Pop Classics

Marking Season Part Deux

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Sun, 27 May 2012 19:06:00 +0000

Hello everyone.

I'm still marking.

If I ever finish the marking (though at the moment I'm increasingly convinced I'm trapped in some kind of eternal marking purgatory) I will be writing an abstract on the underworld in film and a paper on gladiatorial combats. So, in order to get all my resources lined up for my own benefit if nothing else, please enjoy these underworld/gladiatorial highlights from the archives.

The Underworld
The Lord of the Rings
Orphee
Hercules
Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief

Gladiators
Top Five Gladiatorial Combats
Gladiator
Star Trek: Bread and Circuses
Star Trek: The Gamesters of Triskelion
The Hunger Games (books)
The Hunger Games (film)
Spartacus
Main Spartacus: Blood and Sand page

There are many more posts I could add that talk about gladiators, but I do actually have to get back to the marking now!

Marking Season

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Thu, 24 May 2012 19:38:00 +0000

Hello everyone. Just stopping by to say I'm going to have to take a break from blogging for a week or two as I'm drowning in a pile of marking. I hope the guy doing my flat inspection tomorrow isn't expecting it to be clean...

Caffeinated beverages are very important to me when marking. And the rest of the time.

I have, during this time of intense stress and eye strain, become quite addicted to Pinterest, largely because it's completely visual, which is a great relief after trying to read student handwriting for six hours. My page is here. I know the number of social networking sites around is getting silly, but so far this one really does seem worth a look. Maybe it's just 'cause I've always enjoyed sticking things on corkboards.

Anyway, while I get red pen all over my fingers and then rub my face, please enjoy these highlights from the archives! In honour of the exam season, I herewith present my posts on the most over-examined non-Classical author in history - Shakespeare.

Julius Caesar
Julius Caesar (TV)
Hamlet
Romeo + Juliet
Coriolanus

And, because you haven't really experienced Shakespeare until you've heard it in the original Klingon:
Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

I'll be back soon (I hope!) :)

Rome: A Necessary Fiction

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Mon, 21 May 2012 19:05:00 +0000

We're approaching the end of Rome, so this might be a good point to pause for a moment and take stock of where we are, history-wise.

As you probably know, Rome was cancelled while they were halfway through filming season 2. Originally, the plan was for season 2 to cover a fairly small amount of time (I think I remember reading somewhere that it was supposed to end with the Battle of Philippi, eventually covered in episode 6, or possibly its immediate aftermath). This would have meant the series never got to cover some of the most famous and most hotly anticipated incidents in this period of history - in particular, Antony and Cleopatra's relationship and their eventual defeat and suicide. Fans of I, Claudius would also have been denied the chance to see the Rome writers' interpretation of one of that series' most famous and colourful characters, Livia.

So, the writers decided to change their plan for the end of the season and speed up the plot. And we're talking F1/Nascar/Moto GP/choose your racing metaphor of choice levels of acceleration here. Episode 7, 'Death Mask', starts sometime after the Battle of Philippi, which was in 43 BC. So it's 42 BC at the latest. By the end of the episode, having entirely omitted Antony and Cleopatra's first relationship, it's at least 40 BC. This episode starts sometime after that and ends in 37 BC, with Antony (re)joining Cleopatra. Episode 9 skips the years 37-32 and starts somewhere around 32 or 31, in the lead-up to the Battle of Actium, and Episode 10 takes place in 31-30, from Actium to Antony and Cleopatra's suicides.

As far as the historical characters go, this isn't too disastrous. Shakespeare compressed Antony and Cleopatra's relationship and the events of the civil war after all, so why shouldn't Rome?! No, the problem lies in the attempts to conclude Pullo and Vorenus' story. The structure of the show requires their story to progress at much the same pace as the historical story, but the nature of the plot they were in the middle of doesn't work when spread across a nearly ten-year period. Eirene, for example, is pregnant in episode 6, 'Philippi' - in 43 BC - and still pregnant with the same child at the beginning of this episode, 3 years later. Caesarion, who is an historical character, ages at an appropriate rate but Vorenus' younger daughter and Niobe's son don't age in over a decade (I'll give them the elder daughter, who's old enough that her aging would be less obvious).

I don't disagree with the writers' decision on this. I'd have loved to see an entire season of Antony and Cleopatra in Egypt, and maybe even get Sextus Pompey and some pirates in there, but it wasn't to be, so I'm glad they decided to cover as much of the juiciest ground as possible, and get right up ton Octavian's final victory. It gives the series a really nice sense of closure and means they've covered the whole of the end of the Republic (plus you can move straight on to the first episode of I, Claudius afterwards). I do wish, though, that they'd wrapped up some of the soapy storylines - which, after all, they had more control over - a little more logically and perahps a little more quickly. But then, I was always more interested in the historical parts anyway.

The upshot of all this for this particular episode is that this episode has to occupy a strange sort of nether-time, drifting loosely away from any specific year in history, in order to get our characters to where they need to be for the last two epsiodes to cover the final war between Antony and Octavian.

As we open, Octavian is delivering a history lesson about the rape of the Sabine women and declares that the women of Rome are the ones who have conquered the world with their steely virtue and chaste morals (you just know at this point that this is the episode where we're going to meet Livia). It's accompanied by a montage reminding us of the various relationships currently in play - Atia has forgiven Antony enough to still be sleeping with him, Agrippa and Octavia are still together too, Gaia is evil.

Octavian here sets out his moral programme of anti-adultery and pro-marriage laws. In real life, this was something he did when firmly ensconced as emperor, and it was his daughter and grand-daughter who suffered under the laws (see I, Claudius). They've been moved up here (though to be fair, he clearly states that these are laws he will enact 'in the future'), partly to illustrate this aspect of Octavian's character, but also because this will provide the impetus for the accelerated break-up of Antony and Octavia's marriage and, by extension, the end of the Republic (partly). Maecenas thinks it's 'very amusing' (he'd be gone from Octavian's group of friends by the time the laws were enacted).

Maecenas points Livia out to Octavian as a prospective wife. He says she has just one child and she doesn't appear to be pregnant, as she was historically - a great but of genuine ancient gossip that sadly had to be jettisoned for time. She is already married though, and apart from the fact Octavian was already married and had a daughter, it's all roughly as recorded. Livia here comes across as a rather innocent-seeming girl. Appearances can be deceptive.

Timon is leaving for Jerusalem with his family, and Jocasta and Posca turn out, in a refreshing change from everyone else's misery, to be happily married. OK, this is based largely on him buying her stuff, but they both seem pretty content. Posca has a super secret meeting with Maecenas at which he, a freedman, has to point out to Maecenas that his slaves probably do understand him (though Maecenas insists they don't speak Latin). Posca is panicking because he and Maecenas are planning to nick a pile of gold from Antony and Octavian, presumably to keep Jocasta in jangly jewellery.

The Godfather, Dodgy and The Third Man seem to be in charge of transporting said gold and The Third Man's nose is out of joint because he is third in their own little triumvirate (which surely has been obvious to him for a long time and isn't likely to change because he sulks). Gaia brings Eirene poisoned tea, which the camera lingers on for a sufficiently long time that we have no doubt what's in it. Sure enough, the next scene is poor Eirene's death scene (with some random nudity from Dodgy, because they happen to be in bed at the time). Dodgy repeatedly insists she's not dying, all evidence (i.e. enormous amounts of blood) to the contrary. Dodgy's eulogy for her is rather sweet, though he still doesn't exactly know where his wife came from, which is a bit pathetic. Her funeral is attended only by Dodgy and the Godfather, which seems a shame, you'd think at least the Godfather's sulky children would come.

Because Dodgy was at his wife's funeral, The Third Man was given the job of transporting the gold, and now he's the one who's been seriously injured by a gang of thieves who've stolen it. The Godfather reassures Octavian that he's thoroughly investigating, but as he predicted, gets in trouble for not using Dodgy. Maecenas tries to imply this is where the weak link is, which given Dodgy had a pretty sound excuse is a bit desperate. Everyone needles and suspects everyone else, except Lepidus, who's convinced it was Gauls. Maecenas, it turns out, was not involved, and is convinced Posca and Antony have double-crossed him.

The Godfather goes to visit the other, evil Don to ask if he knows anything about the theft. You can tell he and Creepy Guy (the one seducing Sulky Eldest Daughter) get serious when the Godfather leaves because they shove their women out of the way so they can concentrate. Evil Don, who has in fact got the triumvirate's gold, has decided it's time to get rid of the Godfather once and for all and calls a selection of other mafia-types to work with him to that end.

Maecenas needles Octavian about Antony, still annoyed about the money. To get rid of Antony, he tells Octavian about the general lack of respect for the institution of marriage among his family. Octavian, strangely innocent as he is in personal matters (that won't change) is horrified and calls all four naughty children to dinner so he can tell them off. Aside from the five of them, only Livia and Maecenas are present.

In the lead-up to the exciting dinner, Octavian and Livia have a cosy little chat about how their sex life will work once they're married. It involves S&M. Livia seems quite happy with this arrangement. (There's actually something weirdly sweet about Octavian's anxiety to reassure her he won't be hurting her because he's mad at her).

The following scene is pretty much the last time many of the major characters are gathered in one room. It is perhaps worth mentioning at this point that the group we are looking at comprise the grandfather, two great-grandfathers, two great-grandmothers, and great-great-grandmother (twice over) of the Emperor Caligula. That is what these people's ultimate legacy will be. I just wanted to mention that.

Octavian declares that he is master of the family and proceeds to lay down the law. Octavia, Antony and Atia are pretty cross, but Agrippa 'fesses up to everything and apologises, trying to protect Octavia. Octavian declares that he'll lock up his mother and sister so they can't misbehave (given what he later did to his daughter and grand-daughter, they're getting off lightly by being allowed to stay in the city). He orders Antony to leave Rome all otgether, on pain of him telling everyone Antony's wife has been cheating on him with 'a pleb on my staff'. Octavia tells Livia she's marrying a monster and she and Atia are sent home with Maecenas. Atia tells Maecenas he's not done Octavian a favour by ratting them out. Agrippa gets to stay because Octavian needs him and his disappearance would cause a scandal. Octavian and Livia are left to thenselves and their stuffed songbirds. Livia looks quite smug - she's clearly aware that he's just permanently alienated his entire family and all his friends execpt Maecenas, leaving her to be his cloest confidante.

The most interesting thing about this alteration to history - done for time, partly - is that it shifts the blame for Antony's leaving Rome from Antony to Octavian. Here, Octavian kicks Antony out - right into the arms of Cleopatra. He seems to be trying to provoke war by doing so, which is an interesting change from the sources, which imply that Antony left because he wanted to, making his intentions even clearer by refusing to take Octavia with him (she had just patched up a quarrel between him and Octavian, that being more or less her job). Of course, these sources were all written during the reign of, and presumably with the blessing of, Augustus/Octavian, but that's the record we have. The fact that Rome represents a scenario that's the exact opposite - Octavian forcing Antony's hand by kicking him out rather than simply waiting for him to leave - is quite interesting and perhaps, even, may be closer to the truth - if not, it's certainly plausible.

The Godfather, not being stupid, has reaslied it was Evil Don who stole the gold, and Dodgy suspects The Third Man betrayed them to him, so he goes off to deal with the problem in his own special way. But just as things are looking bad for The Third Man, the Godfather finds one of the little dolls Creepy Guy has been giving his daughter and realises who the actual traitor was. They have a confrontation and she finally tells him she hates him for killing their mother, cursing them and abanding them to be enslaved. Then she pulls a knife on him and says she won't go as easily as Niobe, at which point the Godfather finally tells her outright that no, he didn't kill thier mother. He thinks about killing her, but the other children are watching, and he lets her go.

Antony tries to go and say goodbye to his lover/mother-in-law but the house is under guard. So he yells, which we know from the previous episode is pretty effective. Atia comes to the doorway so they can see but not touch each other. It's genuinely sad, and for once Antony seems as upset about the whole business as she is. He promises to send for her when the time comes and seems to honestly mean it. He kisses her hand (the guards aren't that fussy) and she goes inside, unaware that this is the last time they'll see each other alive.

Posca is helping Antony burn incriminating documents when the Godfather turns up. He tells him Dodgy will retrieve the gold and begs to be taken to Alexandria because he can't stay in Rome. Antony, who I can only assume has some kind of random man-crush on him, says yes as long as he won't turn to drink (as Stoic types often do when disappointed in life, apparently). The Godfather says goodbye to Dodgy but decides not to see his children. He asks Dodgy to tell them he tried (the running away as soon as things get bad does not make this a convincing argument).

Atia has snuck Agrippa into the kitchen to see Octavia, which is really sweet of her. The way Atia and Octavia get closer throughout season 2 is really nice. It all goes horribly wrong, though, when Agrippa explains that he isn't going to run away with her and, in fact, he's come to break up with her because he honestly believes Octavian has the right to do what he wants with all of them. It's heart-breaking to see the tragic demise of his and Octavia's relationship but it does fit rather nicely with what's known of Agrippa (ignoring the fact he never historically had an affair with Octavia). Agrippa was the only one of Octavian's friends who stayed that way until his (Agrippa's) death, the only one after Antony allowed to marry into Octavian's family, his co-consul several times and it was Agrippa he gave his ring to when he thought he was dying in 23 BC. Much as Agrippa seems like a bit of a wet sop at times, not only is he a brilliant general, he is the one Octavian really trusts, and this scene provides a reason, within Rome's version of events, for that to be the case.

Octavia also mentions that she's pregnant, but doesn't care who the father is becasue 'niether man is worth a brass obol.' Given that the family tree is quite incestuous enough already, we can only hope it's Antony.

Dodgy and The Third Man lead an all-out war against Evil Don and the others (Gaia fights along with them, which is the only sympathetic thing she does throughout the series). Our guys win, obviously. The death by axe of Creepy Guy is especially satisfying.

