even before88 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000: :::: :: i• i _iiii.ii l :iiiii iiiiiiiii~i~i:i~iiiiiiiiiiii•!!i!•i!i~i•!i~iiiii~!iii~….iiiiiiil:: ‘• •: ‘• ‘I??I?? I • ! ! •iiiiiiiiiiii….iiiiii~: ::::i :i ~ ‘?i ?li “:::iiiiiiiii~~i i !• iiii •i:i :iiiiii i ~i’ •….;!iiiiiii:~•::•’•iii’i•:ii•:i?:•:i: •i … ?!:! •i :i ! •ii::::— iiiiiil:iiiiiiiii:.: – i : : : :r~ iiFigure 3. The mythic hero the Cid, depicted in a low-angle shot on an armoredhorse. The Franco government valorized the Cid as a national icon and remadehim as a predecessor of Franco. Courtesy of Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research.Rodrigo is introduced, the film introduces Ben Yussuf, the leader of the Almoravideinvaders. Ben Yussuf castigates the various Moorish kings of Spain, whom he hasgathered before him in preparation for his invasion, and accuses them of weakness-of producing poets and scientists, rather than warriors. Then, in a mannerCinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 89that clearly evokes the domino theory of Russian expansion that was so prevalentin the period, Yussuf asserts that the prophet has ordered them to rule the worldand declares that they will first sweep across Spain, then Europe, and finally theworld. This association with the Cold War is reinforced shortly afterward whenMoutamin tells Rodrigo of his fears for the future. He evokes the imagery andanxieties surrounding nuclear warfare in the period: what is coming is “war, death,and destruction: blood and fire more terrible than has been seen by living man.”However, Islam is not simply posed against Christianity but rather liberalismis pitted against totalitarianism. Indeed, completely recasting Rodrigo’s story, forwhich I can find no historical precedent, he is cast as a liberal warrior whose fightfor Spain is clearly defined as a battle for religious and racial tolerance.This is made clear in the very next sequence, in which Rodrigo as a characteris introduced. He has been interrupted on his way to marry his love, Chimene(Sophia Loren), and has been forced to do battle with some Moorish raiders. Hehas been victorious in battle, and he returns to his father’s estate with two Moorishkings as prisoners. He is met by both his father and his later rival, Count Ordonez,an emissary from the king who orders Rodrigo to hand over his prisoners for execution. Rodrigo refuses and decides that mercy rather than execution may be abetter way of dealing with the Moors. He has his prisoners swear not to attack thelands of King Ferdinand of Castile, then releases them, an act that earns Rodrigothe eternal friendship of one king, Moutamin of Saragossa; the name of the Cidthat Moutamin bestows upon him; and an accusation of treason against the crown.This sequence sets the scene for the story that occupies most of the first halfof the film, in which Rodrigo kills Chim6ne’s father to defend his family honorand thus alienates the woman whom he loves. This story does not appear in either the histories or the epic poem but rather is a feature of Corneille’s play,which was itself derived from Spanish ballads from around the sixteenth century,which were themselves based on the Mocedades de Rodrigo, which was composed sometime about 1300.The significance of the conflict and its motivations are completely different inthe play and the film. In Corneille’s play, for example, Rodrigo’s father, Don Diego, clashes with Chim6ne’s father, Don Gormaz, over an honor bestowed uponthe former by the king, and Rodrigo is drawn into a foolish squabble between thearrogant and boastful Don Gormaz and the doddering and ineffectual Don Diego.In the film, Rodrigo “asks nothing for himself’ in his conflict with Don Gormazand is still motivated by a desire to defend his father’s honor. However, the roleplayed by his father is fundamentally different. As played by Michael Horden,Don Diego is a wise liberal who trusts his son’s moral integrity (“Rodrigo knowswhat he must do,” he informs Don Ordonez) and defends his son’s decision torelease the Moorish kings as an act of moral conviction rather than treason.Thus, the central conflict in the film is not between Christianity and Islam butbetween tolerance and intolerance-between acceptance of difference and desireto impose conformity and obedience on others. In the film, Rodrigo finds Moutamina far more trustworthy ally than any other Christian, and they later declare thatboth sides “have so much to give to each other and to Spain.” Leon Hunt has90 Cinema Journanl 40, No. 1, Fall 2000rightly commented on the way in which the masculinity embodied by the Cid ispresented not as known and familiar but as distinctly exceptional, mysterious, andeven uncanny. He has also noted the frequency with which the Cid is asked, usually by Alfonso, “What kind of a man are you?”50 Moutamin is the only figure whois able to comprehend and understand the Cid and is even able to name him:“Among our people we have a word for a warrior with the vision to be just and thecourage to be merciful. We call such a man El Cid.”The film undermines the central aspect of the Francoist version of the Cidlegend, that Rodrigo is an unambiguous crusader against Islam. Indeed, Francoclearly identified himself with the reconquest of Spain or the expulsion of theMoors and likened this struggle to his own war against the forces of “anti-Spain,”which he identified as socialism, Communism, and anti-Catholicism. What is more,by presenting Spain as a country created out of an alliance between Moor andChristian rather than out of a conflict between them (even though both foughtagainst a common Islamic enemy), the film also contested the Francoist emphasison the Spanish as a unique race and a people who were preoccupied with mattersof racial purity. These issues were made clear from the title of a prominent Spanish film based on a novel by Franco himself, Raza, or Race.The contradiction is that in defending tolerance, the film not only presents itsown image of otherness-of that which cannot be tolerated (intolerance)-but alsoassociates tolerance with Christian symbolism. However, not just the Islamic tyrantBen Yussuf threatens Spain with his intolerance. Alfonso, the