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A brief history lesson. Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, nick named Caligula because of the little soldiers uniform he wore as a child when he followed his father and his army into battle (Caligula roughly translates out to "little soldier's boot"), came into power in 37 A.D. His time as emperor is remembered for being exceptionally cruel towards both his people and the servants of his palace. Accounts state that he killed on a whim, prostituted his sisters, slept with other men's wives and later bragged about it, and demanded that everyone adress him as a god, to the point that he declared a statue to be erected of him in the Temple of Jerusalem. Of course, which stories of him are truth and which are merely historical gossip and fabrications is anyone's guess. The mystery surrounding his kingdom is fodder for Hollywood, since they do not have to worry about historical inaccuracies. They could feasibly make Caligula into a thirteen foot transvestite that wore Divine-esque makeup and got around by floating on a perpetual cloud of fart gas if they wanted to. Well, maybe not that far, but you get the idea.

On paper it sounds like a great idea for a movie. A biopic about a Roman Emperor whose insanity and lust for anything pleasurable knew no restraints. Of course, this being in the late 70's, where the Hays code had long gone out of effect and exploitation films were by no means uncommon, it was becoming harder and harder to shock people, and therefore get their undivided attention. So, logically, one must step up the ante, go for the jugular so to speak, and give the term "explicit" a whole new meaning. In comes Penthouse founder Bob Guccione to produce, Tinto Brass to direct, and multiple, multiple people to edit. What's the end result? A schlocky 70's film that looks like a schlocky 70's porn with great production sets.

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