Meanwhile, in Alexandria, Antony enters Cleopatra's palace with due pomp and circumstance (and newly energised version of the theme tune) and, while clearly underessing each other with their eyes, they greet each other with the single words; 'Antony.' 'Cleopatra'. It's astonisingly effective, playing on one of the few things the writers can rely on their audience probably already knowing and making the most of the little runtime the show has left by allowing our imaginations to fill in what the series doesn't have time for - something that they will rely on even more in the following episode, when we'll be skipping ahead by five years.

Impressively for an episode with such a difficult job to do, this is also a really good bit of television. Perhaps the need to compress everything actually had some good side-effects, as the series focuses only the most important storylines and produces a full and fast-paced hour. The Godfather and Dodgy continue to Forrest Gump their way through history - here, they are indirectly responsible for the end of what's left of the Roman Republic, just as predicted back in episode 2 of season 1. Actually, Gaia is. Because she poisoned Eirene, Dodgy wasn't guarding the gold and Evil Don was able to steal it. Because Evil Don stole the gold, Maecenas, thinking it was Antony, ratted Anotny and the others out to Octavian. Because of this, out of a combination of hurt pride and general power-madness, Octavian kicked Antony out of Rome and sent him to Alexandria, where he joined forces with Cleopatra against Octavian. I knew I didn't like Gaia.

Quite a lot of European history is, essentially, these three's fault

As well as doing a decent job pulling all the threads into place, this episode had some really nice bits of quotable dialogue in it:

Octavian: You have many talents, Agrippa. Seduction is not one of them.

Agrippa: I would go with you to Hades - to Britain, even!

The town crier reads out a fantastic advert for slaves 'to suit all budgets' at one point.

And quoted again, just because it's so brilliantly, economically effective:
Cleopatra: Antony.
Antony: Cleopatra.

All Rome reviews

Xena Warrior Princess: Maternal Instincts

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Fri, 18 May 2012 17:05:00 +0000

I've been meaning to catch the musical episode of Xena, 'The Bitter Suite', for ages, since it's so well known and has had quite an impact on genre television. When the Internet suggested it was more or less the second part of a two-parter, with this as the first, I figured I'd better watch this one before watching the musical.

My goodness, that was depressing. This flippin' musical had better be worth it!

See, I'm an old-fashioned girl. I like my stories to follow certain narrative rules. No one dies without there being some purpose to it (unless it's a World War One story), the dog always escapes while the rest of New York burns, and you never kill the baby. Or the offspring, of whatever age, of any of your principal characters. This is why I've never watched Trainspotting. There are exceptions - I'm weirdly fond of Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, probably because the revival of Spock compensates emotionally for the offing of Kirk's son. But for the most part - keep the kids(/grown-up offspring) alive.

Of course, poor Solon was doomed from the moment Xena said he could come with her, since these shows have to maintain the status quo. It's a shame, as he was pretty likeable and it might actually have been interesting to shake up the cast dynamics with a teen. It's also interesting that Xena obviously got to the evil-child idea and the bad guy quoting vaguely Biblical sounding phrases ('my father's kingdom is at hand') years before Joss Whedon went anywhere near them. I guess that hideous Jasmine-storyline in Angel is, ultimately, Xena's fault.

On the subject of children, this episode also saw the return of the woman who gave birth to a half-baby, half-foal, which will never stop looking ridiculous. And centaurs apparently grow as unnaturally quickly as Evil Babies, Miracle Babies, Alien-Implant Babies etc. Or possibly, to be fair, as fast as horses. Xena leaving her son with a centaur to raise him is very Greek-myth-appropriate; Chiron was practically running a nursery of budding Greek heroes.

The various Gimmicks of Plot in this episode end up prodding Gabrielle to kill her own daughter (something to do with the child being inherently evil from some earlier episode I haven't seen). This is a recurring subject from Greek myth that I've been thinking about a bit lately because one of my students is writing an essay on it - thank you to Rachel for most of what I'm about to talk about! Usually, parents will kill their own children for one of two reasons. One: the father kills his child/children because of the gods - Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter under orders, Heracles is driven mad by Hera (I think that got a reference early on in the episode actually). There's an interesting parallel there with the story of Abraham and Isaac, in which Abraham has to be willing to kill Isaac on God's orders, but ultimately is spared having to do so. Two: the mother kills her children as an act of revenge against their father (Medea, Procne). (There's a third category, groups of children who are sacrificed, but this post is long enough already. I'll save that for when I get around to doing Doctor Who's 'The Horns of Nimon'). This is one of those Greek horror stories designed to get the biggest cringe of disgust out of the audience (see also: Oedipus) as a parent killing their own child is often thought to be one of the worst crimes imaginable.

(This sort of child-killing is distinct from the infanticide of very young babies by exposure, which was common in both myth and reality in the ancient world - there's usually some sort of ceremony to accept a child into the community, after which it's murder to kill the child. Also, newborns are usually exposed, not stabbed/throats cut/chopped up and fed to their father etc. It makes a difference - exposed children might be rescued by someone who can afford to raise them or keep them as a slave).

Thing is, I suspect these particular Greek myths stem from most of the myth-makers - poets, pot-painters, sculptors - being men who somehow thought it was plausible that a woman would be so angry with her husband, she would murder her own children just to spite him. Notice (as Rachel pointed out to me the other day) the men are never the ones choosing to kill their children, only the women. By contrast, the modern crime of familicide not only includes both partner and children and has completely different motivations, but is also more commonly (though not exclusively) committed by men. In sum: the ancient Greeks were rather sexist and didn't understand women.

Science fiction and fantasy also occasionally plays with this plot, as way of torturing its main characters as much as humanly possible. Generally, it will go for the first version - substitute evil aliens/weird technology for the gods, and you've got Torchwood: Children of Earth. More often, the situation will be more of an Abraham and Isaac story (e.g. Fringe, 'The Firefly' and others), because a) it's less depressing and b) there's a part of you that can never quite forgive a character who kills their own offspring, because it's such a horrific thing to do. Well, there's a part of me, anyway. Whatever mortal danger the planet was in at the time, I still prefer to pretend Children of Earth never happened.

Ultimately, whether or not this kind of story works depends on whether you want people to sympathise with your murderous character and whether you come up with a good enough reason for them to do something so awful. I'm not sure I can quite get behind Gabrielle's reason - however guilty she felt, I can't help thinking the big mistake was sending the potentially evil child to hang out with Solon by herself. Just supervise her better, Gabrielle! But then, I haven't seen the episode that explains the origins of Evil Baby, so maybe that would make a difference. More pressing is the problem that I can't see how Xena could ever forgive Gabrielle for inadvertently causing the death of her son. This musical has a lot of work to do.

They look far too happy. Naturally, he's doomed.

(Oh yeah, Callisto was in this episode too. She and Xena yelled at each other about their respective pain. A lot of rocks fell on her head.)

Quotes

Hope: They'll kill what they love most... their children. How very Greek.

Xena: Unless the impossible's happened she's trapped for good. This is the trouble with living in mystical myth-time - you never get to watch TV, so you can never become genre savvy

Disclaimer: Xena and Gabrielle's relationship was harmed during the production of this motion picture.

All Xena: Warrior Princess reviews

Shadowlands (dir. Richard Attenborough, 1993)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Mon, 14 May 2012 21:20:00 +0000

I love Shadowlands, though I don't watch it all that often as it's too depressing! As a biography of CS Lewis, it's a wee bit misleading - as well as factual bits and pieces like the fact that Joy had two sons, not one (and they probably aged a bit over eight years) and that Lewis worked for Cambridge in the 1950s as well as Oxford, the depiction of Lewis as a sexually naive and socially awkward man is, shall we say, not the impression one gets from his autobiography. And Hopkins' performance, though wonderful, mesmerising and all-round brilliant, is fast and frenetic, rather than the slow and thoughtful manner of a man who may have been the inspiration behind Treebeard. None of that matters though, because it's a film, not an historical document, and as a film, it's wonderful (Lewis' stepson Douglas Gresham has also observed that is does a good job of capturing the emotion, if not the facts, of that time).

Appropriately for a biopic of someone who loved Classical literature so much, there are a few Classical references scattered throughout the film. During one of my favourite scenes, in which the wonderful James Frain's Whistler falls asleep in a seminar (I've done that), Lewis is teaching Aristotle's views on character. Some of Aristotle's rules for drama have become accepted an essential to all good fiction (stories should probably have a beginning, middle and end), others less so (unity of time and place is so rare as to be a novelty). This one is somewhere in the middle - Lewis talks about Aristotle's suggestion that the audience/reader should not be told why a character acts in a certain why, but shown it through their actions. Good advice, I suspect. Anything involving Whistler is a highlight in this film - especially his observation to Lewis that 'we read to know we are not alone', which feels very true.

Another scene has Christopher Riley needle Lewis about the soul in Roman terms. I'm sure I once read somewhere that Christopher Riley is a fictional character, a sort of composite of Tolkien (who is noticeably absent, presumably because of his real-life disapproval of Lewis 'strange' marriage, which he wasn't told about until afterwards) and other friends of Lewis' (probably Owen Barfield and Charles Williams, though I can't remember if either of those were atheists). Riley is a staunch atheist who prods Lewis about this intermittently, and at one social gathering he mixes that up with a big old dollup of two thousand-year-old sexism, as he insists that men have intellect (animus) where women have soul (anima). In Latin, both could be roughly translated as 'soul' or 'mind', but animus refers to the rational, logical mind, anima to the emotional. Joy puts him in his place, and very satisfying it is too.

There's one other possible Classical shout-out - when Whistler steals a book from Blackwells (because apparently having access to the entire Bodleian Library isn't enough for him) I could swear he's stealing a Loeb - editions of Classical texts with Latin or Greek on one side and English on the other. This one is red, so it would be Latin. At least he's stealing something interesting. As long as it's not Cicero.

The description of the' shadowlands' of the title given in the film doesn't entirely reflect Lewis' concept of the 'shadowlands', which he sets out in The Last Battle. The idea is related to Plato's myth of the cave, which Lewis had already drawn heavily upon in the climax of The Silver Chair (in which the Witch-Queen of the Underworld tries to convince our heroes that the world above, the sun and Aslan are just a dream). In Plato's Republic, Socrates imagines people watching shadows projected on the wall of a cave, and how dazzled they would be to walk out into the real light. Lewis imagines this Earth (or Narnia) as the cave and shadow-pictures (shadows and dust, Maximus! ahem, sorry), and the afterlife as the real world. The way the idea is brought up in the film makes it sound more like a 'grass is always greener' sort of problem, or a statement about how you never know what's round the corner (it's mentioned immediately before Joy collapses and is diagnosed with cancer). Lewis' idea is a little bit deeper than that, though for the most part his ideas on grief and suffering are well represented in the film.

This conversation, by the way, is also one of several points in the film where someone observes that when Lewis asks a question, he already has the answer waiting - that's what a life of academic teaching will do to you I'm afraid.

Towards the end of the film, the couple go to Herefordshire, which is another minor alteration. In real life, they went to Greece a few months before Joy died. It's an interesting change. It's mainly aesthetic - the film is so British it hurts. But the shift in scene and the introduction of the idea that the young Jack thought the valley they visit was heaven generates a rather simpler view of 'heaven' than Lewis usually described (it actually seems more like one of the simple hobbit pleasures Tolkien was so keen on). This image of heaven being in a wet English valley is more like a reader's or filmmakers' view of Narnia, the element of Narnia that is Northern Ireland writ big. But the real Lewis chose to go to Greece, the only time he left the UK except to fight in France in World War One. Greece is a land of pagan wonder, of ancient mysteries and stories that are as difficult as they are fascinating. Greece is closer to the Narnia that's filled with Roman woodland spirits and pagan gods of ecstasy, the Narnia that tends to be played down or edited out of cinematic or televisual interpretations. That would have been a rather different scene in the film, with a very different tone.

Shadowlands is a beautiful film and well worth seeing. It's also an excellent advert for Oxford as a tourist destination (I've been to hear the May morning singing in Oxford, which is great fun, albeit noisy, crowded and full of very drunk undergraduates who've been up all night. And they block off the edges of the bridge to stop people jumping off it, as the river isn't actually very deep there). The performances are uniformly excellent, especially Hopkins and Frain - and thanks to imdb, I've just discovered that the kid is Timmy from Jurassic Park, so that's one mystery that's been bothering me for years cleared up. Just make sure you have a big box of tissues to hand for the end.

Images from the May morning singing, 2011

More posts on CS Lewis and Tolkien

Top Five Battle Scenes

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Fri, 11 May 2012 20:49:00 +0000

I have a new article up at Den of Geek - the time loop episodes article I mentioned a few days ago.

Ancient warfare is a difficult thing to represent on screen. Hoplite warfare in particular, which consisted largely of pushing and shoving, does not work cinematically (in one battle scene in 300, they give it a good go for a minute or two before saying to heck with it and going into comic-book-style slo-mo). And a good battle scene is quite hard to do under any circumstances, needing a combination of close action featuring our heroes and villains and sweeping shots of the battle as a whole (see for example every battle scene in The Lord of the Rings).

Military history is very much not my area, so these have not been chosen for their fidelity to ancient battle tactics. Nor have they been chosen necessarily for artistic merit or violence level - I'm not that into gore or screen violence. I like scenes that surprise me or that feature powerful character development, or a fresh angle on an old trope, or something like that. Or that just end with one army turning into a pile of dust. Whatever.

5. 300 Spartans vs the Persian Army and a Frickin' Huge Rhino, 300
Are we talking World War Three here? On the Greek side, obviously not, there are just 300 Spartans and some random Athenians (that being kind of the point). On the Persian side, though, we've got a huge army representing the biggest empire in the Western/Near Eastern world, so the label might apply. World War 0.5, perhaps.
Swords or pistols? Swords, arrows, Frickin' Huge Rhino.
Bloodless carnage? Definitely not.
Do the goodies win? Define 'win'... Technically our Greek heroes lose, but although the battle is lost, the war is eventually won.
Makes the list because... The battle sequences in 300 are deliberately ridiculous, spraying blood everywhere to ape the graphic novel images, showing grown men running around in their underpants, and let us not speak of the guy with the claws. But two moments stand out as being pretty awesome. One is the moment when, having quoted the phrase attributed to Leonidas by Plutarch (on being told the Persians had so many arrows they blotted out the sun, he replied, 'that's nice, we'll fight them in the shade' - from Sayings of Spartans) as the Persian arrows come flying at them, our heroes just crouch under their big shields and have a rest. But top prize goes to the Frickin' Huge Rhino that one of our guys shoots in the eye so it slides to the ground at his feet. Totally unhistorical I'm sure, utterly daft and probably implausible, but you gotta love it. It's a Frickin' Huge Rhino for crying out loud!