Christian king ofCastile, also is defeated by Ben Yussuf later in the film because he refuses to makealliances with Moslems: “We are a Christian kingdom; we deal only with Christians.”The freeing of the Moorish kings and the conflict with Chim6ne’s father alsoraises another theme: the Cid as a figure of moral integrity who is driven to do theright thing despite the problems it causes him, most significantly in his relationship with King Alfonso. Notably, once Rodrigo has killed Chim6ne’s father, thefilm moves on to the conflict between Sancho and Alfonso, the sons of the Castillianking, Ferdinand. On his death, Ferdinand divides the kingdom between his sons,but they are unhappy with this arrangement and go to war with each other in anattempt to gain possession of the whole kingdom. In actuality, Ferdinand had threesons and two daughters, not, as in the film, two sons and one daughter.In the poems, as in history, Rodrigo supported Sancho; in the film, he is abovethe conflict. When Sancho sentences Alfonso to imprisonment, the Cid rescuesAlfonso and claims that Sancho is acting against “God’s law.” But when Alfonsoasks the Cid to take his side, Rodrigo claims that he cannot side with either brotherwithout losing faith with the other. He sees the dispute as divisive and thereforedangerous, and he calls for reconciliation instead.As in both history and legend, Sancho is murdered, thus allowing Alfonso toassume the position of king of Leon and Castile. At this point, the film does utilizePidal’s history by accepting a story found in the ballads in which the Cid forcesAlfonso to swear that he had no part in his brother’s killing. However, the story alsosuggests that it was this act of defiance that alienated him from the king and broughtabout his exile.Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 91Fletcher considers the story of the oath to be “fantastic,” and even in Pidal’saccount, it is not the cause of the Cid’s exile.51 More usually it is attributed topolitical wrangles within Alfonso’s court in which courtiers such as Don Ordonezwere supposed to have poisoned the king against Rodrigo, who was accused ofwithholding tribute from the king. In the film, the Cid is exiled for insisting thatAlfonso give his oath, and the struggle is converted from one of political intrigue toyet another presentation of the Cid as a figure of moral integrity who stands up toan immoral, willful, and despotic monarch. Rodrigo insists on the oath because, heclaims, without it Alfonso’s kingdom will be fragmented by doubt and suspicion.Rodrigo is therefore once again shown to be the force for cohesion against thedangerously divisive power of a king who rules tyrannically rather than by asserting moral leadership.The moral courage the Cid displays is also seen as repairing the rift betweenhimself and Chim6ne, who follows him into exile. Her faith is further confirmedwhen she watches him tend to and bless a leper who identifies himself as Lazarus.This scene not only presents the Cid as an almost Christlike figure of purity, charity, and self-sacrifice, a recurring motif in the film, it also draws on the ballads inwhich Rodrigo encounters a leper who is revealed to be St Lazarus.The reconciliation with Chimene is presented as a brief moment of peace when,finally, through the loss of their previous duties, they are able to consummate theirlove for one another. However, this moment is almost immediately interrupted. AsChim6ne and Rodrigo dream of finding a “hidden place” where they can live together in peace, tranquility, and anonymity, Rodrigo’s men are gathering outside. IfAlfonso is unable to establish himself as a moral leader, Rodrigo does. If, however,they are willing to fightfor the Cid, the Cid invokes a higher cause: “Spain.”Historians generally agree that the Cid’s years in exile were spent mostly as amercenary in the service of Moutamin of Saragossa, who was his employer, not hislifelong friend. The film conveniently skips over this period in Rodrigo’s life andwhen it resumes, the movie suggests that Rodrigo spent the intervening years campaigning against the Moroccan invaders, allied with non-Christian kings.Monarch and Subject: Oedipal Tensions and Cold War Discourse. Thesecond half of the film openswith the Cid arriving with these non-Christian kingsat the Catalan court, to which he has been recalled by Alfonso, who wants Rodrigoto join him in a battle against Ben Yussuf to take place at Sagrajas. This sequenceoperates on several levels. It is at this moment that Alfonso displays his bigotry andintolerance toward the non-Christian kings, but it is also the point when the function of Valencia changes within the narratives of the Cid, hence altering the Cid’smotivation to conquer it. In the poems and other accounts, the battle for Valenciais about either power and wealth or the expansion of Christianity. In the film, thebattle is of strategic significance in the war against Ben Yussuf, and it becomes theequivalent of Thermopylae in 300 Spartans,52 a site that must be taken and held atany cost so as to prevent Ben Yussuf from landing his armada and overrunning thewhole of Spain. In fact, the Cid turned to Valencia only after he had both reconciled with the king and once again fallen out of favor after failing to rendezvous92 Cinema Journal n40, No. 1, Fall 2000with Alfonso prior to another battle (this misdeed seems to have been a mistakerather than a principled stand).Fletcher convincingly argues that not only was the battle for Valencia foughtfor wealth and power, rather than as a strategic move against the Almoravide invasion, but that it resulted in a territorial conflict with Alfonso. In the film, the Cidtakes Valencia in Alfonso’s name, even though the king has imprisoned Alfonso’swife and daughters and threatened to kill them. This story comes primarily fromPidal’s history, although the claim that the Cid captured Valencia for Alfonso is ina range of texts, including the Poema. Unfortunately, as Fletcher has shown, notonly did the Cid seem to have approved references in which he was described asthe prince of Valencia, but he also fought Alfonso and his allies in order to keephold of his title.53The film ends with the siege of