By Erin Free
In this regular column, we drag forgotten made-for-TV movies out of the vault and into the light. This week: wildman director Abel Ferrara’s 1986 vigilante action drama The Gladiator starring Ken Wahl.
Ever since he tore his way onto the American cinema scene with his gritty, against-the-grain underground 1979 horror shocker The Driller Killer, director Abel Ferrara has deliriously weaved his own wicked, wonderful path. As stylish as he is transgressive, Ferrara has helmed a huge collection of bruising, unforgettable cult classics, with obvious standouts like 1981’s Ms. 45 (aka Angel Of Vengeance), 1990’s King Of New York, 1992’s Bad Lieutenant, 1995’s The Addiction, 1996’s The Funeral and 1997’s The Blackout. Even now in his seventies, Ferrara is as fierce and furious as ever, directing even more daring and obtuse films, with the likes of Padre Pio (2024), Zeroes And Ones (2021) and Siberia (2020) just as daring as his earlier, far more feted works.
Despite his intense style and renowned taste for dangerous, illicit subject matter (Ferrara even dabbled in porn early in his career), this most challenging of directors actually made a few surprising but well-navigated detours into the oft-safe and sanitised world of network television in the 1980s. With his sense of style still in place, Ferrara directed two episodes of the slick but often satisfyingly sleazy cop show Miami Vice (one of which was the excellent “The Home Invaders”), one episode of the truly superb Crime Story, and the barely seen 1988 telemovie The Loner. Ferrara’s most substantial TV work, however, came with the impressive 1986 telemovie The Gladiator, a grim but entertaining tale of urban panic, vehicular carnage and unlikely revenge. Although originally intended for theatrical release, the film was purchased by Showtime Networks and eventually aired on major network ABC as a Monday Night Movie. Despite its apparent big screen origins, The Gladiator is by far Ferrara’s least in-your-face film, and feels very much like a small screen movie. It’s also one of the least discussed entries on this bold, uncompromising, iconoclastic filmmaker’s resume.
It might be tame (very, very tame) when compared to Abel Ferrara’s other films, but there’s a lot to like about The Gladiator. The first thing is leading man Ken Wahl, who starred in this small screen drama a year before his breakout role in the TV series Wiseguy (without question one of the best cop shows of the 1980s) and seven years after his sensational screen debut in Phillip Kaufman’s modern classic The Wanderers. Now sadly retired after a 1996 accident left him tragically disabled, the tall, handsome and ruggedly masculine Ken Wahl was one of the most promising stars of the 1980s (his brooding stoicism was challenged only by Michael Pare), delivering richly charismatic performances in films like Fort Apache The Bronx (1981), Race For The Yankee Zephyr (1981), The Soldier (1982) and Purple Hearts (1984). Wahl’s winning mix of toughness and vulnerability is superbly showcased in The Gladiator, and he makes for a highly engaging and relatable anti-hero, holding the film together even when it starts to fray a little at the edges.
Sporting a cool AF semi-mullet, Wahl stars as Rick Benton, a quiet, serious-minded mechanic and car customiser doing his best to keep his cocky younger brother Jeff (Brian Robbins from the 1980s sitcom Head Of The Class, and now a major TV player behind the scenes) on the straight and narrow. Already struggling under the weight of life’s pressures, Rick is pushed right to the edge when Jeff is killed after the duo become involved in an on-road tussle with an aggressive road-rager behind the wheel of a 1969 Dodge Charger. Desperate to find a new purpose in life, Rick reinvents himself as the eponymous vigilante, souping up his truck and rigging it with an armoury of gadgets, and then taking it to the road to carry out citizen’s arrests on drunk drivers, hot-rodders, speeders, and anyone else menacing America’s highways and suburban roads. Rick’s exploits quickly get the attention of the police and the media, and this reserved, humble man-on-a-mission is suddenly a major cause celebre. Good guy Rick also has a dangerous nemesis in the enigmatic form of the road-rager in the 1969 Dodge Charger, who is revealed to be nothing less than a serial killer on wheels.
While the simple synopsis might make The Gladiator sound a little silly and obvious, Ferrara pulls back on the gung-ho possibilities in the script by William Bleich, Tom Schulman and Jeffrey Walker to focus instead on the moral dilemma in which Wahl’s likeable Rick Benton finds himself. Rick is an average, everyday working-class guy whose need to act, to do something, pushes him into a position with which he’s unaccustomed and uncomfortable. It’s in Rick’s uncertainty over being an on-road vigilante that the film finds its emotional anchor, though Ferrara also stages a number of thrilling vehicular action set-pieces to keep things moving. Unfortunately, most of these action set-pieces (except for the finale) are accompanied by David Michael Frank’s awful synth-and-sax-heavy musical score, which horribly undercuts just about everything happening on screen.
Thankfully, the film’s excellent cast (all on good form) makes up for its disappointing music. 1980s cult fave Nancy Allen (Blow Out, Dressed To Kill, Robocop) is at her bubbly, brassy best as a talkback radio host who enters Rick’s orbit; character actor supreme Stan Shaw is terrific as Rick’s homily-heavy best buddy; always-on-point TV veteran and occasional big screen star Robert Culp brings the right mix of sympathy and cynicism to his harried cop-on-the-case; and comedian and radio superstar Rick Dees is very funny as Rick’s smarmy car salesman boss. They all work together to dose The Gladiator with a welcome sense of class and polish, though there’s not exactly a lot of love out there for Abel Ferrara’s modest vigilante flick…even amongst those involved with the film.
According to talented leading lady Nancy Allen, The Gladiator was something of an unwanted child right from the get-go. “I remember Ken Wahl and I went into Abel’s trailer to discuss the movie and he said ‘So, what are we going to do with this piece of shit?’” the actress told Money Into Light in 2016. “Abel Ferrara was great. I like him. I think he’s a very hip and talented guy. But that [moment] for me encapsulates the whole experience! I wish I had been able to do something a little better with him because I do think he’s really talented.”
Despite the fact that it is now largely forgotten (even by Abel Ferrara completists), The Gladiator is a somewhat dour but still gripping urban drama thriller that rises above its drawbacks (that musical score, an occasionally preachy tone on issues of road responsibility) through rich characterisation, imaginative action set-pieces, a winningly gritty sensibility, and strong performances. It’s a fascinating footnote in the career of one of American cinema’s wildest and most raucously talented filmmakers, and an essential entry in the resume of a profoundly charismatic and talented actor whose career was cut tragically and disappointingly short.
Availability: Though released on VHS and DVD over the years, The Gladiator is now a little hard to find in decent form, existing online in only a fairly muddy and faded presentation, though it’s certainly watchable.
If you enjoyed this review, check out our other vintage telemovies Elvis, The Rat Pack, Silent Victory: The Kitty O’Neil Story, Terror Among Us, The Hanged Man, Hardcase, Charlie’s Angels: Angels In Vegas, Vanishing Point, To Heal A Nation, Fugitive Among Us, To Kill A Cop, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, Police Story: A Chance To Live, Murder On Flight 502, Moon Of The Wolf, The Secret Night Caller, Cotton Candy, And The Band Played On, Gargoyles, Death Car On The Freeway, Short Walk To Daylight, Trapped, Hotline, Killdozer, The Jericho Mile, Mongo’s Back In Town, and Tribes.