4. The Magi vs the Army of Anubis, The Mummy Returns
Are we talking World War Three here? The entire world is indeed at stake. Literally.
Swords or pistols? Magi with swords against... whatever it was the army of Anubis was wielding. More swords and jackal teeth, probably.
Bloodless carnage? The film's PG-13, so yes. Oded Fehr gets attractively dusty, that's about it.
Do the goodies win? Yes.
Makes the list because... OK, this battle is daft, tame and not particularly interestingly filmed. But it makes the list for two great moments. There's the fantastic 'oh shit' moment when, having defeated one wave of CGI bad guys, a much bigger wave appears over the sand dune (it's pretty similar to Theoden's face when he sees the oliphaunts). And the glorious ending, as the army of Anubis blows away into dust just at the moment they were about to make contact with Oded Fehr and his thin black line of surviving Magi. It's corny, it's cheesy, it's daft; I love it.

3. Romans vs Pirates, Ben-Hur (1959)
Are we talking World War Three here? Not really, though it's a fairly big naval battle.
Swords or pistols? Ships. And some swords I think, but it's the ship-ramming that sticks in the mind.
Bloodless carnage? Mostly. There's some artful blood smeared on the survivors' gleaming bodies.
Do the goodies win? It looks bad at first, but the Romans prevail in the end.
Makes the list because... It was a bit of a toss-up between this version and the silent 1925 one. The 1925 version has a shot of a Roman prisoner tied to the top of the ship's battering ram while they're ramming the Roman ship, screaming as he's rowed towards oblivion. It's pretty cool. But the 1959 version is just so well done, creating a tense, exciting sequence, the most terrifying moment of which has to be the increasingly fast rhythm of the drummer and the cry 'ramming speed!'

2. The Slaves vs the Masters, Spartacus: Blood and Sand, 'Kill Them All'
Are we talking World War Three here? No, just one rebellion in one ludus, but it would lead to a two-year war between an increasingly large slave-led army and the Roman army, so it's a pretty big deal.
Swords or pistols? Anything that comes to hand, really. But there are quite a few swords involved.
Bloodless carnage? I don't remember anyone's face getting smashed in, so by Spartacus' standards it's almost tame... No, not really, it's majorly bloody.
Do the goodies win? Define 'goodies'... (Crixus stabs a pregnant woman in the stomach. There are no white hats here).
Makes the list because... Spartacus was going to have to do something pretty epic in its season one finale to top 12 episodes of carnage, and it succeeds. Flashing between the immediate build-up to the battle and the planning stages a few days before until it's time to go all out and ending with our 'heroes' walking, bloody and determined, away from the ludus while Batiatus lies dying inside, this provides the spectacular burst of violence we'd been waiting all season for.

1. Romans vs Germans, Gladiator
Are we talking World War Three here? No, though it's implied this battle brings a 20-year on-and-off war to an end, which is quite something.
Swords or pistols? Swords and flaming arrows.
Bloodless carnage? No, though it's lacking the chopping-people-in-half shenanigans of the later gladiatorial combat.
Do the goodies win? Assuming the Romans are goodies, yes.
Makes the list because... After launching into frenetic, hand-held camerawork and close-up fighting scenes and seeing Maximus nearly kill one of his own men by mistake, as the battle rages on, the fight is slowed down and the music switches to a lyrical piece (I think it might be a waltz). Some might call it cheesy, but I love this scene and the slo-mo bit really makes it for me. That's the moment where the film reaches for a bigger emotional wallop, rather than just showing us men chopping each other up for ten minutes. It's the moment I fell in love with the film.

And the worst... I find the battle scene in Spartacus rather slow and dull, but the random pinky-red scene when Alexander is shot in Alexander probably takes it.

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Stargate SG-1: Crystal Skull

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Tue, 08 May 2012 17:26:00 +0000

'Crystal Skull' is one of my favourite episodes of SG-1, partly because I've had a fondness for 'out of phase' episodes ever since Geordi and Ro thought they might be ghosts in TNG's 'The Next Phase' but mainly because it's so delightfully dappy. Ever since I saw this episode, I've chosen to blame all unsolved historical mysteries (particularly the question of what happened to the Mycenaeans) on 'GIANT AAAALIENS!', in suitably ludicrous accent.*

The MacGuffin for this episode is a Mayan crystal skull and the aforementioned Giant Aliens have something to do with the Mayans. I know absolutely nothing about Mayan civilization other than that their calendar comes to the end of some sort of cycle in 2012, so I can't comment on anything relating to them - though I will say I'm pretty sure they never built any Egyptian-style pyramids, as seen on the alien planet here, only step pyramids.

This episode follows the classic template, on which the entire series is based, of a supposedly mad archaeologist's crazy theory turning out to be true. It has to be said, Daniel thoroughly deserves all the grief he goes through here, since he apparently laughed at his grandfather's Giant Aliens story while claiming that the pyramids weren't built by the Egyptians (and his grandfather was just as bad). Just as, in sci-fi and fantasy, all folktale creatures are real and all myths are true (albeit often in a skewed way - the gods usually turn out to be aliens), in SFF all completely insane theories propagated on the internet about the pyramids being built by aliens and the world ending in 2012 are also true. Needless to say, this is not the case in real life. In a way, the pyramids-built-by-aliens stuff isn't too much of a problem, as it's so obviously batty - more problematic are the more plausible but, from an historical and academic point of view, equally daft ideas that float around the internet; something Egyptology suffers from in particular, because it's so popular, and because mummies and pyramids lend themselves so easily to the crazy.

Since Daniel is temporarily out of commission during this episode, the team have to turn to their second archaeologist, Dr Robert Rothman. Over the course of three series, the show had been gradually evolving Daniel from the stereotypical nerd he'd been presented as in the movie. His allergies hadn't been mentioned since the pilot episode, he was fitting in more and more with his military companions and becoming more like Indiana Jones and less like Professor Frink and most importantly, between season 2 and season 3, he'd cut off his floppy hair and gone for a shorter, tougher style. When Daniel is indisposed in this episode and the earlier 'Forever in a Day', the writers take the opportunity to bring back the classic nerd in the form of Rothman, who seems to have even worse allergies and even more trouble communicating, and makes it worse by adding utter incompetence to the picture (goodness knows why the military hired this guy for a super-important, top secret assignment). I suspect the representation of Rothman is supposed to show how much Daniel has grown as a character over the past couple of years, but all it really does is imply that archaeologists are all huge geeks with allergies. Honestly, if your hay-fever was that bad, I'm not sure you'd choose digging as a career.

One of the things I like about these episodes is the way it makes 'ghosts' of regular characters. It's always fun giving a regular a chance to snark at everyone else when they can't hear him. The scene where Daniel listens to Hammond's phone call with his grand-daughter and hears how much he means to the general is lovely and there's a great payoff when it turns out that Nick could see Daniel all along and heard every word. I also like the metaphysical and philosophical crisis the characters are plunged into when they're forced to consider the possibility that they've died and are hanging around as a ghost. And I'm a sucker for a good ghost story in any form. (By the way, Daniel starts to think he might be dead because he isn't hungry or thirsty. Presumably he doesn't need to pee either, but is too polite to say so, even when no one else can hear him). The Giant Aliens bit of this episode is utterly daft, and I think we're starting to learn that crystal skulls as MacGuffins are not always overly effective, but the 'out of phase' elements, and some touching scenes between Daniel and his grandfather, raise this up and make it a solid, fun installment of the series.

All Stargate reviews

*Jan Rubes, who was in Witness, is using his own, perfectly sensible accent - my imitation of it is ludicrous.

Morecombe and Wise: Antony and Cleopatra

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Sat, 05 May 2012 17:05:00 +0000

One of Morecombe and Wise's most famous sketches, this 1971 14-minute skit stars Glenda Jackson as Cleopatra, Ernie Wise as Mark Antony and Eric Morecombe as Octavian.

The target of this sketch is, of course, Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra. Some of the humour is a bit dated, some of it is incomprehensible outside of Britain, but some of it is pure genius - particularly the Egyptian dancing and the reference to 'beauty like what I have got', delivered in grand Shakespearean style.

None of the sketch is really engaging with the ancient world itself, other than indirectly through stories made popular by Shakespeare, like Cleopatra and the asp. I always find it interesting to see receptions of the ancient world that are really receptions of Shakespeare, since it boils ancient history down to a few repeated components, which become the most famous incidents and characters from the ancient world. This happens particularly often in material from the 1960s and 1970s, presumably because after 1964's Fall of the Roman Empire, there were no major Hollywood epics set in the Classical world (there were other films - art films like Pasolini's Medea, or Sebastiane, or Fellini Satyricon, but not the big popular epics). These days, audiences tend to engage with the Classical world through well known films like Gladiator or 300, but in older comedy, Shakespeare is often the focus (and Cleopatra, of course) - at least until 1976, when I, Claudius came along.

Anyway, this sketch is deservedly famous, partly just because it's funny seeing an actress so well known for serious roles and for playing powerful Queens (Elizabeth I in Elizabeth R) speaking Ernie's lines. I love the bright purple feather-duster-style fan and the way Cleopatra dangles grapes over Eric's face, undercutting the classic symbols of decadence (so cliched now I can never take them seriously, even in otherwise perfectly serious scenes, like some of Maecenas' scenes in Rome). I also like the gag with Eric's shoes, which is one of those jokes you watch as a child and think nothing of, then watch again as an adult and suddenly realise what the joke was - with appropriate horrified reaction at the idea these idols of your childhood knew what sex was (don't get me started on the asp bit). Clips from this sketch quite often appear on comedy compilation and celebration shows, but thank you to whoever uploaded the whole thing to YouTube - it's great to see it in full!

Xena Warrior Princess: Been There, Done That

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Wed, 02 May 2012 18:23:00 +0000

I was writing an article on time loop episodes the other day, so I dug out this season three Xena episode, in which Xena is forced to live the same day over and over and over again, while everyone around her remains blissfully unaware of what's happening.

Although they've been around longer than the film (TNG's 'Cause and Effect' predates it by a year) these episodes are often known as 'Groundhog Day episodes' and the SG-1 classic episode 'Window of Opportunity' gives the film a shout-out. Xena, however, is actually closer to the plot of Groundhog Day than most, something it's able to pull off because of the pseudo-Classical setting.

Groundhog Day never explains exactly what was causing Phil Connors to repeat the day over and over until he got it right, though I can't help feeling some kind of morally or romantically inclined deity would be the only possible explanation. A few TV shows might be able to get away with an unexplained plot of that type - Quantum Leap, of course, and The X-Files could do a beautiful, tragic time loop episode ('Monday') with no explanation because it was all about unexplained phenomena. Most shows, though, can only get away with this sort of inexplicable mysticism once or twice, and for the sake a major and usually quite soppy plot point (magic snowfalls in California, people popping in and out of existence, that sort of thing). When it comes to a fairly standard plot of the week, there usually needs to be some kind of pseudo-scientific or show-logic-based reason for it (a spell, if it's that kind of show) with an accompanying, logical reason why whichever specific characters are able to remember the loop (if any) remember it.

Xena, however, is a show based on ancient mythology. Ancient mythology is largely driven by the actions of gods, and gods can do whatever they like! So Xena is able to ape Groundhog Day much more closely than most shows, though it provides a more logical and solid explanation for events than the film does. The female half of a young Romeo and Juliet-style couple (named Hermia, to carry on the Shakespearean theme) will die tomorrow, but Cupid agrees to let the young man live 'today' over and over again until a hero comes to put things right. Ancient Cupid wasn't in the habit of granting wishes so much as destroying people's lives by throwing his arrows around, but the logic of it works perfectly well (though we are sadly denied an appearance from Cupid himself).

Cupid's offscreen role as a plot device is the only substantial Classical reference in this episode. There's a wonderful moment where the young man says he didn't realise Xena was the hero sent to put things right because he was expecting a 'Hercules, or Sinbad' - which, anachronistic sailors aside, is a perfectly exasperating bit of potentially ancient sexism. When Gabrielle is wondering why the two 'houses' are in the middle of a feud she mentions that they both worship the same god, showing the usual lack of acknowledgement of the nature of ancient religion (everyone worshiped lots of gods so the chances of a religious feud - at least as bad as this one - were fairly slim, though it wasn't impossible). Mostly, both plot and tone are inspired by Shakespeare, mixed in with the show's usual pan-global, vaguely medieval aesthetic.

The episode is played as a broad comedy which mostly works, except that the tone sits oddly with the scenes where one main character after another drops dead. And although I don't like Joxer much, the moment where Xena actually kills him seems to be going a bit far, especially as she doesn't yet know what's causing the loop and therefore can't guarantee that it won't stick. As far as I can remember, I'm pretty sure Phil Connors only deliberately killed himself on his loops, and on SG-1, even when he knew he would loop again, the most drastic thing O'Neill did was resign and kiss Carter, which would be embarrassing but not fatal if the loop were to be unexpectedly broken. Because the episode so resolutely refuses to take itself seriously, it's impossible to take any of the characters' emotions or reactions seriously either. Having said that, Xena's slow breakdown and Gabrielle and Joxer's reactions as she starts to lose it completely are both funny and make perfect sense. And the loop where she kills the rooster is strangely satisfying.

Quotes

Xena: No, no, yes, no, I tried that, yes both ways, no, I don't know, no again. Are there any more questions? Good.

Disclaimer: The rooster was not harmed during the production of this motion picture, although his feathers were severely ruffled. However, a little gel and mousse straightened out the mess.