Valencia and Alfonso’s final conversion, whenhe receives the crown of Valencia from the Cid and is humbled by the Cid’s faithfulness. Throughout the film, Alfonso is played much as Pidal described him, as aspoiled and decadent monarch, but the film adds that he is virtually a troubledteenager. Again and again, he is shown trying to prove his manhood, and, as aresult, his relationship to the Cid is presented as one of Oedipal tension. To Alfonso,the Cid is an ideal of masculinity that Alfonso cannot comprehend and againstwhich he feels inadequate. In response, Alfonso develops a hatred for the Cid,which he uses sadistically to assert his legal authority and superiority in an attemptto undermine Rodrigo. This is borne out by the fact that the Cid challenges Alfonso’s“childish” desires for omnipotence. In this way, the relationship between the meninvolves the classic sadomasochistic dynamics of the epic in which men often slipbetween identification (the will to be like the other), desire (the will to possess theother and/or to be possessed by him), and hatred (the will to distance oneself fromthe other through his degradation or destruction).However, the film also reinterprets this conflict. The Poema, for example, hasbeen read as a complex meditation on the reciprocal duties of lord and vassal, butin the film the conflict is instead presented as between despotism and the moralbourgeois individual. Again and again, the Cid’s conflict develops out of his refusalto surrender his own moral integrity and judgment to the dictates of the monarch,a theme that was highly popular in historical dramas of the period. Indeed, whileHeston was shooting the Valencia sections of the film, Lawrence Olivier phonedto ask Heston if he would appear on stage with him in Beckett. This play focuseson a similarly defined conflict between Henry II and the “troublesome priest,”Thomas a Becket, and became the basis for a film starring Richard Burton andPeter O’Toole, released a few years after El Cid, in 1964. However, El Cid wasmade in the same year as another play based on this theme, Robert Bolt’s A Manfor All Seasons. The play, which centers on the refusal of Thomas More to surrender his moral integrity and judgment to the will of King Henry VIII, is one that haspractically obsessed Heston. As the actor himself admitted: “Robert Bolt’s exploration of the heroic resistance and tragic fall of Thomas More was the best play I’dseen in years. Now, thirty years later, I’ve done the play five times and filmed itonce; I still don’t know any play written in the period that’s as good.”54Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 93The significance of this narrative in the period is perhaps best clarified througha comparison with yet another play, Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. Miller’s play isusually read as a critique of McCarthyism and the anti-Communist witch-hunts ofthe 1950s, but it developed this critique through the opposition between liberalism and totalitarianism-individual moral autonomy and collective conformitywhich was so much a part of the rhetoric of the political left, right, and center inthe Cold War period.Beckett, El Cid, and A Man for All Seasons (Fred Zinnemann, 1966) all repeatthis central conflict but shift the threat from the conformist collective in Miller’splay to that of the feudal despot. Both narratives associate the threat with a historical past from which bourgeois democracy is presented as a break and, in the process, present contemporary totalitarianism not as a product of modernity, but asthe resurrection of archaic and outmoded forms to which bourgeois democracynot only offers a solution but is inherently superior. Hence, the Oedipal narrativeis not the product of an ahistorical patriarchal unconscious but a product of ColdWar discourses that, although not exclusively American, did enable America tocast itself in the central role.55 In the context of the Cold War, America was oftenpresented as an ideal, even universal, subject whose national origins and identitywere formed through a rejection of the feudal and despotic rule of the Britishcrown. This presentation also cast the Soviet Union as an archaic and moribundhangover of an earlier stage of development.56 As a result, America was able to castitself much like the film’s version of the Cid, as a universal subject able to unify thewarring and divided peoples of the world and so contain a common enemy.The use of these rhetorics and discourses should not, however, be taken toimply that El Cid was innately conservative. It should be remembered that the political left, right, and center used these discourses to different ends. Indeed, as hasalready been argued, the cause of liberalism is carefully constructed in the film as acall for racial equality at a time when civil rights was not yet fashionable in whiteAmerica. Bronston picked up this cause even more forcefully and directly in hiscollaboration with director Anthony Mann on The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964).In El Cid, the hero does not displace the despotic monarch or even win amoral victory over him, as does Spartacus in the film of the same name. Instead,he succeeds in reforming the monarch. But, although the Cid refuses to surrenderhis moral integrity or judgment to the monarch, he is nonetheless a faithful defender of the crown and always acts in his best interests, even if he acts againstAlfonso’s wishes. As a result, when the Cid finally refuses to accept the crown ofValencia for himself and instead has it presented to Alfonso, Alfonso finds that hehas run out of options. He realizes that he will never prove himself superior to theCid by trying to degrade and destroy him. He will only succeed in further confirming the Cid’s moral superiority. Alfonso decides to “make [him]self a king” by emulating the Cid and travels to Valencia to humble himself before his hero and declarehis support for him. But the Cid will have none of this-“My King kneels beforeno man!” he states emphatically–and, at any rate, the Cid is also dying. Alfonso istherefore positioned as the Cid’s successor. Despotism is associated with immaturity57 or even juvenile delinquency and Alfonso is