Ridley Scott Cut Napoleon's Bloody Battle With Hemorrhoids: 'Too Distracting'
Napoleon Bonaparte fanatics, I have some very bad news for you. And for you non-fanatics, I've got some delicate explaining to do.
As you hopefully learned in school, Napoleon was one of the greatest military strategists in world history. He scored decisive victories against the massive Russian and Austrian militaries at Austerlitz in 1805, and served as Emperor of the French twice for a combined 11 years. His brilliance has been analyzed in countless books and dramatized in many movies (from Sergei Bondarchuk's masterful "War and Peace" to Stephen Herek's equally masterful "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure").
He was a fascinating man, and, ultimately, hubristic. He suffered a severe setback when he invaded Russia in 1812 (returning to France with 6,000 men after leaving with 450,000), and famously endured his final comeuppance at Waterloo, which resulted in the British exiling him to the island of Saint Helena where he died at the age of 51.
His life will once again be explored on the big screen in Ridley Scott's forthcoming "Napoleon," which stars Joaquin Phoenix as the enigmatic general. For a biopic that purports to depict Napoleon's rise and fall, Scott's film runs a surprisingly brisk 158 minutes. Scott is, of course, famous for truncated theatrical releases (most notably "Kingdom of Heaven," which hit multiplexes missing an hour of essential narrative in 2005), but he's also more than earned the benefit of the doubt over his remarkable 46-year career.
Still, details about what's not in the movie are beginning to trickle out. And when I say "trickle," I mean ... well, if you're at all squeamish when it comes to rectal maladies, you might want to click your way out of this article.
Napoleon's problems really piled up at Waterloo
Hemorrhoids. They happen, and for folks who do a surfeit of sitting, they can get pretty gnarly. Truckers, writers, and horseback riders are especially susceptible to this accursed condition. And they apparently did to Napoleon's backside what he did to Austria.
Scott acknowledged this in an interview with Empire, and, in classic Scott fashion, discussed the subject with amusing bluntness. "Napoleon was a horseman, he suffered from piles," said the director. "That's varicose veins up your butt, right? I don't have them, but they're very, very painful, it ain't funny. It's like having a toothache up your butt. There's nothing you can do."
Over the years, some historians have speculated that Napoleon's throbbing tuchus cost him the battle of Waterloo. He was in such searing posterior pain that he couldn't summon his celebrated battlefield genius. Scott initially sought to depict this facet of Napoleon's final defeat, but thought better of it. Here's how he explained his thinking to Empire:
"We sense history might have been different had Napoleon not had a very bad attack of piles on the day of Waterloo. You heard this one? Okay. So I had him at Waterloo, sitting on the loo, and it's pouring with rain outside, and he does his business. He gets up, looks in the loo, there is blood. Then he does the day in battle, sweating and in agony with the piles. David [Scarpa, the screenwriter] said, 'Isn't this rather undignified?' I said, 'Maybe, but it's accurate.' But we took it out of the movie because it became too distracting."
The reinsertion of Napoleon's derrière distress could be under preparation
The excision of the hemorrhoid subplot will doubtlessly please some historians like Alasdair White, who believes the impact of this affliction was invented by butt-hurt Napoleon fanboys. I'm the furthest thing from an expert on this subject, but I tend to believe his physical discomfort might've been less of a factor than his arrogance and the simple fact that the French were outnumbered by the Seventh Coalition. He was due a spanking one way or another.
And yet I'm disappointed that we won't get to see Best Actor-winner Joaquin Phoenix endure a difficult bowel movement. It's a scene that could very well belong in the scatalogical pantheon with Jeff Daniels' porcelain punishment in "Dumb and Dumber" and Christopher Meloni's spandex-clad mishap in "They Came Together." But I'll leave you with this encouraging thought: Scott might be known for slashing material out of his theatrical cuts, but he's just as famous for restoring this footage with his director's cuts.
When you're dealing with a Ridley Scott film, sooner or later, it all comes out in the end.