All Xena reviews

Fringe: Os

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 12:33:00 +0000

After getting a free DVD boxset when I subscribed to SFX magazine earlier this year, I've been working my way through seasons 2, 3 and 4 of Fringe (just in time to catch it's shortened final season with everyone else next year!). Few sci-fi and fantasy shows can get through three or more seasons without some kind of Classical reference popping up and I was delighted to see that Fringe was no exception.

(Some of this may not make much sense if you haven't seen Fringe. I've been deliberately vague about anything relating to the show's overall story arc, to avoid spoiling too much for anyone who hasn't seen it yet - up until the last paragraph, which is majorly spoilery, so don't read if you don't want to know. The show is worth a look, though it lost me a bit after, ironically, season 4's 'The End of All Things'. The moral here is, even if your cast includes one of the stars of The Lord of the Rings, it's still not a good idea to call an episode 'The End of all Things.')

'Os' is not, it has to be said, an especially good episode of Fringe. For one thing, we all have our personal limits for what we can or can't suspend disbelief for, and where the lines are drawn will depend partly on the nature of the show as well (for example I'll buy things in The X-Files, one of Fringe's obvious foreunners/inspirations, that I won't buy on Fringe, because The X-Files is based on the paranormal, not mad science). People floating around in the air is a bit close to the line for me - plus it looks a bit silly. (This is why the one plotline that totally lost me on this show, which I hope is not going to reappear in season 5, was the Porcupine Man. Utterly daft). The episode is also a bit clunky, and features a reveal at the end that both distracts from the rest of the episode, and means that some fairly significant character development was abruptly dropped and, so far, has yet to reappear.

What I did like about this episode, though, was its use of the myth of Icarus. The story of Daedalus and Icarus is one of the best-known Greco-Roman myths, and probably one of the most frequently referenced behind the all-time number one, Oedipus. Aside from overly obvious spaceship-naming (do not get on a spaceship called Icarus and fly towards the sun - it will not end well for you) the story is usually used to symbolise reaching too far in a quest for artistic or scientific achievement and suffering or even dying for it - 'flying too close to the sun'. Given that Fringe is based almost entirely on scientists destroying themselves and/or others (up to and including entire universes) in their quest for scientific advancement, it's just surprising it took them until season 3 to give the Icarus story a shout-out, really.

At first, it looks like Walter's direct references to the Icarus story in his dialogue are just a rather clunky way of trying to make the story more affecting. Formerly wheelchair-bound young men are becoming weightless, but if they don't stay tethered to the ground they'll float off into the atmosphere, in a literal rendition of the Icarus story - and if your story comes from a myth, this always gives it a level of kudos that stops the audience from saying 'hang on, seriously - floating people?' But then the story's resemblance to the Icarus myth is revealed to be even closer than just the flying thing, and that's where it gets more interesting, tapping into an aspect of the story that is often forgotten when it's reduced to the bare bones of 'don't over-reach or you might get burned'.

I can't help it - it looks silly. I draw the line in weird places.

Fringe is a show that is obsessed with relationships between fathers and sons and, more specifically, with the lengths to which fathers will go to protect or help their sons. (Other parent/child relationships get a look-in sometimes as well, and mothers and daughters start cropping up a bit in season 4, but fathers and sons is the focus). This is the driving force behind the show's overall mythology and it crops up in another context in season 3's 'The Abducted' and season 4's 'The Consultant' (though it's weirdly and inexplicably absent from the episodes following 'The End of All Things' - another dropped plotline that continues to annoy me!). At the end of 'Os', it's revealed that Stuart from Spin City has been experimenting on wheelchair-bound young men because he wants to help his own son, who is also confined to a wheelchair. It's at this point that Walter brings up Icarus again, not because of the rather obvious flying connection, but because the reason Daedalus built the wings in the first place was because he was trying to help his son, and the attempt backfired horribly.

In myth, the reason Daedalus built the wings was that he was being held prisoner on the island of Crete, and his son with him. He built the wings so that they could escape - so he wasn't just messing around with things we ought not to mess around with for the sake of Science, Art or the Betterment of Humankind, he was trying to achieve a specific goal to help his son (well, to help himself really, but his son too). In Ovid's version in the Metamorphoses, Ovid places an enormous amount of emphasis on Daedalus' love for his son, the tragedy of the boy (he's quite young in this version) getting carried away and killing himself, and Daedalus' grief at his son's death. Ovid then undercuts this by adding that the partridge uttered a cry of triumph, because the partridge was formerly Daedalus' young nephew Perdix, whom Daedalus murdered (except a goddess turned him into a partridge instead). This rather undercuts your sympathy for Daedalus, and implies that the death of Icarus may be the universe's way of restoring the balance after what Daedalus did to Perdix.

It's this aspect of the story - at least in Ovid's version, which is probably the best known - that really makes it a perfect fit for Fringe. Both Stuart from Spin City and Walter have worked on something to help their own son at the cost of the lives of other people's sons. In myth, Daedalus' callous treatment of someone else's son was balanced by the death of his own son, which is reflected in 'Os' when Stuart from Spin City metaphorically loses his own son as a direct result of his callous treatment of others. All this is, of course, building up to the climax of season 3, in which Walter's son has to die/be wiped out of existence/forced into another timeline/universe/whatever the heck was going on in the season 3 finale, to fix the damage Walter did trying to save him. Walter tells not-Stuart that the wings Daedalus gave Icarus ended up killing the boy anyway - just as his bringing Peter over from the other universe will ultimately 'kill' him. What I like about this is that it goes deeper into the story and pulls out layers from the myth that go beyond the usual 'don't over-reach or you'll get burned' message that gets mentioned so often. I always like it when more obscure or neglected elements of ancient myth are exploited in fresh ways, so for all the flaws in other aspects of the episode (for heaven's sake, just call it a katra already) that one line raised it from pretty bad to vaguely OK.

Rome: Death Mask

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 16:25:00 +0000

What with Spartacus and catching up on several major ancient world films, it's been quite a while since I've posted on Rome. When we left off, Brutus and Cassius had just met their ends at the Battle of Philippi, leaving Octavian, Mark Antony and Lepidus in control of Rome. We're approaching the point where things suddenly start to speed up due to the untimely cancellation of the series, but that will really start to take effect in episodes eight and especially nine - for the time being, we're still more or less on course. What this episode is especially memorable for is death of Servilia, which is dramatic to say the least.

We open with Servilia mourning the death of her son (Brutus) and refusing sleep, while her body slave tries to comfort her. The unfortunately-named Jocasta is weeping as well, because she's about to married off to Caesar's freedman, Posca. Atia has arranged the marriage for her, presumanbly as her final act of revenge against the poor girl for the whole orgy business. During the wedding, Antony eyes up the various attendant slave girls while Atia pesters him about marrying her (he puts her off by suggesting their wedding would have to be spectacular).

Events are interrupted by Servilia shouting at everyone from outside in the street. She's kneeling in the road while her body slave pours ashes over her head, chanting over and over again 'Atia of the Julii, I call for justice'. I'm sure the writers have dug up this little ritual from some ancient source somewhere, but I have to say it seems a bit implausible to me, and the longer it goes on, the more implausible it gets...

Eirene is refusing to have sex with Dodgy because she thinks it will be bad for their baby. The Godfather has much duller things on hie mind (if he's not careful I'll start calling him Boring again) and is making deals with various unsavoury-looking characters - one of whom is still working on seducing his eldest daughter using creepy-looking dolls.

That night, Servilia is still going in the dark and the rain outside Atia's house. By the following morning, Antony stumbles into a meeting with Octavian and Lepidus, horribly hungover from the wedding. Lepidus mentions that some people think the three of them are setting themselves up as tyrants, to which Antony says they should go look at Cicero's body parts nailed to the rostra - presumably to scare, rather than reassure, them. Octavian organises the splitting up of the Empire between the three of them. Antony gives Octavian Rome and the West and takes Egypt and the East. Octavian is not fooled by this apparently genourous offer, which gives him Gaul and the mob while Antony gets the money and grain supply, so the money is put in a single treasury and Lepidus gets given Africa to keep him happy (not including Egypt).

Servilia is, implausibly, still going and driving Atia mad (Atia also points out, quite correctly, that she wasn't the one who killed Brutus anyway).

Gaia refuses to obey Eirene's orders and when Eirene tries to hit her she physcially stops her so Eirene tells Dodgy to 'beat her dead', and he suggests that Eirene is somehow to blame, which doesn't go down well. Dodgy doesn't want to beat Gaia because she has some kind of relationship with one of their minions (it's very unclear whether he means the minion owns Gaia, or is just sleeping with her), but goes off to do it anyway. Gaia goes on about how Eirene is a mouse who doesn't deserve Dodgy while waving her breasts in his face. Long story short, it all ends in a violent sex scene including hitting, biting, scratching, gagging and whacking each other with pots. Gaia throws in some mad laughter for good measure. Dodgy feels guilty and insists it won't happen again, which disappoints Gaia, who threatens to misbehave again so he'll have to punish her some more. (At least she does correctly point out that he can have sex with his slaves as much as he wants, and Dodgy equally correctly replies that he can kill them too).

Over at Atia's (where for some reason everyone's eating at a tall table again), Servilia is still going, so Atia gives up and goes outside to confront her. Servilia, grey with ash by this time, curses Atia and then stabs herself, followed by her body slave, in front of the gathered crowd of people. Octavia buries her face, in case anyone remembers that they had a thing last season. 'Now that is an exit' remarks Antony.

Apparently mockery of Jews and their one god should be kept to an appropriate minimum because Herod is visiting. This is the young man who will eventually become Herod the Great, a character who could give even the nastiest, maddest, most bloodthirsty Roman emperors a run for their money. Rene Zagger does very well at projecting menace with very few lines, looking suitably ruthless and confident throughout. He asks Antony for help getting the throne of Judea in return for lots of gold and guarantees that he will keep the Jews in line. Posca demands a share of the gold but Antony refuses, as he wants to keep it all to himself - very bad idea. He needs Posca, who does much more actual work than most of the rest of them and whose loyalty to Caesar will not necessarily keep him tied to Antony.

Timon and his annoying brother are loitering, the brother yelling at Herod, whose monarchical ambitions he dislikes. Meanwhile, Maecenas is writing, while being fanned by a slave with a big feather fan. You can always tell how decadent or otherwise debauched a Roman or related character is by how much time he or she spends being fanned with big feather fans. Posca tells Maecenas about Antony and Herod's gold, in return for some money and anonymity.

Octvian is not impressed with this information. You can tell by the way he gets even more still and statuesque, and just chews his lip a bit. Maecenas claims he bought one of Herod's people, successfully protecting Posca, and Octavian demands his share. Octavian accuses Antony of trying to aggrandize himself, at which Antony pooints out that Octavian made his adoptive father a god, and therefore doesn't have much of a leg to stand on in that respect. General mud-slinging ensures, which Antony inevitably wins by yelling that he 'still f****ing your mother!'

Eirene is pleased with Gaia's behaviour since she was beaten and suggests Dodgy should beat her the same way every month, because TV writers love irony. The Godfather's eldest daughter sneaks out to meet her slimy boyfriend, whose friend (the rival making dodgy deals) has arranged to walk in on them. The daughter promises to do anything he wants as long as he doesn't tell the Godfather, so he gets her to spy on the Godfather for him.

Atia and Maecenas have got Octavian and Antony to sit down and hammer out some kind of agreement between them and Atia suggests that, to show everyone that they've made up and calm down the people, they should arrange a marriage between their two houses (meaning herself and Antony, of course). Antony agrees and Atia runs off in a state of exctiement, assuming this means all will go ahead as planned (and we get a quick shot of Octavia and Agrippa having sex, to remind us that that's happening).

Octavian stands and watches Antony and his mother having sex, which is pretty creepy. Atia natters on about their wedding and marriage while Antony tries to find a way to tell her the rather important information that he's not actually marrying her - he's marrying Octavia. The audience discovers this in the following scene, in which we hear the bride and groom making their wedding vows, before the camera pulls round to show us who they are. As Maecenas explains, since they're making a political alliance, Octavian wants to cement it by Antony and his wife having children together, and that's much more likely to happen with Octavia than with Atia. So they have a big plush wedding in which no one looks the slightest bit cheerful (except Maecenas), especially not Antony, Octavia, Atia or Agrippa. Maecenas observes that Atia seems to be genuinely in love with Antony, though he'd always thought she just wanted him for 'practical' reasons, and much of the audience is probably thinking the same thing.

Octavian tries to explain his thinking to Atia, adding that letting her marry her lover wouldn't be much of a statement of political unity, and Antony tries to placate her by saying Octavian wouldn't have anything else. Atia accuses Antony of loving power more than he loves her and does not respond very well to his insistence that he'll happily cheat on her daughter with her.

(Historically, Mark Antony married Octavia a couple of years later, but this has less to do with the series' cancellation and more to do with it's writing out his third wife, Fulvia, who went to war with Octavian while Antony was in Egypt, was defeated, and died a little later).

The wedding celebration moves out into the street, where there is a dancing man painted blue for some reason. Timon's brother wants to assassinate Herod, who is walking in the procession, but Timon refuses because he's fed up of killing, and then ends up killing his annoying brother in the ensuing struggle. How ironic.

Antony and Octavia finally make it to their marital bed, where Octavia lies - well, forward, actually - and thinks of Rome while Antony decides he might as well make the best of things. Atia wanders out into the street hearing Servilia's voice in her head and presumably wondering if the curse is taking effect. Meanwhile, Gaia buys an abortificant drug from a woman who helpfully tells her she won't taste it if she takes it in willow tea. End of episode. There's a character called 'pontifex maximus' in the cast list, which is inaccurate by the way - Lepidus was the pontifex maximus at this point.

This episode is largely about moving piece into position, and structured around two key scenes, the death of Servilia and the marriage of Antony and Octavia. Servilia's death is indeed quite an exit, suitably dramatic and memorable for a major character. The way she does it is so utterly over the top you certainly don't forget it in a hurry, but it's saved from becoming totally laughable by Lindsay Duncan's performance. Duncan absolutely sells the whole thing, completely committed, so that we believe that Servilia is absolutely committed to this curse - or, at the very least, final public humiliation for Atia. It's a fitting end to such a melodramatic character.