presented as a despot who has94 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000finally grown up and achieved manhood. As the Cid puts it, “It is not easy for aman to conquer himself. You have done that.” Rodrigo clearly presents Alfonso’sconversion as an Oedipal rite of passage: “I have not failed; Spain has a king!”Naming, Representation, and the Contradictions of Masculinity. Alfonsobecomes not only both an adult and a “good” king but also the king of Spain. Assuch, he replaces the Cid as the representative of national unity. This presentsdistinct problems for the film, however, which it never quite manages to reconcile.If the Cid became the figure of unity who brought various political, religious, andracial groups together and so created a unity in difference, in making Alfonso theking of Spain, the movie changes the nature of that unity and implicitly displacesthe non-Christian kings who have declared allegiance to the Cid. As Moutaminalmost prophetically says earlier in the film when he tries to persuade Rodrigo todeclare himself the ruler of Valencia, “We have given up everything for you; weimplore you to take the crown.” By the end of the film, Alfonso may have becomea good king, but by naming him the king, the Cid has implicitly shifted the termsof Spanish unity. No longer is the emphasis on unity in difference but on the dominance of the Castillian state.As Alfonso leads his troops into battle the following morning with the deadbody of the Cid by his side, he alters the Cid’s cry of “for God, Alfonso, and Spain”to “for God, the Cid, and Spain.” As a result, while, at one level, the film seems tobe an Oedipal rite of passage for Alfonso with the Cid as a representative fatherfigure, on another level it tells of the Cid’s Oedipal rite of passage in which Alfonsofinally validates and endorses the Cid’s actions as representative of a father figure.Alfonso’s last words to Chim ne are “I want you and my children to remember meriding with my King … tomorrow.” Of course, he knows that tomorrow he will bedead, although he may attain mythic status in the process.Indeed, the ending of the film directly addresses the process of mythologization,in which the Cid rides “out of history and into legend.” In so doing, it focuses onone of the central tensions in the film, the problem of naming and representation whereby the living Rodrigo becomes the mythic hero, the Cid, and thewarring and divided series of kingdoms become a nation, Spain. Talking of thefilm later in life, director Anthony Mann emphasized the significance and centrality of this ending: “I started with the final scene. This lifeless knight who isstrapped into the saddle of his horse … It’s an inspirational scene. The filmflowed from this source.””58Leon Hunt also comments upon the significance of this scene and the ways inwhich the conversion of Rodrigo into the Cid “is only made possible by the deathof the human subject.”59 Thus, while Rodrigo is presented as a figure of moralintegrity, he is also presented as split or divided, unable to resolve the conflictbetween his public responsibilities and his private desires. From the start, his needto defend his “name” forces him to kill Don Gormaz and so destroys his hope ofdomestic happiness, a theme that is repeated as different public responsibilitiesconspire to separate him from the love for which he yearns. After killing DonGormaz, Rodrigo even acknowledges the shape of his future dilemmas when heCinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 95and Chimene admit their inability to “kill” their desires for one another, even whenthese desires contradictheir public duties:RODRIGO: I told my love that it had no right to live. But my love won’t die.CHIMENE: Kill it!RODRIGO: You kill it: tell me that you don’t love me.CHIMENE: I cannot-not yet. But I will make myself worthy of you, Rodrigo: I willlearn to hate you.Later, when Rodrigo and Chimene are reconciled, other duties and responsibilities intrude and they fantasize a “hidden place” where they will be anonymouswithout names-able to live in peace and tranquility together. But this can only bea fantasy, as Chimene points out, for there can be no place where they will also beable to hide from themselves.This contradiction reaches crisis point during the siege on Valencia when theCid receives word that Alfonso has captured Chim ne and the children. This newsplaces him in an intolerable position. If the Cid continues to fight to defend Spainand takes Valencia, he endangers his family, but if he marches on Alfonso, he leavesSpain vulnerable to invasion. Caught in an impossible dilemma, the film presentshim riding around and around in circles, asking repeatedly, “May I not sometimesthink of my wife and children? What must I do?” If this sequence casts him in atraditional patriarchal role in relation to both the public and the private spheres, italso reveals the painful and destructive contradictions of this division for its masculine subjects. The film is able to resolve this dilemma only through external intervention: Don Ordonez decides to rescue Chim6ne himself and joins with the Cid.However, Rodrigo is not just required to live up to the name of the Cid. He isfrequently split by the act of standing in for or representing other names. Again andagain, he acts “for his father,” “for Spain,” “for Alfonso,” or “for God.” He is therefore not permitted to be “himself’ (whatever that might be) but is frequently presentin place of an absent other, frequently a nonexistent entity that he hopes to construct through representation: the act of naming and embodying. For example, thenames of both Spain and Alfonso that Rodrigo invokes are ideals, the first having noconcrete existence but simply being something to be named and constructed, thesecond, having no relation to the living person of the king but simply being a position that Rodrigo hopes to construct by standing in place of that which is absent,embodying its values, and hence providing an example in the process.Rodrigo even has to literally stand in for God. Not only is he frequently identified as God’s representative-“God sent you to us,” he is told by a priest near thebeginning of the film-but after Don