BARABBAS, the big-scale 1961 adaptation of Pär Lagerkvist’s Pulitzer-winning 1950 novel makes for a thoughtful and intelligent, if grueling, spiritual saga. While not as financially successful or well-remembered as others in the genre, it rates quite well as a Biblical epic. In a brooding flock, it’s certainly one of the darkest.

Freed from a death on a cross next to Jesus, loutish criminal Barabbas (Anthony Quinn) continues with his drunken debauchery and brigandage until he’s again caught, and this time condemned to long years of slavery in Sicilian sulfur mines. Released from the hellish underground after surviving an earthquake, he and his fellow convict ‘Sahak’ (Vittorio Gassman), a resolute Christian, are forced to become gladiators, amusement for Nero and the voracious crowd. Out of a life made of pain, in a world given to misery will crude, cursed Barabbas ever see the light?

Richard Fleischer does a superb job ordering producer Dino De Laurentiis’ hordes of extras around impressive sets and directing quality work from a fine cast. They luckily work with a literate screenplay from the celebrated Christopher Fry. *

Exceptionally well done are scenes in the ghastly mines and spectacular sequences of gladiatorial training and the arena. Fleischer had a stroke of luck and inspiration when a solar eclipse occurred and they caught it to use to eerie effect for the film, as backdrop for the Crucifixion of Christ. Appropriately solemn and portentous scoring from Mario Nascimbene is another strong feature; he’d worked with Fleischer in The Vikings.

Quinn seems the perfect choice for this one: he’s in his lusty physical element, ably working a full-story-length character arc, and there is solid thesping from Silvana Mangano (with a memorably staged stoning death), Arthur Kennedy (calmly indifferent Pilate), Jack Palance (great as celebrated gladiator ‘Torvald’, imposing and scary, even maniacal, without going over-the-top), a subdued Ernest Borgnine, and Katy Jurado, full throttle and arresting even when dubbed.

With Harry Andrews, Norman Wooland, Valentina Cortese, Michael Gwynne, Friedrich von Ledebur, Ivan Triesault and Douglas Fowley. Lost in the mass of extras is a 17-year-old American girl, picking up some spare lira while living in Italy at the time—Sharon Tate. Jostling for their own personal stakes off-screen, Borgnine and Jurado were in a tempestuous 4-year marriage at the time, while Mangano was rather more conveniently married—to producer Dino. Theirs lasted 39 years. Released in the US late in ’62, it grossed $8,300,000. 137 minutes.

* Esteemed playwright Fry had earlier pitched in on Ben-Hur (without credit) and would later handle John Huston’s ambitious The Bible…in the Beginning. Here he received uncredited assistance from Nigel Balchin, Diego Fabbri, Ivo Perelli and a fellow with the rousing name of Salvatore Quasimodo.