The use of Jocasta and Posca's wedding at the beginning to familiarise us with the wedding rites, so that the suspense over Antony's wedding can be dragged out as long as possible, is quite clever. The whole scene revolves around emphasising as much as possible the extent to which Octavian has hurt and betrayed his mother, demonstrating both his absolute ruthlessness and bringing out her softer side - as Maecenas observes, she obviously really does love Mark Antony, something that was far from clear in season 1 but has become increasingly obvious over season 2. Octavia and Agrippa get some screentime as well, but for the moment this is much more about poor Atia, who becomes giddy as a schoolgirl when she thinks she's finally for her way, and whose relationships with both Antony and Octavian are clearly permanently damaged by the end. Rather than the evil matriarch she started out as, she's becoming positively tragic. She's right when she tells Antony he loves power more than her, but the real tragedy is that he loves quite a lot of things more than her, and has never been quite as invested in their relationship as she was, though he obviously cares for her.

All in all then, this episode does what it needs to do to set things up for the end of the series, held together by two major scenes. It also more or less wraps up Timon's story, which is a relief because it was very boring, and sets up forthcoming disasters for Dodgy and the Godfather. A dramatic and interesting end to Servilia, but otherwise more exposition than anything else.

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The Cabin in the Woods (dir. Drew Goddard, 2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 09:00:00 +0000

SPOILER ALERT The writers and director of this film have been asking journalists and reviewers not to give away any details of the film. Thing is, this blog is for semi-academic musings, and those aren't really doable without talking about the film (besides, I'm not a critic who went to a preview but a paying customer, and the film's been out a couple of weeks!)

Certainly, the best way to see The Cabin in the Woods is to know nothing about it, so if you haven't seen it yet, go away and don't come back until you have. All I'll tell you for the moment is that 1) it's a proper horror movie - expect gore, albeit in relatively small amounts (I'm not sure how much, I had my eyes covered) and 2) it's absolutely hilarious.

Of course, if you want to know what on earth the fuss is about but don't like horror movies, read on!

Actually, I have to confess, I wasn't massively surprised by any of the twists and turns in The Cabin in the Woods. Partly, this is because the writers very sensibly put our two office boys, clues to what's actually going on, right in the first scene, so you have some idea where it's going. But more importantly, one thing I did know about this film before I went in was that it was co-written by Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard (a writer who worked on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel before writing Cloverfield). And boy, does it show, in various ways. The leads are a group of likeable teenagers. The dialogue is snappy (the presence of Bradley Whitford reminds us that Aaron Sorkin and Joss Whedon are the joint kings of snappy dialogue), and as I mentioned above, it's absolutely hilarious. The pseudo-military installation the last act of the movie takes place in is the Initiative from Buffy season 4, right down to the small cubic cells with big transparent windows. And the bad guys are a bunch of ancient demon-gods who've been around since who knows when, to whom a succession of teenagers must be sacrificed. All the revelations about what's really going on were very, very reminiscent of Buffy and Angel, especially the later seasons - the ones Goddard worked on.

Brother and I were both expecting something slightly more at the end. (Brother asked if there was a sequel and we agreed that, based especially on the final shot, Wrath of the Titans would actually make quite a good sequel, though it's a vastly inferior movie). We both thought that the brief reference to interference from 'upstairs' implied that in addition to the obviously unpleasant ancient gods 'downstairs' (demons? the Devil?) there was some kind of good force, a god or gods that were rather more benign, 'upstairs'. We assumed that the 'upstairs' gods were trying to end the ritual sacrifices to appease the 'downstairs' gods in favour of a more permanent solution (locking them up in Tartarus, perhaps? Killing them? Ignoring them until they go away? We don't know). In the end, the movie seemed to imply that this wasn't the case, and that the world was indeed doomed, but we like to think there was a Perseus or a Buffy just round the corner, ready to save the day.

The movie makes vague references to the ritual sacrifice of the young in many cultures, across the whole of history. In the Classical world, this only happened in myth (if there was any human sacrifice in the Classical world, it was of, e.g., defeated Gauls, criminals etc). In these myths, often, the young person or persons would have to be sacrificed because of a mistake the parents had made, and often they were sacrificed to a standard god who would be nice again once this particular offence had been sorted out. These myths, several scholars have argued, are explanatory myths that come from initiation rituals, where a young person goes through a symbolic death of childhood before marrying (girls) or becoming an adult male (boys, obviously). The classic example is Iphigenia: her father Agamemnon angers Artemis, so she must be sacrificed at a fake wedding ceremony, becoming a focal mythic figure for young girls on the point of marriage.

The best known group sacrifice from Classical mythology would probably be that of the children sent to be eaten (were they eaten? killed, anyway) by the Minotaur on Crete. The Minotaur exists because of the lust of the queen Pasiphae, and the children/youths/virgins must be sacrificed to keep him content. This would be the closest to the ritual portrayed here, and may have been part of the inspiration for it, but there's still that central difference that the Minotaur existed because of human wrongdoing (and was perfectly killable), whereas here. the implication is that the ancient gods exist independently of humans and may even pre-date them.

Of course, you could argue that any execution or fight to the death in the arena in Rome was a ritual sacrifice, which brings me to another point. This film was made a couple of years ago but there were financial and distribution problems, so it's ended up coming out just a month after The Hunger Games, with which it shares some themes. The constant references to voyeurism throughout the film and the importance of creating a good show (it's unclear who the show is for - either the gods or Sigourney Weaver) and the rather twisted method of having the kids choose how they die is all very reminiscent of throwing a bunch of teenagers in an arena and watching them fight it out (and by the way I still haven't seen Battle Royale, but I'm sure Whedon and Goddard have). The weird area the kids are trapped in is definitely reminiscent of a Hunger Games arena, and this film asks similar questions about how healthy or right it is to enjoy watching people struggle, making bets on how someone will die (it makes a direct reference to reality TV, and later Brother pointed out that all reality TV shows in which a group of people get whittled down to one winner are, essentially, somewhat gladiatorial).

The difference here though is that, while The Hunger Games refers directly to the idea that we are one step away from watching people die for our entertainment, as the Romans did, The Cabin in the Woods is much more about our habit of enjoying watching people pretend to die in horror movies - which clearly isn't quite as dire, though perhaps it's still worth wondering every now and again exactly what we're enjoying (I wonder how Goddard and Whedon feel about torture porn... actually I know the answer to that - Whedon mentioned in an interview in SFX magazine that he doesn't like it). The movie asks us to think about how healthy our attitudes to horror and to the victims in horror movies are (especially the oft-noted attitude towards blonde girls who have sex), and suggests we might want to re-think some of the cultural values these films reinforce.

Having said that, the writers obviously also love their horror, and the references to practically everything in the horror genre were great and very funny - and I'm not all that into horror, so I can't have caught more than half of them (though I was quite proud of catching 'We are not who we are', since I haven't even seen that film). I was mildly disappointed that, of all the possible horrible deaths our gang could have gone for, we ended up with zombies - I know they're very 'in' at the moment, but I just can't get that interested in zombies. I much prefer a good ghost story, or a scary vampire. (I really want to know what the locket the disturbingly-named Jules was about to put on would have conjured up).

The good thing about the zombies from my point of view, of course, was that they were summoned by reading Latin. Genre-savvy Marty begging (ironically-named?) Dana not to read the Latin was a joke straight out of Buffy (or The Mummy), but Brother and I laughed, and it's always good to hear a bit of Latin. If you want a magic spell or mystical incantation, Latin is your language. I also liked the sexy guy reading the Latin later on. Fifteen to twenty years ago, there would be one unattractive, nerdy character who might know Latin and who would probably die halfway through (or if he's lucky, halfway through the sequel). Now, though, being geeky (and wearing hot glasses) is more cool, so there's a stoner to play the nerdy role, and the sexy guy gets to be intelligent and read Latin (loved the bit about how the blonde hair dye is actually destroying Jules' intelligence as well).

There was a definite sense of Joseph Campbell and the idea of the mythic archetype around the roles assigned to the kids, but ultimately most of them are archetypes specifically from Western horror fiction and film, not of literature in general. The Fool is well known as an apparently universal archetype, and I guess you could make a case for the Whore. But this version of the Virgin seemed to me to be more the Final Girl of horror movies, signified by her little panties in her first scene that mark her out as playing the Sigourney Weaver role from Alien, with the anvil hammered in when Weaver actually turns up at the end. Similarly, I suppose the Athlete and the Scholar might be fairly universal, but these versions seemed more to be the classic version of the Jock and an updated, sexy Nerd from American horror.

Brother and I both really enjoyed this film, and I'd definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoys horror movies (though if you're reading this, I hope you've already seen it!). It's totally mad, but since I thought it was quite possibly the funniest thing I've seen so far this year, I was OK with that (and it was such a Buffy-type of madness, I guess it didn't seem that strange to me). I loved all the random little extra touches, from the Japanese girls who manage to defeat the evil wet-haired girl ghost to Tom Lenk (who played Andrew on Buffy), as an intern, seen in the bottom corner on a TV screen as all heck breaks loose in the facility, holding up cards with something written on them. And whatever the writers intended, I like to think the world didn't end at the end of the film. I'm sure Percy Jackson can take care of it...

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Yes Minister: The Greasy Pole

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 20:04:00 +0000

Another classic bit of poking fun at Classics and Classicists from Yes, Minister. Like most Classics-based jokes in this series, much of the humour here comes from the idea that knowledge of Classics is an entry ticket into Britain's elite, but otherwise almost completely useless.

In this episode, Minister for Administrative Affairs Jim Hacker wants to authorise the opening of a new chemical plant, which will use a chemical called metadioxin. This has upset the local MP from the plant location, because the name of the chemical sounds like a toxic chemical, dioxin, of which metadioxin is an inert compound. The following conversation takes place:

Unfortunately, this clip leaves out the funniest bit, which comes just after; the MP asks what 'inert' means and Sir Humphrey replies that 'it means it's not... ert.' He explains that he doesn't know any chemistry because he went to school on a Classics scholarship (which is an interesting tidbit about Humphrey's background in itself). (I should add that my Double Science GCSE did teach me enough to have a vague idea what 'inert' means).

Hacker's non-Classics-based education at the LSE doesn't come up during this conversation but don't worry, Bernard brings it up later in the episode.

Once again, Yes, Minister demonstrates how entrenched Classics was in the functioning of the British political elite (and may still be - I like to think things have changed, but given that almost nothing in British politics has changed since Yes, Minister was made, probably not). Humphrey and Bernard, Oxbridge-educated, sneer at Hacker and his colleague over their lack of Classical knowledge and use it as a tool to reinforce their own sense of superiority. However, as always, their efforts are undercut by the complete practical uselessness of the subject. They may know all there is to know about the ablative, but they have absolutely no idea what the chemical they're planning to expose half of Merseyside to actually is.

This episode does highlight one area in which Classics is, perhaps unexpectedly, useful, though. Some years ago, I was made reserve for Birmingham's University Challenge team. University Challenge is a British quiz show in which teams from different universities (or, somewhat to the annoyance of the rest of us, just different Oxford and Cambridge colleges) compete against each other. I think the idea was to test whether university students were really learning anything, but as far as testing what you learn on a degree goes, the show is completely irrelevant, because what it actually tests is general factual knowledge. If you take an Arts and Humanities degree, you're not actually there to learn when Caesar was assassinated or how many books Charles Dickens wrote - you're learning how to read a document or novel or painting etc and analyse why it's written the way it is, how different people read it and to learn why you should never trust any supposedly accurate report of anything ever. I don't know much about Science degrees, but I assume they teach you how to formulate and test hypotheses, not just the names of all the chemicals.

Anyway, what University Challenge tests is factual knowledge. The questions are sometimes a little biased towards the Arts and Humanities, which may seem rather unfair, but there is a reason for it. Each team has only four members, so you're not likely to have someone from every field of science (though you could perhaps have, broadly, a chemist, a physicist, a biologist and a medical student or something like that). When it comes to general knowledge, a scientist is much more likely to happen to know something about Shakespeare than an English Literature student is to know something about the inert gases (see, I do remember something from my GCSEs!).

The University of Birmingham University Challenge team, 2007

There are some science-based questions though - and that's why, quite frequently, at least one member of the team will be a Classicist. It's certainly how I managed to become reserve team member. You see, sometimes, the question will ask something about a Greek letter, or about the meaning of a word made partly of Greek and Latin - and if you're a Classicist, you can make a decent guess at the answer (especially if it's 'which Greek letter is used to stand for "micro"' or something like that). Humphrey makes a bit of a hash of 'metadioxin' here, partly because he over-thinks it, and partly because in this particular case the Greek word doesn't seem to bear much relation to the thing it's naming (though presumably it is a compound including dioxin, so 'with dioxin'). But on the whole, this can be quite an effective strategy, and can cover a good few science questions even if you don't have a scientist on your team.

So the moral of the story is, Classics is not necessarily overly useful in terms of understanding how chemistry works, but it comes in handy in any kind of general knowledge-based quiz!

Yes, Minister: The Bed of Nails
Yes, Prime Minister: The National Education Service

Alexander (dir. Oliver Stone, 2004)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 20:58:00 +0000

I don't quite know what to say about Alexander. I feel vaguely like there's a good film trying to get out, somehow - but it hasn't quite managed it.

The portrayal of Olympias is interesting. Her relationship with Philip is perfectly plausible and actually fairly intriguing, but it's the emphasis on her as foreign and exotic that's noteworthy. The business with the snakes is presumably inspired by the stories about Philip seeing her sleeping by a snake around the time she conceived Alexander - which were meant to imply that Alexander was the son of a god, usually Zeus. She's portrayed as foreign and exotic, with a pseudo-mid-European accent (as opposed to all the others who have... Irish accents. Hmm. I'll get to that). But although young Alexander refers to all of them as Greeks, Olympias is actually the only Greek - the others are all Macedonians. Since Aristotle, also Greek, has an English accent, logically, so should Olympias (though to be fair, she may have been from a different city-state, I can't remember offhand). In Greek terms, everyone else are the barbarians - she's the Greek. That wouldn't fit Stone's insistence of filming her as an exotic, almost witch-like villainess though. She insists that Alexander is Zeus' son, whereas in reality it's more likely he came up with that idea, or it seems that way to me anyway.