Ordonez allies himself with the Cid and iscaptured by Ben Yussuf, he claims that the Cid is “not like other men” and that hewill therefore “never die.” Ben Yussuf, of course, sees the significance of this claimand asks, “You dare to think of him the way we think of the prophet …. Then thiswill be more than a battle; it will be our God against yours.” Through Ben Yussuf’scomparison with the prophet Muhammad, the Cid is therefore presented not onlyas God’s representative on earth but, more literally, as Jesus Christ himself. Heeven has to go through the act of dying and resurrection to achieve his mission.96 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000If, earlier, the Cid had been a unifying factor through the example of his ownmoral integrity, by the end only his physical presence as an image is necessary.Wounded by an arrow (much like the statue of Jesus that he saves at the openingof the film and even straps to a horse), he knows that he must lead his men intobattle the next morning if he is to defeat Ben Yussuf and that only his physicalpresence as an image will bring his men together and inspire them to victory. However, his wound makes him unable to perform this role as a living being and hedecides to give up his life so that the image of his corpse can fulfill this function.Furthermore, the image of his dead body not only inspires his men to victory butalso almost single-handedly destroys the opposition by inspiring fear in them. Thevery presence of his physical image routs the Almoravide forces and reduces BenYussuf to immobility as his fanaticism is converted into disbelief and his inert bodyis literally trampled to death under the hooves of the Cid’s advancing forces.The Cid’s divided nature is essential to his function as a hero. While it is common to see male heroes as “ego ideals” who exist as images of presence, unity, andomnipotence,60 the Cid, like many male heroes, is heroic exactly because of thestruggle that he embodies. Without the sense of contradiction, agony, and selfdoubt, the male subject becomes not a heroic agent but a mindless robotic functionary, the conformist zombie whom the bourgeois democratic imagination,particularly in the period of the Cold War, identified as the subject of feudal despotism and modern totalitarianism.As such, El Cid can be seen both as a product of Cold War discourses and asdemonstrating the complexities and contradictions of these discourses. The filmultimately offers both a heroic image of nationalism and democratic masculinityand emphasizes the contradictions and costs on which they depend.Conclusion. This article has tried to demonstrate that El Cid is the product ofhybridization in which different cultural materials, from different national contexts, have been integrated with one another and transformed in the process. Thisis particularly clear because of El Cid’s specific conditions of production, but it is,arguably, also true of all cultural texts. No text is ever simply the product of anauthentic, coherent, and unique national culture. On the contrary, films are partof the process through which struggles over the definition of national cultures arefought. In other words, the inclusion or exclusion of certain films with respect tospecific definitions of national cinema tells us more about the power relationswithin which these definitions operate than they do about some inherent featureof these films’ production, their formal features, or their consumption. Furthermore, as we have also seen, texts are also involved in the production of certainnotions of nationhood. El Cid not only tells a story of the formation of a nation butit also constructs that history in specific ways. It presents a teleological history ofnationhood in which liberal democracies, and specific constructions of masculinesubjectivity associated with them, are privileged over other alternatives. This isnot to say that the film is inherently conservative. Liberal democracy is not a monolith object but is itself a site of struggle between violently opposed groups. If thefilm does privilege liberal constructions of politics and masculinity, this does notCinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 97mean that it is uncritical of alternative appropriations of liberalism or is unawareof the contradictions and costs of liberalism as an ideology.NotesThe author wishes to thank Dorinda Hartmann, one of Cinema Journal’s fine photo editors, for locating and selecting the illustrations that accompany this essay.1. See, for example, Angela Dalle Vacche, The Body in the Mirror: Shapes of History inItalian Cinema (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1992); Sumiko Higashi,“Antimodernism as Historical Representation in a Consumer Culture: Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, 1923, 1956, 1993,” in Vivian Sobchack, ed., The Persistence of History: Cinema, Television, and the Modemrn Event (New York: Routledge,1996), 91-125; Alan Nadel, “God’s Law and the Widescreen: The Ten Commandmentsas Cold War ‘Epic,’” in Containment Culture: American Narratives, Postmodernism,and the Atomic Age (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1995), 90-116; StephenNeale, Genre (London: British Film Institute, 1980); Vivian Sobchack, “‘Surge andSplendor’: A Phenomenology of the Hollywood Historical Epic,” in Barry K. Grant,ed., The Film Genre Reader II (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995); Michael Wood,America in the Movies, or “Santa Maria, It Had Slipped My Mind” (London: Seckerand Warburg, 1975); and Maria Wyke, Projecting the Past: Ancient Rome, Cinema,and History (London: Routledge, 1997).2. Much of this work draws on ideas developed by Laura Mulvey in her classic article“Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” in Bill Nichols, ed., Movies and Methods, vol.2 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 303-15.3. Neale, Genre.4. These ideas draw upon David Bordwell’s work in Narration and the Fiction Film (London: Routledge, 1988).5. See, for example, Steve Cohan, Masked Men: Masculinity and the Movies in the Fifties(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998); Ina Rae Hark, “Animals or Romans:Looking at