My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius. Commander of the Armies of the North. General of the Felix Legions. Loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son. Husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.
If he were by himself, he would have cried. Instead Commodus trembles. There in the dry dust of the Coliseum a man from the grave stands before him. To Commodus he must appear as a ghost in armor. Maximus stares down the emperor who would have him dead. His helmet had shielded his identity. Not anymore. Gladiator. Spaniard. Maximus. All are one in the same.
If you have never seen the movie Gladiator
, I highly suggest picking it up. For those who have seen it, you know of the moment that I speak of. Gladiator is a classic example of our infatuation with mistaken identity. Commodus ordered Maximus dead long ago. He had no reason to believe he was still alive. This perception was supported by the fact that Maximus had disappeared. Now, a Gladiator emerges with exceptional fighting skill. Gladiators are slaves. They are not the leaders of the Roman Army. Many at the event knew Maximus in a different time. None of them recognized him with mask on (though it would not be out of the realm of possibility to recognize him from his body and fighting style). The mask shielded his identity from witnesses who knew him as a different man. When the mask was removed, it was clear that the Gladiator was no peasant. The exhilirating moment of truth IS a moment of truth because a mistaken identity has been corrected.