The use of Irish accents for the Macedonians, presuambly resulting from Colin Farrell having trouble doing anything else, results in some rather unfortunate playing into stereotypes. Just as the Greeks characterised Macedonians as semi-barbaric, alcoholic, violently-inclined thugs, as Val Kilmer as Philip literarlly throws Olympias around in a drunken rage, with red hair and bellowing in an Irish accent, the portrayal plays into all those stereotypes of the Irish that Americans seem so fond of. I suppose I should admire the synchronicity of the way the ancient Greek prejudice against Macedonians is directly reflected in the modern prejudice against the Irish, the two nations both related, both speaking the same language but it different dialects, the one displaying a certain scorn towards the other. But, being more-than-half-Irish myself, I just find it annoying I'm afraid.

This film is very oddly structured. It entirely skips over Alexander's conquest of Greece and Egypt, heading straight to the battle of Gaugamela and the conquest of Persia. Military history isn't really my forte, so my reaction to the battle of Gaugamela is as follows - yay, camels! And shouldn't the Greek hoplites be standing closer together? Also, there seems to be more blood in the hospital after the battle than during the battle itself.

I quite like the scenes showing Philip and Alexander bonding a little bit, as Philip teaches him some particularly pertinant Greek myths (Oedpius! Medea! I wonder how they may turn out to be relevant to the plot...). Some of the wall paintings Philip shows Alexander look weirdly like they're styled afrter Picasso or something though, which is odd. The interpretation of Achilles and Patroclus' relationship as described in the film fits how it was interpreted in classical Athens, so accurate historically (though I disagree on the interpretation of Homer).

Ptolemy asks why Alexander took Roxanna as his wife and the audience want to ask the same thing - he's had a big row with his mates about her, but she hasn't had so much as a line of dialogue at that point to show us why he's so taken with her. We've been told she loves him and he seems strangely obsessed with her, but all we've seen them do together is he's watched her dance. They have a less close relationship than Herod Antipas and Salome. Surely it wouldn't have been too much to hear a single conversation between them, or see them relate to each other in some way before Alexander marries her against advice and much to the chagrin of Hephaestion?

I rather like the story between Alexander and Hephaestion, a tragic love story in which they love each other but Hephaestion has to be cast aside for a woman who can bear him sons (hopefully). It's not entirely appropriate for an ancient Greek context, of course. In Classical Greece, a man could marry and have a wife and sons, and have a homosexual relationship with another man alongside quite happily. In Athens, it would be expected that these relationships would only be with younger men, teenagers, but perhaps in other cities, like Sparta, it could be with men of the same age. The ancient world did not have separate terms for 'heterosexual', 'homosexual', 'bisexual' and so on. There was sex - you have it with wives to produce children, with captives to demonstrate power, with boys/men (depending on city-state) for love/lust/affection. Or you're Plato and you try to argue for the superiority of a meeting of minds.

The bit where everything gets tinted red is pretty weird, but I think it's supposed to symbolise Alexander's disoriented state after being shot. Or something (I'm watching the director's cut). Certainly, Ptolemy solemly tells us it was Alexander's bloodiest battle (except it looks kind of pink, so essentially it seems to suggest that Alexander's army is made up of Klingons). I think Stone might be trying to tell a story about hubris - but hubris in the modern sense, as in terrible pride before a big fall (hubris in an ancient Greek context is very hard to define, but refers broadly to a crime against the gods, that dishonours the gods as well as human beings).

The trouble with this film is, it's far too long, the structure is confusing and none of the characters are really likeable enough to hold the interest. By the time you get to the end, you just want first Hephaestion and then Alexander to just die already (and what's he dying of anyway? Syphilis?). The fact the story was told by Ptolemy is kind of nice, as it was his account that was a major source for the surviving biographies, of Arrian in particular. But that's not enough to save it from it's central problem of being just a bit dull. Which, considering it's about a man who conquered half the known world by the age of 33, is probably unforgivable. And I haven't even mentioned that wig...

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Top Five Parties for Grown Ups

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 17:15:00 +0000

Or orgies, obviously, but I figured I'd be a bit cautious with the title - after all, I also review children's literature on this blog.

At the CA conference this week, Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones, Jo Paul and Monica Cyrino delivered a fascinating panel on the history of orgies on screen. Lloyd pointed out that the tradition of the screen orgy started with Biblical films' portrayals of Babylon, but became part of popular culture's view of Rome through early films like The Sign of the Cross, focused on Nero's court. (None of the orgies popular culture is so fond of are really historical - there are some rumours about exciting goings-on during Bacchic rituals and some Greek vases depict scenes of group sex at drinking parties, but nothing to match the institutionalised orgy film and TV like to imagine existed in Rome. If there ever were that many orgies, they probably took place in Greece, that's where the pots come from).

These days the orgy is found most often, though not exclusively, in a Roman setting, and it's practically obligatory to include one in any film or TV series aimed at anyone over the age of fifteen (there are no orgies in The Roman Mysteries, I'm glad to say. Just a couple of people 'very kissing'). These five are some of the most interesting, extreme or plain funny.

5. Rome, 'Heroes of the Republic'
Context: While Octavian is busy taking over the world, his friend Maecenas and his sister Octavia are living it up at what is, perhaps surprisingly, Rome's only full-on Roman orgy.
Any historical basis to it? No, not really. Maecenas was pretty fond of poetry and probably of parties, but orgies is taking it a bit far.
No Sex Please, We're British! Romans usually speak The Queen's Latin, so the Roman orgy is in some ways an example of British characters engaging in all sorts of sexual naughtiness combined with excessive luxury, just without the need to pretend it didn't happen the next morning. In this particular case, however, although sex seems to be happening, it isn't really the main point of the scene. The focus is more on the orgy as a conduit for teenage rebellion, and rather than sleeping with the other guests, Octavia is indulging in drugs that seem to have a similar effect to LSD (the walls are melting). It's really more of a hippie vibe than the usual orgy - free love and sex is definitely happening, but the drugs and general air of letting go are more important for the development of Octavia's character.
Should I RSVP? It doesn't look that exciting a party, really. The best thing about this orgy, and the reason it makes the list, is the scene that follows, as Agrippa drags Octavia home and she has to admit 'I was at an orgy, Mother.'

4. True Blood, 'Shake and Fingerpop' and season 2 in general
Context: Maryann the several-thousand-year-old maenad exerts her influence over nearly everyone in the town of Bon Temps, causing them to put in black contact lenses and have lots of fully naked outdoors sex with each other.
Any historical basis to it? More than most, as there were various rumours about what maenads got up to and they had a bit of a reputation. The ancients probably exaggerated though, for the same reasons we do, and since the cult of Bacchus/Dionysus was a mystery cult, we'll never know for sure.
No Sex Please, We're British! These aren't British, they're American (though presumably Maryann was originally Greek). And they have lots and lots of sex. There's so much nudity you become immune to it pretty quickly and the whole thing has a rather nasty, cheap feel, made worse by the fact that, since they don't know what they're doing and haven't given consent, the whole town is essentially being raped together.
Should I RSVP? Depends on your preferences, really. If you'd like to have sex with several of your neighbours in someone's back garden, sure. Otherwise, no.

3. Chelmsford 123, 'Peeled Grapes and Pedicures'
Context: The Britons have heard about the feast of Saturnalia, and decide it's time to enjoy some of the benefits of being occupied by the Romans.
Any historical basis to it? The Saturnalia was an opportunity for drinking, feasting and giving the slaves a night off, but the Romans were no more likely to use it as an excuse for a sex party than modern Westerners are to decide to indulge in a key party for Christmas.
No Sex Please, We're British! Actually, lots of sex please, we're British! This episode exploits the other side of the British-Sex-Stereotypes coin, drawing on the tradition of drunken British louts and losers out to get some that comes from 1960s sex comedies, 1980s and 1990s laddish comedies and, well, the behaviour of quite a lot of British young people in Ibiza. This episode is as much about British tropes as Roman ones, which makes it quite a nice subversion of the tradition of the orgy, in a way. And a British sit-com set in ancient Rome could hardly avoid having an orgy at some point.
Should I RSVP? Not if you're a Roman, as Badvok will take advantage of the holiday to depose you and make himself King.

2. Spartacus Blood and Sand, 'The Red Serpent' onwards
Context: We meet Batiatus and Lucretia, in the middle of an orgy. The first of many.
Any historical basis to it? There's no evidence pointing to lanistas using their homes as party-houses/very cheap brothels in an attempt to get more sponsorship for their gladiators, no. On the other hand, there's not much evidence about lanistas' private lies at all, as the elite authors weren't all that interested in them, so who knows?
No Sex Please, We're British! There's lots of sex. Lots and lots and lots of sex. Interestingly, in the prequel series Gods of the Arena, we see a much more contained Lucretia and Batiatus, more likely to engage in a private threesome with only their slaves to watch, and Lucretia displays extreme reluctance when ordered to pimp out her slaves to rich callers as if she was a madam and they were prostitutes. The rape of her slaves is also depicted as thoroughly unpleasant. In this first season, though, the slaves are used all the time with little concern for their welfare and Lucretia and Batiatus seem quite happy for their home to resemble a brothel. This seems to be a combination of in-story character development (Lucretia and Batiatus are slowly increasingly corrupted in their desperate attempts to satisfy their ambitions) and external show-running (perhaps it occurred to the writers that they really ought to take the constant sexual abuse of the slave characters a bit more seriously).
Should I RSVP? Again, it depends on your tastes. If you're a slave, you're probably better off slaughtering Batiatus and his family and starting a rebellion.

1. I, Claudius, 'Hail Who?'
Context: Caligula, increasingly unbalanced, opens a brothel in the Imperial Palace. Attendance is mandatory.
Any historical basis to it? Suetonius says Caligula opened a brothel in the Palace to make money. But to be fair, Suetonius says a lot of things. He's a big old gossip.
No Sex Please, We're British! There's lots of sex (shown through kissing and the removal of clothes, because this is the 1970s, but you get the gist). Not everyone is happy about it though.

Should I RSVP? I wouldn't. This scene is top of the list because, while the others represent antiquity as a hotbed of sin and vice for the audience to enjoy vicariously, the orgy here is a traumatic event and a sign of the instability of the regime, coming at the beginning of the episode in which Caligula is assassinated. Where other films and shows revel in the mad emperor as an excuse to see some flesh and indulge in sexual fantasies, I, Claudius presents Caligula as a rather sad, though undeniably dangerous, figure. His orgy is half full of people who want to be there, but the other half are forced to be there, including a woman, rescued by Claudius, who's only just given birth, which is pretty disturbing (and this was pre-Spartacus: Blood and Sand, of course). The atonal music in the background, the content that, for the 1970s, was fairly shocking and Caligula's absolutely unhinged threats to Claudius and others make this a party you do not want to attend.

(Dis)Honourable mention: I haven't seen Caligula. I'm sure the orgies in that film are... quite something.

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Titanic (dir. James Cameron, 1997) (in 3D)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 11:46:00 +0000

There's a decent risk that the following admission will lose me a whole pile of blog readers on the spot - Titanic is one of my favourite movies of all time. This isn't like the equally-worrying admission that I'd read Twilight, I'm afraid - that was a guilty pleasure, a piece of candy as Cleolinda Jones would say, the demerits of which I am more than happy to discuss at length. No, this is more like my well-publicised love for Star Trek: Voyager. Except even that, I am willing to admit, might have a few flaws. Titanic, however, was my very first cinema love, that film that blew me away, that turned me into someone who goes to the cinema any week she can rather than someone who'd only seen five films at the cinema in her entire life up to that point. I genuinely believe that Titanic is a great film which suffered an unfortunate backlash thanks to excessive success (no one likes to see someone else doing that well, except perhaps Star Wars fans) and, in my generation's case, a certain level of embarrassment among the girls because this film was the high point of Leonardo DiCaprio-mania, and among the boys, at the very idea of a soppy film starring Leonardo DiCaprio having any merit whatsoever. (DiCaprio himself had to more or less disappear for a while, poking his head up only to make The Beach, though all is forgotten now thanks to Gangs of New York, Inception et al).

Anyway, with the 100th anniversary of the sailing of the Titanic yesterday and the centenary of the sinking coming up on Saturday/Sunday (officially the 15th, but who really thinks of 2am as belonging to the following day?!), Titanic has been re-released in glorious, slightly colour-desaturated 3D. I'm not entirely convinced of the merits of 3D, but I thought Cameron had done a pretty good job here (hardly surprising from the man who made Avatar). All those fabulous shots of the ship sailing/sinking on the ocean look much the same, but smaller scenes made an impact, and there was one especially dizzying shot from the stern as it bobs about at right angles to the water, looking down past the rail to the propellers, the falling people and, eventually, the water that was especially impressive.

For me, though, it wasn't the 3D that especially drove me to the cinema to see it, though I enjoyed it and was curious about it - it was simply the chance to see the film on the big screen again. Titanic is a truly cinematic film and, as much as I love my well-worn DVD (replacing an even-more-worn VHS tape) it just can't compare to the cinema. The sound is something I'd forgotten about over the years - I don't have surround sound at home and the sheer immersiveness of hearing the ship creak and groan around you in the cinema is fantastic. The huge size of the ship is that much more impressive on the big screen and once it starts sinking, you become totally captivated in a way it's hard to replicate at home. Some of the individual shots, particularly of people drowning as the glass ceiling at the grand staircase crashes in, that I've become so used to from basically memorising the entire film over the years, regained a power and effectiveness they don't have in my living room. And when it's dark and you're wearing 3D glasses, it's harder for people to see you bawling like a baby at the screen.

They should really hire me to make those anti-piracy adverts for the wonder of cinema they keep showing before every film, huh?!