Masculinity in Spartacus,” in Steve Cohan and Ina Rae Hark, eds., Screening the Male: Exploring Masculinities in Hollywood Cinema (London Routledge, 1992),151-72; Leon Hunt, “‘What Are Big Boys Made Of?’: Spartacus, El Cid, and the MaleEpic,” in Pat Kirkham and Janet Tumin, eds., Me Tarzan: Men, Movies, and Masculinity (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1993); 65-83; Mark Jancovich, “‘Charlton HestonIs an Axiom’: Spectacle and Performance in the Development of the Blockbuster,” inAndy Willis, ed., Film Stars: Hollywood and Beyond (Manchester, U.K.: ManchesterUniversity Press, forthcoming); and Yvonne Tasker, Spectacular Bodies: Genre, Gender, and the Action Cinema, (London: Routledge, 1992).6. Tony Bennett and Janet Woolacott, Bond and Beyond: The Political Career of a Popular Hero (London: Macmillan, 1987).7. Tasker, Spectacular Bodies.8. See, for example, Hark, “Animals or Romans.”9. Lynda Nead, The Female Nude: Art, Obscenity, and Sexuality (London: Routledge,1992), and Peter Stallybrass and Allon White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression(London: Methuen, 1986).10. This kind of analysis often draws on Klaus Theweleit, Male Fantasies, vol. 1, Women,Floods, Bodies, History (Cambridge: Polity, 1987), and Male Fantasies, vol. 2, MaleBodies (Cambridge: Polity, 1988). It has been more clearly developed in relation tocontemporary spectacles of the male body on film. See, for example, Claudia Springer,98 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000Electronic Eros: Bodies and Desire in the Postindustrial Age (Austin: University ofTexas Press, 1996), and Susan Jeffords, Hard Bodies: Hollywood Masculinity in theReagan Era (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1994).11. Dalle Vacche, The Body in the Mirror, 24.12. Clement Greenberg, “Avant-Garde and Kitsche,” in Bernard Rosenberg and DavidManning White, eds., Mass Culture: The Popular Arts in America (New York: FreePress, 1957).13. Dwight Macdonald, “Masscult and Midcult,” in Against the American Grain (London:Victor Gollanczs, 1963), 37.14. Although they are very different, see Peter Biskind, Seeing Is Believing: How Hollywood Taught Us to Stop Worrying and Love the Fifties (London: Pluto, 1983); Cohan,Masked Men; and Nadel, Containment Culture.15. Dwight Macdonald, Dwight Macdonald on Movies (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: PrenticeHall, 1969).16. Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste (London:Routledge, 1984), 271.17. Macdonald, “Masscult and Midcult,” 54.18. Bourdieu, Distinction, 365.19. Macdonald, Dwight Macdonald on Movies, 424.20. As Bruce Babbington and Peter Evans argue, “We should not forget-leaving asidethe genre’s many nominations in most fields-that Ben Hur and Spartacus won BestPicture Awards, that Charlton Heston and Hugh Griffith gained acting awards fortheir roles in Ben Hur and Spartacus and Peter Ustinov for his in Quo Vadis, and thatWyler was given Best Director award for Ben Hur.” Babbington and Evans, BiblicalEpics: Sacred Narrative in Hollywood Cinema (Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press, 1993), 7.21. For a discussion of the problematic status of published materials on reception, see MarkJancovich, “Genre and the Audience: Genre Classifications and Cultural Distinctions inthe Mediation of The Silence of the Lambs,” in Melvyn Stokes and Richard Maltby, eds.,Hollywood and Cultural Identity (London: British Film Institute, forthcoming).22. This concern with Oedipal narratives in the Cold War period does not necessarilyassume that these narratives are a fundamental structure of all patriarchal societies.On the contrary, as Robert J. Corber has emphasized, one of the problems with manyforms of psychoanalytic film theory is that they were developed in relation to films ofthe Cold War epoch, when psychoanalysis was being put to specific ideological uses.Corber, In the Name of National Security: Hitchcock, Homophobia, and the PoliticalConstruction of Gender in Postwar America (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press,1993). In other words, this article is more concerned with the functioning of Oedipalnarratives in American culture during a specific era than with reproducing the assumption that Oedipal narratives are a metadiscourse that can be used to make allfilms intelligible. See my critique of Screen theory in Joanne Hollows and MarkJancovich, eds., Approaches to Popular Film (Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press, 1995).It is particularly interesting in this regard to consider Marsha Kinder’s work on theSpanish Oedipal narrative. See her Blood Cinema: The Reconstruction of National Identity in Spain (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993). While she accepts that“the Oedipal drama” is “reenacted in every generation because it is the primary meansof transforming the small animal into a human gendered subject,” she emphasizes theneed to pay attention to “its distinctive cultural reinscription” within the context ofCinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 99Spanish culture (197). Indeed, her claims may explain elements of the film that aremarginalized by my account and that might lead us to conclude that the film had asubstantially different resonance in Spanish culture.Kinder notes, for example, that the father is often absent or idealized and that thepatriarchal mother comes to function as both the figure of repression and the target ofthe children’s hostility. She also notes that patricide, if attempted, “is usually performedby the daughter” rather than by the son (198). It is therefore interesting that, in El Cid,Alfonso’s Oedipal problems are rooted in his probably incestuous relationship with hissister, Uracca. Furthermore, she is presented as a sadist who not only controls herbrother but clearly desires the Cid and wants to destroy him because this desire is unrequited. In this way, she operates both as the patricidal daughter and as the repressivematerial figure that takes the father’s place in the Spanish Oedipal narrative. Theseelements might suggest that the film bears the trace of its multiple cultural contexts andthat elements in the film might