Anyway, the, ahem 'reason' (for which read, 'excuse') for blogging this film comes from the music the band play while the ship is sinking. Not 'Nearer My God To Thee,' which Brother reliably informs me is the wrong tune in this film (they play the American melody for the hymn, not the British one, which is featured in A Night to Remember and in our grandmother's old hymnal from the 1920s or 1930s). Earlier on in the film, while the boats are being loaded, the band play more upbeat music, to keep themselves warm and try to lighten the mood. One member wonders if anyone's listening and their leader, Wallace Hartley, encourages them to keep playing anyway. He tells them what to play next - 'Orpheus'.

The full title of the work this music comes from is 'Orpheus in the Underworld', by J. Offenbach, an operetta (which is, um a short opera. I think. Brother is currently unavailable to ask!). I'm not familiar with the operetta, though a quick glance at Wikipedia makes it look fascinating (there's a character called Public Opinion, and Orpheus and Eurydice hate each other). This specific section, 'the Gallop', is better known as the music for the can-can, and is lively, upbeat and cheerful, as all the music the band played except the last hymn was, to keep people's spirits up. There's a reason, though, that Cameron chooses this piece of music to be named by Hartley in the film, to draw attention to this piece among all the others (even 'Nearer My God To Thee' doesn't get name-checked, though perhaps it was thought to be famous enough anyway). And that reason is, of course, the myth of Orpheus.

I don't think the plot of the operetta is relevant here. The music is famous and the myth is famous but the specific plot of the operetta is not, so I don't think we need to worry about that too much. This is a clear reference to the broad outline of the myth of Orpheus, who goes down into the underworld to save his wife, but fails at the last hurdle. As well as being appropriate to the moment it occurs in the film (referred to as 'music to drown by' by Tommy Ryan as our heroes rush past the band) this has obvious thematic similarities with the overall story. Going down to the depths to retrieve someone you love, or pulling someone back from death, happens so often in this film it's almost a motif. When Jack and Rose meet, she is about to plunge down to the underworld, but he pulls her back. During the earlier part of the sinking, Rose descends into the bowels of the ship to retrieve Jack (though she will ultimately be unable to save him). Even Cal walks away from a boat and assured survival to go and get Rose, though possibly with slightly different motivations, and he dooms his valet rather than himself by doing so. And Rose is finally saved by the one man who comes back into the realm of the dead, surrounded by floating bodies, to pull her out and take her back to the living. The attention drawn to the fact that the music the band is playing was written for the story of Orpheus is not just a one-off joke, but a statement about one of the main themes of the film.

If you've never seen Titanic, give it a go while it's back in cinemas. OK, I'll admit, it's rather long (I went to the bathroom during Cal and Rose's fight, Brother during the discussion of lifeboat numbers shortly afterwards - just don't miss the soppy but iconic 'flying scene' right after that!). And it's deeply, melodramatically, romantic, and despite the film-makers best efforts, peppered with historical inaccuracies like the tune of 'Nearer My God To Thee', deliberate practical inaccuracies like the use of electric torches and dubious bits of artistic licence like the death of First Officer Murdoch (which Cameron actually said on the DVD commentary he slightly regrets, due to the hurt caused to Murdoch's family). And I was obsessed with A Night to Remember as a child, so maybe I just have a strange, morbid fascination with sinking ships and icebergs. But whatever you think of the film, it can't be denied that in the late '90s it was a cultural phenomenon and is therefore of some concern to anyone with an interest in popular culture, and you never know - you might be pleasantly surprised!

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Spartacus Vengeance: Wrath of the Gods

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 18:03:00 +0000

Spartacus' season finale is Dark. Literally - the sun was reflecting off the screen and I had trouble seeing what was happening at first.

As we open, despite their rather desperate situation, GirlFriend seems to have some faith in Spartacus still, jibes about his 'next woman' aside. Aw, sweet.

Gnomey has started regrowing his little beard again. Perhaps it's a Beard of Sorrow over the fact that Xena will never love him. Spartacus, Gannicus, GirlFriend et al save some of the Germans from Gnomey and his minions but GirlFriend becomes the first significant casualty of the finale, axed to death and expiring in Spartacus' arms. That saves me needing to come up with a new nickname for her (or start using her actual name). Spartacus decides he blames some random, while Some Random points out the whole thing is Spartacus' fault in the first place and they're all going to starve anyway if they don't move.

Spartacus decides the answer is to speechify for a bit about their advantages (higher ground) while DSG slightly more convincingly, if not more cheerfully, says you're never too weak to fight if the cause is worth more than your life. Spartacus insists on having the last word because he wants to squeeze a reference to the title 'Vengeance' in there. Meanwhile, Haldir kills one of the Germans who may have had some lines over the last few weeks.

Xena and PH seems to be heading for Rome - or Vesuvius - or Capua - or something. I'm genuinely not sure at this point. They're in a wagon anyway. Paris Hilton had suddenly rediscovered her affection for her husband since they killed a young woman together, and she assures Xena that she'll talk Haldir into arranging a dowry for her. Xena explains that actually Haldir has already promised her to Gnomey, but she plans to murder him (Gnomey, presumably) at Vesuvius. Which seems to be where they're going, en route to Rome. I'm with Xena, that's an insane plan.

Gannicus and some other random have a lovely conversation about exactly how long it will be before GirlFriend's body decomposes (the ground is too hard to bury it). Spartacus is feeling rather gloomy and is all out of bright ideas for how to surprise the Romans and it is generally agreed that they're all doomed. Doomed! Dooooomed!

Gnomey is waxing lyrical about the House of Ashur. He's interrupted by Paris Hilton and Xena (so... they were going home?). Haldir is more pleased to see her than he's been at.. anything really, since the series began. They really do make a great evil couple. He correctly points out that travelling around when she's about to pop is bonkers. On the other hand, she has a point about not wanting to give birth in the House of Death. Haldir says he can't defeat Spartacus without severe loss of men and Paris Hilton decides this is no reason to hesitate, so mass slaughter on both sides it is.

Before she goes, Paris Hilton tells Haldir that it was Gnomey who told Gladiator Groupie about her brother and set her on Haldir, because he wanted to get in with the late Varinius. Haldir's fine with getting rid of Gnomey, but he wants rid of Xena as well. Oops, that was a major backfire. This may come down to who Paris Hilton is hotter for, Haldir or Xena. That's probably a toss-up at this point, but I think Haldir will edge it.

Xena plays along with Gnomey, confident of his impending death (and if there's one thing I can confidently predict about this episode, I think that'll be it. Gnomey will be dead by the end of it). Haldir throws Seppius' bracelet at Gnomey's feet and accuses him outright, which naturally confuses Gnomey utterly. Gnomey offers to take his minions away, but Haldir offers the minions a big pile of money and of course they abandon Gnomey on the spot. Perhaps he should have speechified more.

Spartacus has finally been persuaded to do something abut GirlFriend's body but gets interrupted by the sudden appearance of Gnomey, offering terms for surrender, if they go back to being slaves (otherwise all survivors get crucified - which is of course what will eventually happen, but not for another couple of years). This offer of further slavery is not-so-politely refused but Crixus stops Gnomey on his way back (the 'oh bugger' look on his face as Crixus yells at him is really funny). Crixus decides their answer can be delivered in the form of Gnomey's head.

Since attacking unarmed men isn't Done, and since Gnomey is injured, Naevia decides she's going to despatch him herself in single combat, since he hurt her the most (and presumably she feels this is a fairer match, she not being a champion and all). Crixus is remarkably restrianed through the whole thing, though he looks fairly alarmed (and Spartacus looks like he's completely terrified on her behalf). Gnomey makes the classic mistake of thinking he's won while his opponent is still breathing and Naevia gets him in the balls, which is especially satisfying. Then she gets him in the throat, and somehow he's still talking. He's like a character in a musical who keeps singing while dying of tuberculosis. He manages one final taunt about his rape of Naevia before she chops his head off in three goes (at one point it dangles, like Nearly Headless Nick). There's a last panning shot of the bits of Gnomey on the ground, and he is finally gone.

Naevia looks extrememly pleased with herself, and Spartacus looked relieved. Crixus just looks shell-shocked. Spartacus is reinvigorated enough to go for another mad plan, which involves abandoning their only advantage, the higher ground.

Haldir is really quite pleased to see Gnomey's head brought back to him, which was exactly what he expected. Xena celebrates by chucking away the red wig he got her (she's wearing a very pretty dress in this scene. Maybe she's about to die in it). Xena waxes lyrical about how much she loves Paris Hilton,while standing unwisely on the balcony, oh-so-temptingly near the edge. Just as Paris Hilton is about to push her off, her waters break and she has to give up for the moment (baby-napping surely imminent now!)

Spartacus calls the most importnat characters with names to him (Number One/Agron, Gannicus and Crixus). Crixus cheerfully informs Naevia that they'll meet again soon, in this life or the next. Spartacus can't resist the urge to speechify once more before heading over a cliff, inventing the sport of abseiling. Gannicus and DSG have a moment. Aw. Spartacus reckons they're gods and the Romans will feel their wrath (have they been looking at the posters for Wrath of the Titans?)

Haldir fantasises about Spartacus' death while our heroes work their way through the Roman camp, starting with the sentries. Just as Haldir has produced a complete picture of his future bliss/world domination (he says 'I shall rise above all others' - no that's Caesar, he's coming next season) he sees Spartacus' signal to the rest of his men that it's time to attack.

Paris Hilton is stuck with Xena as a midwife because they don't seem to have a real one and the doctor went off somewhere, since the baby wasn't due for another few weeks. This is not going to end well.

Spartacus, Crixus, Gannicus and Number One stand and face Haldir and his whole army by themselves, which is pretty awssome (Gannicus' gleeful laughter is especially good). At this point, everyone else attacks the Romans from behind and out comes all the blood.

While Paris Hilton moans in an unconvincing way on the bed, Xena finally shows her true colours. She murders all the slaves, making a fantastic appearance in the doorway of Paris Hilton's bedroom, holding a bloody knife and with blood all over her pretty dress. She tells Paris Hilton there's no one left to come between them, looking impressively mad as she does so (it's the smile and the eyes). Xena explains that the baby is a gift from the gods to the House of Batiatus (ha! I knew it!). She goes on to perform a quick Caesarean section on Paris Hilton with the rather sinister note that she wants to unwrap the gift.

Lots of fighting, and DSG finally gets one wound too many. This is very upsetting. Gannicus agrees with me and goes into a battle frenzy which, naturally, involves damage to his enemies' faces. DSG tells Gannicus he and Wife will meet Gannicus in the afterlife, adding 'brother', and he croaks. That's going to be an uncomfortable postmortem reunion some day.

Poor Paris Hilton. I'm actually going to miss her, she'd got pretty interesting this season. And you can't help but feel sorry for her here.

Xena stalks off with the baby, still blood-spattered, while Paris Hilton crawls around on the floor, much as Xena did at the end of last season. Fighting continues while Xena stands dramatically on the cliff edge and Paris Hilton crawls towards her. Xena then somewhat unexpectedly throws both herself and the baby off the cliff - apparently the plan is bring Batiatus a son by plunging herself and the kid straight into the afterlife. Paris Hilton finally keels over.

Meanwhile, Haldir and Spartacus go mano a mano and, obviously, Spartacus kills Haldir. Sadface. They seem to have ended up back at the House of Death, somehow. Haldir points out that the Romans will send legions after him and Spartacus and his whole gang will all come to a sticky end eventually. Spartacus responds by stabbing him through the mouth because, obviously, face trauma has to be involved even though he'd already delivered a fatal body blow. Our heroes stand around in the House of Death while Spartacus speechifies about how they'll face all the legions of Rome. Everyone is very happy except Gannicus, who's just sort of mildly relieved (and possibly sane enough to know that that's not going to work as a plan). End of season.

Well, I always knew Haldir was going to die at the end of this season, but I was still sad to see it happen. I liked him. He was sexy. And he and Paris Hilton did not get nearly enough time to be gleefully evil together. Talking of whom, I wasn't overly surprised that she died (though I wouldn't have called it either way, she was a useful character) but I was surprised that after all that build-up, the baby died too. (Apparently. I wouldn't put it past this show to have the kid land on one of Xena's softer bits and improbably survive, but I think we should assume for the moment that it's dead). After going on and on about it all season, and including the revelation that it was Spartacus', it seems a strange waste to kill it off within minutes of birth. Maybe it really did manage some miracle survival...

I was very sorry to lose DSG. He's an historical character, but one we don't know anything about him beyond the fact he was a gladiator and he was one of Spartacus' subordinate officers, so the show had free reign to do what they wanted with him. I'm really going to miss him, though. The show will be the poorer without his awesomeness, his general sense of calm and the way he was able to project the idea that he actually knew what he was talking about some of the time.

GirlFriend's story had pretty much come to an end and Naevia is there to take over on the female ass-kicking front (plus German Blonde, who I am starting to think of as Glimmer from The Hunger Games, is still alive as well) so she was an obvious candidate to kill off. I hope, though, that the writers give up on their idea that Spartacus can never find happiness with another woman because he's still hung up on his wife. Howard Fast knew that this spectacularly depressing story needs something to provide some light and hope at the end of it, and Spartacus' wife and especially his child surviving him and escaping to freedom is how you pull it back from being the most depressing novel/film/television series ever made (except for maybe Das Boot. Or The Perfect Storm. Don't go to Wolfgang Petersen to be cheered up, is what I'm saying). I really hope Spartacus gets a proper love story with a better outcome next season.

Overall though, the rebels got off pretty lightly here (this will not always be the case...). They only lost GirlFriend, the German who may have had a few lines and DSG, plus Aurelia, Crazy Old Guy and the blonde woman in earlier episodes. All the other rebel deaths this season have been randoms. The Romans, on the other hand, have lost Haldir, Paris Hilton, Seppius, Gladiator Groupie, Daddy, Varinius, Xena, Gnomey Guy (if he counts as 'Roman') and that nasty rapist guy from Gods of the Arena. Basically, there isn't a single Roman character left that we know or care about. I think this may be something of a mistake - I would have left at least one alive to carry the story through to next season (probably Paris Hilton, annoying though she can be). Still, next season we get our introduction to Caesar and Crassus, so the boot will be on the other foot then. I very much doubt we'll see such a light body count (in terms of named characters) for our heroes from now on.