have very different meanings in the Spanish context.As I have argued elsewhere, we need to be aware that not only does any reading ofa text at best only identify certain preferred meanings, but also that the meanings oftexts as specific historically produced utterances exceed these particular readings andare subject to continual reinterpretation as these texts pass into new historical andcultural contexts. See, for example, Mark Jancovich, “David Morley, The NationwideStudies,” in Martin Barker and Anne Beezer, eds., Reading into Cultural Studies (London: Routledge, 1992), 134-47; Mark Jancovich, Horror (London: Batsford, 1992);Mark Jancovich, The Cultural Politics of the New Criticism (London: Cambridge University Press, 1993); Hollows and Jancovich, Approaches to Popular Film; and Jancovich,“Genre and the Audience.”23. See, for example, Mulvey, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” and Stephen Neale,“Masculinity as Spectacle,” in Cohan and Hark, Screening the Male, 9-20.24. As I have argued elsewhere, however, this Other was as internal as it was external. See,for example, Mark Jancovich, Rational Fears: American Horror in the 1950s (Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press, 1996), and “Othering Conformity in Post-WarAmerica: Intellectuals, the New Middle Classes, and the Problem of Cultural Distinctions,” in Nathan Abrams and Julie Hughes, eds., Containing America (Birmingham,U.K.: Birmingham University Press, forthcoming).See also Daniel Bell, The End of Ideology: On the Exhaustion of Political Ideas in theFifties (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988); Daniel Bell, ed., The New American Right (New York: Criterion, 1955); Daniel Boorstin, The Image: Or What Happenedto the American Dream (Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1962); Betty Friedan, TheFeminine Mystique (New York: Dell, 1964); John Kenneth Galbraith, The Affluent Society (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1958); Paul Goodman, Growing Up Absurd: Problemsof Youth in the Organized Society (New York: Vintage, 1956); Greenberg, “Avant-Gardeand Kitsche”; Michael Harrington, The Other America (New York: Macmillan, 1962);Richard Hofstadter, Anti-Intellectualism in American Life (New York: Vintage, 1962);Dwight Macdonald, Against the American Grain; Norman Mailer, “The White Negro,”in Advertisements for Myself (London: Andre Deutsch, 1959), 281-302; C Wright Mills,White Collar: The American Middle Class (New York: Oxford University Press, 1951); C.Wright Mills, The Power Elite (New York: Oxford University Press, 1956); C. WrightMills, “On the New Left,” in Paul Jacobs and Saul Landau, eds., The New Radicals(Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1966), 107-20; Vance Packard, The HiddenPersuaders (Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1957); Vance Packard, The Status Seekers:An Exploration of Class Behavior in America (Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1959);1 00 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000David Riesman, The Lonely Crowd: A Study of the Changing American Character (NewHaven: Yale University Press, 1961); Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., The Vital Center: ThePolitics of Freedom (Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1949); Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., ThePolitics of Hope (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1964); William Whyte, The Organization Man (New York: Simon and Shuster, 1956); Philip Wylie, Generation of Vipers (NewYork: Rinehart, 1942); Philip Wylie, “The Abdicating Male … and How the Gray Flannel Mind Exploits Him through His Women,” Playboy, November 1956, 23-24, 50, 79;and Philip Wylie, “The Womanization of America: An Embattled Male Takes a Look atWhat Was Once a Man’s World,” Playboy, September 1958, 51-52, 77-79.Studies of this period that I have found particularly useful include Alison J. Clarke,“Tupperware: Suburbia, Sociality and Mass Consumption,” in Roger Silverstone, ed.,Visions of Suburbia (London: Routledge, 1997), 132-60; Cohan, Masked Men; Barbara Ehrenreich, The Hearts of Men: American Dreams and the Flight from Commitment (London: Pluto, 1983); Barbara Ehrenreich, Fear of Falling: The Inner Life ofthe Middle Class (New York: Pantheon, 1989); Kenneth Jackson, The Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press,1985); Barbara Klinger, Melodrama and Meaning: History, Culture, and the Films ofDouglas Sirk (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994); Karal Ann Marling, AsSeen on TV: The Visual Culture of Everyday Life in the 1950s (Cambridge: HarvardUniversity Press, 1991); Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families inthe Cold War Era (New York: Basic Books, 1988); Joanne Meyerowitz, NotJune Cleaver:Women and Gender in Postwar America, 1945-1960 (Philadelphia: Temple UniversityPress, 1994); Richard Pells, The Liberal Mind in a Conservative Age: American Intellectuals in the 1940s and 1950s (Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1988);Andrew Ross, No Respect: Intellectuals and Popular Culture (New York: Routledge,1989); and Lynne Spigel, Make Room for TV: Television and the Family Ideal in Postwar America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992).Other studies include, Biskind, Seeing Is Believing; Paul Boyer, By the Bombs’ EarlyLight: American Thought and Culture at the Dawn of the Atomic Age (New York: Pantheon, 1985); Jackie Byars, All That Hollywood Allows: Re-reading Gender in 1950sMelodrama (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991); Corber, In the Nameof National Security; Carl Degler, Affluence and Anxiety: America since 1945 (Glenview,Ill.: Scott, Foresman, 1975); John Patrick Diggins, The Proud Decades: America in Warand Peace, 1941-1960 (New York: Norton, 1989); James Gilbert, Another Chance: Postwar America, 1945-1985 (Chicago: Dorsey Press, 1986); David Halberstam, The Fifties(New York: Villard, 1993); William Leuchtenberg, A Troubled Feast: American Societysince 1945 (Glenview, Ill.: Scott, Foresman, 1983); George Lipsitz, Rainbow at Midnight: Labor and Culture in the 1940s (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1994); LaryMay, ed., Recasting America: Culture and Politics in the Age of the Cold War (Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 1989); Alan Nadel, Containment Culture: American Narratives, Postmodernism, and the Atomic Age (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press,1995); William O’Neill, American High: The Years of Confidence, 1945-1960 (New York:Free Press, 1986); Ronald J. Oakley, God’s Country: America in the Fifties (New York:Dembner, 1990); Richard Polenberg, One Nation Divisible: Class, Race, and Ethnicityin the United States since 1938 (New York: Penguin, 1980); Janice Radway, “On Genderof the Middlebrow Consumer and the Threat of the Culturally Fraudulent Female,”South Atlantic Quarterly 93, no. 4 (fall 1994): 871-94; Michael Rogin, Ronald Reagan,the Movie and Other Episodes in Political Demonology (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987); Nora Sayre, Running Time: Films of the Cold War (New York: Dial,Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000 1011982); Ed Sikov, Laughing Hysterically: American Screen Comedy of the 1950s (NewYork: Columbia University Press, 1994); Stephen Whitfield, The Culture of the ColdWar (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996); and Lawrence S. Wittner, ColdWar America: From Hiroshima to Watergate (New York: Rinehart and Winston, 1978).25. Derek Elley, The Epic Film: Myth and History (London: Routledge, 1984), 6.26. Charlton Heston, In the Arena: The Biography (London: HarperCollins, 1996), 239.27. Peter Besas, Behind the Spanish Lens (Denver: Arden, 1985), 54.28. Thomas Schatz, “The New Hollywood,” in Jim Collins et al., eds., Film Theory Goes tothe Movies (New York: Routledge, 1993), 13.29. See Nadel, Containment Culture.30. Heston, In the Arena.31. Ibid., 249.32. Besas, Behind the Spanish Lens.33. For studies of Spanish history and culture, see, for example, Raymond Carr, ModernSpain 1875-1980 (Oxford, U.K.: Oxford University Press, 1980); and Helen Grahamand Jo Labanyi, eds., Spanish Cultural Studies: An Introduction. The Struggle forModernity (Oxford, U.K.: Oxford University Press, 1995).34. Of course, Bronston’s earlier films had also used the Spanish landscape, but thesescenes had been attributed to other places. For example, in King of Kings, Spain doubledfor Israel.35. Besas, Behind the Spanish Lens.36. See, for example, Virginia Higginbotham, Spanish Film under Franco (Austin: University of Texas Press); John Hopewell, Out of the Past: Spanish Cinema after Franco (London: British Film Institute, 1986); and Marsha Kinder, Blood Cinema: The Reconstructionof National Identity in Spain (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993).37. Higginbotham, Spanish Film under Franco, 16.38. Marta Hernandez, quoted in Higginbotham, Spanish Film under Franco, 16.39. Andrew Higson, “The Concept of National Cinema,” Screen 30, no. 4 (autumn 1989):36-46.40. Besas, Behind the Spanish Lens, 53.41. However, these films are sometimes defined as British, but this only further illustratesthat definitions of national cinema are more about the inevitably contradictory processes through which films are classified, rather than some internal feature of the filmsthemselves. For more on the contradictory ways in which these films have been defined, see Martyn Auty, “If the United States Spoke Spanish, We Would Have a FilmIndustry … ,” in Martyn Auty and Nick Roddick, eds., British Cinema Now (London:British Film Institute, 1985), 6, 11.42. Heston, In the Arena.43. For scholarship on the Poema and other Cid narratives, see “Introduction,” in Corneille,Le Cid (Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1975); Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid; J. Y.Gibson, trans., The Cid Ballads (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Truber, 1898); Graham and Labanyi, Spanish Cultural Studies; W. D. Howarth, Le Cid (London: Grantand Cutler, 1988); Ian Michael, The Poem of the Cid (Manchester, U.K.: ManchesterUniversity Press, 1975); Ramon Mendendez Pidal, The Cid and His Spain (London:John Murray, 1934); Colin Smith, ed., Spanish Ballads (Oxford, U.K.: Pergamon,1964); Colin Smith, ed., El Poema de Mio Cid (Oxford, U.K.: Clarendon, 1972); Peter Such and John Hodgkinson, “Introduction,” The Poem of My Cid (Warminster,U.K.: Aris and Phillips, 1987); and Roger Wright, Spanish Ballads (London: Grantand Culliver 1991).102 Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 200044. Richard Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid (London: Hutchinson, 1989), 5.45. Heston, In the Arena.46. Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid, 201.47. Kinder, Blood Cinema, 11.48. Such and Hodgkinson, “Introduction,” in The Poem of My Cid, 34.49. Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid, 204-5.50. Hunt, “‘What Are Big Boys Made of?”‘ 65.51. Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid, 118.52. In fact, a series of films emerged in the late 1950s and early 1960s that revolved aroundsimilar conflicts: 300 Spartans (1962), The Alamo (1960), Khartoum (1966), and evenZulu (1964). In each, a small force is compelled to hold a strategic location against impossible odds, and usually sacrifices itself so that victory may be achieved at a later point.53. Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid.54. Heston, In the Arena, 358.55. It is worth pointing out that Beckett was written by the French writer, Jean Anouilh,and that Robert Bolt, who wrote A Man for All Seasons, was English.56. See, for example, Daniel Bell, “America as a Mass Society: A Critique,” in The End ofIdeology, and W. W. Rostow, The Stages of Development: A Non-Communist Manifesto(London: Cambridge University Press, 1960).57. See, for example, Barbara Ehrenreich’s discussion of “maturity” in The Hearts of Menand my use of it in Rational Fears.58. “Conversation with Anthony Mann,” Framework 15/16/17 (summer 1981): 19.59. Hunt, “‘What Are Big Boys Made Of?”‘ 74.60. See, for example, Mulvey, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” and Neale, “Masculinity as Spectacle.”Cinema Journal 40, No. 1, Fall 2000

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