The most satisfying part of this episode by far was Naevia's fight with Gnomey Guy, which was awesome (and of course, I've been waiting to get shot of him for weeks!). I love Naevia and Crixus together, at least partly because theirs is the only romantic relationship that's been properly developed. I hope Naevia survives for a good while (preferably the whole series), we need someone to care about going forward. Also, Gannicus is awesome as ever (love his maniacal laugh going into a fight) and Xena's totally batsh*t insane look as she approached Paris Hilton, knife in hand, was pretty fabulous, only brought down by the narrative waste of her killing both the baby and herself.

All in all, a pretty good finale, but a little too high on the Roman body count for a show that needs to come back next season. Fortunately, Caesar and Crassus are safe (as long as Quentin Tarantino doesn't get his hands on an episode, I suppose!) so I look forward to at least three main characters (Spartacus, Caesar and Crassus) surviving the next season!

I'm going to take a few days off from blogging over Easter to go to church (a lot) and write a conference paper, so have a good holiday and I'll be back next week!

Quotes

Crixus: To shit with honour!

Naevia, after Asher says killing him will not erase her memories: No, it will not, but it is a f*cking start!

Spartacus, after killing the Roman sentries: We must move quickly, before deed is discovered. Well duh.

Spartacus to Glaber, having been (correctly) informed of their eventual impending doom: Perhaps. Yet it is not this day.

Spartacus to Crixus: Now we wil become an army

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Wrath of the Titans (dir. Jonathan Liebesman, 2012)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 11:30:00 +0000

Aslan vs Voldemort, Volume II. Titans Will Be Wrathy!

Here's some good news for a start - Cronos is a Titan, so there is an actual Titan in this movie. He doesn't Clash with anyone, but he does look pretty Wrathful, so unlike its predecessor, this film actually does do what it says on the tin. Many major spoilers for the film follow.

By killing off Io before the beginning (I thought she was immortal?) this film restores Perseus to his mythological love interest, Andromeda (though it's a fairly abbreviated love story, one kiss and a few longing looks is all there is to it). That's pretty much where its resemblance to actual Greek mythology ends. I could live with that more happily if it wasn't for the fact that, apart from one easily killed redshirt, Andromeda is the only major character who is female. At the beginning, when Zeus calls all the gods together, 'all the gods' consists of himself, Poseidon, Ares and Hades. No Athena, no Artemis, no Aphrodite. Without them, Andromeda is forced to take on aspects of all three (she leads armies - Athena - she uses a bow and arrow - Artemis, debateably - and when they eventually dig up Hephaestus, he says she reminds him of Aphrodite. I guess being very pretty and wearing impractical earrings into battle covers that one). Change mythology all you want, but don't take away my goddesses!

As for the rest, I've realised I'm going to have to stop whining about Troy killing off Menelaus because within 20 minutes, this film kills off Poseidon. Yes, the god. Yes, the being whose one defining feature in mythology, aside from superpowers, is immortality. That's where all the other gods have disappeared to - they've been killed. By the end, only Hades is left, and he doesn't have any power (what a statement about the universe! only the god of the underworld remains standing...).

I think, buried somewhere in here, is a really quite interesting story about the death of the old gods, something almost worthy of JG Frazer or Pasolini. Our heroes, as usual, refuse to worship the gods and by the end the world belongs to the humans, with all the gods gone, so there's literally nothing left to pray to anyway. Humanity has grown beyond gods and no longer needs them. Unfortunately, the (several) writers of Wrath of the Titans have neither the intelligence nor the logic of Frazer or Pasolini and can't quite pull this off (I was going to say 'subtlety', but to fair, Frazer's The Golden Bough and Pasolini's Medea are about as subtle in their 'religion belongs to the childhood of humanity' theme as being hit over the head with a cricket bat).

In this film, what could have been a very interesting reflection on the place of religion and the gods becomes a total nonsense that I'm sure the lead characters could have solved in the first five minutes. See, Zeus and the others are losing their power because people aren't praying to them any more, right? And the army want to pray to Ares, but they mustn't do that, because Ares has gone over to the Dark Side and wants to release Cronos - OK, fine. So why don't our heroes just tell the army to all pray to Zeus? Wouldn't that restore his power so he could defeat Cronos? Worth a try anyway, surely? But no one ever attempts this. Perseus (who appears to be the only half-human offspring of Zeus around - did Ares or already-dead-Hera kill all the others?) just insists, repeatedly, that no one should ever pray to any gods (also that 'there are no good gods', which is broadly true in this story, but a bit of an over-simplification). Terry Pratchett can pull off the delicate balance required to depict atheist or non-religious characters in a world where the gods are blatantly present and powerful (or, occasionally, reduced to the form of a tortoise, which is what I wanted to see happen to Zeus here) but again, these writers can't.

Oh look! A Balrog.

While we're on the subject of writing, this film contains quite possibly the worst dialogue I've ever heard. Yes, worse than Star Wars. In fact, one of the slightly more memorable lines is nicked right out of Star Wars ('I love you', 'I know', except it's a father and son saying it). Several times you could feel how desperate the writers were to say 'with great power comes great responsibility', but since they don't want to be sued, they settle for something about 'duty' instead. They do manage to incorporate some nice touches of humour, particularly through Agenor and especially Hephaestus, but beyond the jokes, the characters are flat and they say almost nothing beyond explaining the plot and reacting in a desperately obvious way to big monsters and so on. I couldn't tell you a thing about Perseus or Andromeda's personalities based on this film, other than that they both fight quite a bit and would prefer not to die.

Given this situation, the mostly stellar cast react in various ways. I'm not sure what their instructions from their director were, but based on the fact everyone's been allowed to keep their own accents, regardless of origin (so Perseus is Antipodean, he has an English son, Zeus has a distinctly Ulster twang and so on) I'm going to assume he pretty much stuck a camera on them and had them read the lines. As a result, Liam Neeson and Ralph Fiennes simply do Aslan and Voldemort. Neeson is strung up in Christ-like pose for half the film, so he's largely immobile, and he just goes for it. Full on Aslan. Fiennes has an equally flowy robe to swirl and instead of snake-like head movements, he has long snake-like hair to swish around, and out comes Voldemort. This is actually quite fun for a while, but then Hades does a heel face turn halfway through and suddenly Aslan and Voldemort are working together and repeating the word 'brother' umpteen times in case we've forgotten their relationship, and it all gets a bit weird.

In acting terms, Rosamund Pike and Bill Nighy are the stand-outs. Pike really goes for it. With very little meaningful dialogue and a blank character, she does as much as anyone could to bring Andromeda to life - particularly in her early scenes with Perseus in which she makes her feelings for him clear (though goodness knows what she finds so attractive in him). Nighy seems to have fallen straight out of a Monty Python film. He's the only cast member who puts on an accent (it sounds like Micheal Palin's Yorkshire accent to me) and he plays Hephaestus as a mad old coot living alone and talking to the fabulous mechanical owl from the 1981 Clash of the Titans. These are, naturally, the best parts of the film. He has a whole, hilarious, monologue about seducing mermaids that is allowed to go on as our heroes walk away and that I can't help feeling he must have improvised because it's so much better than any of the other dialogue in the film.

Everyone else more or less does what they can with the script. Toby Kebbell as Agenor is quite good, and Sam Worthington is Sam Worthington (I'll defend Keanu Reeves to my dying day, but I can't get worked up about Sam Worthington I'm afraid). The director, meanwhile, seems to have put all his energy into filming the various fight sequences as if he was working on Saving Private Ryan. He's obsessed with shaky handheld camera shots, extreme close-ups, clashing battle sounds and even that thing where you reduce the sound for a few minutes to mimic the effect of an explosion on our hero's eardrums. Except there aren't any explosions in this (except a volcano - they've seen Lord of the Rings as well as Star Wars) because it's set in ancient Greece. I wouldn't mind seeing some of these techniques, designed to make battle scenes feel 'realistic', in Return of the King or something like that - a fantasy film that's really earned the right to use them by making you believe in the created world and its characters, preferably over several hours. Game of Thrones could get away with it, if they could afford it on a TV budget. But Wrath of the Titans cannot. With cardboard characters pitched against daft monsters, it just looks silly, bordering on disrespectful to actual war films.

Rosamund Pike is actually pretty awesome in this, and almost makes up for the total lack of any other major female characters.

Essentially, this is a film where the director gets to play with battle sequences of different kinds for an hour and a half. There's no characterisation, the plot makes no sense and the one bit that looked like it might be really interesting was wasted. (For a moment, it looked like we might see our heroes taunted and teased by their dead comrades in the underworld, which would have been really cool, but instead Perseus has to run through a series of clashing walls for a while and fight a monster in a sequence that looks like it was taken straight from a Super Mario game). There is some humour and I laughed a few times, so if you enjoy watching CG heroes fight CG monsters and cracking the odd joke, you'll enjoy this film. Otherwise, it's probably not for you!

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Spartacus Vengeance: Monsters

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 19:59:00 +0000

Previously: Spartacus abaondoned Paris Hilton in the woods like a more evil Snow White.

The Artist Formerly Known as Tiberius and some doomed random are guarding our heroes' ruined-temple-squat. Not very effectively, as Naevia ends up having to wake everyone with a warning that they've been invaded by Roman soldiers. Except they haven't - it's Gannicus and Crixus, testing them. This seems like a pretty stupid plan, given most of these characters' tendency to spear through the face first and ask questions later.

Gladiator Groupie is moping by the bath, her unhappy state of mind symbolised by the camera starting off upside down. Haldir doesn't seem to have noticed that her attitude towards him has completely changed. He's also cheerfully confident that Paris Hilton is definitely dead - which is her cue to make a super-dramatic entrance, throwing open the doors like Aragorn at Helm's Deep, hair all messed up like an avenging angel, then ploughing headfirst into the pool in the atrium, since walking goodness knows how far with no food and little sleep while heavily pregnant is not, in fact, all that good for you.

She's not sure whether she's still alive or not when she wakes to find Haldir bending over her (the Romans didn't have a concept of purgatory, or I'm sure she'd have thought she was there). He's not at all happy, but he does take the oppportunity to pump her for information. She doesn't seem 100% sure if the writing she saw at the temple was Greek, which suggests she never paid attention to whoever educated her, because a well-off young woman in this period ought to know Greek. Haldir has also, rather untactfully, stuck her in a new bed so he can continue shagging Gladiator Groupie in theirs - though he points out this is hardly surprising given her previous behaviour towards him.

Spartacus' men are squabbling over whose fault the not-Roman-invasion was, and then they all fight over what weapons they should all use (I love the way Number One holds a warning finger at German Blonde when she insults GirlFriend in German). Spartacus is forced to defend letting Paris Hilton go without letting on it's because she's pregnant with his baby. DSG takes charge and things calm down, because he is awesome. Spartacus realises his speechifying is getting him nowhere - he is starting to turn into Buffy from Season Seven, which is not a good sign. But it's OK - he has a Plan. A cunning one.

Whatever it is, it's unlikely to help him with his current personal situation. It seems to be him who's done the dumping in his broken relationship with GirlFriend, over the attempted murder of Paris Hilton, and because she wants him to love her, which he doesn't. So they have The Conversation and she goes off to train more archers.

(By the way, someone asked me earlier this week if I thought there was a link between Katniss and Artemis because they both use archery. I think archery alone isn't enough of a connection - women, elves and children all get put with the archers in fantasy or historical fiction, because it's the most logical way to have someone smaller and not as strong fight a big tough man with a sword. Artemis/Diana uses a bow and arrow because she hunts, which Katniss also does, but the goddess does it for fun and exercise and because she's deliberately taking part in a traditionally masculine activity, rather than hunting for survival. Anyway, I'm yet to be convinced that there's much of a link there, but it's something I'll keep an eye out for, and that goes for the ladies of Spartacus as well).

Xena and Paris Hilton are reunited and seem genuinely delighted to see each other (which they probably are by this point - though I'm still suspicious of Xena's motives. She wants that baby, I'm telling you...). They catch each other up on all the important developments - the baby is Spartacus', Haldir and Gnomey Guy killed Gladiator Groupie's brother and Gladiator Groupie now knows it, etc etc. They both seem to have matured and grown and understood their past mistakes - it can't last. They cement this bond by plotting Haldir's potential horrible, untimely death.

Haldir and Gnomey, through a combination of plotting Spartacus' attacks and, even more helpfully, getting people to identify Crazy Old Guy's decomposing head, have worked out where Spartacus is and plan a final attack. Which is a shame because Spartacus, it turns out, has finally come round to Gannicus' way of thinking and sent Number One out to steal them all some wine. He gets a party going in which they'll punch out their differences in non-lethal slow-motion wrestling matches, to cheer everyone up, and finally, we get some genuine joy in these characters. Spartacus spoils it all by speechifying again, falling prey to what I'm going to call Buffy Season Seven Syndrome (constant speeches intended to build tension and bond characters, but which actually just bore the pants off the audience and even, in severe cases, the characters themselves). Since Spartacus' creator, Steven DeKnight, was a regular writer on Buffy in the later seasons, this may not be a coincidence...

At this point it was apparently necessary for Gnomey Guy to pick up the Idiot Ball and really run with it. He appears to have totally lost it, as one of the series' most clever and cunning characters decides to tell Xena, the woman he's been repeatedly raping, all his secrets. He tells her that he and Haldir will attack Spartacus that night, where they're attacking (at Vesuvius), what he's getting out of it (freedom) and he finishes the cocktail of idiotic gut-spilling by adding that, once free, he intends to force Xena to marry him and re-open her dear departed hubby's ludus with himself in charge. He seems really to think that they're having some kind of love affair. This does at least explain why he bothered to save her life at the beginning of the season, but still. It's far too dumb for this character.

Haldir's plans are interrupted by the return of Varinius, who tells him the Senate would like politely to suggest that he leave the Spartacus-hunting to someone better qualified and come back to Rome. Paris Hilton emerges to stick up for him, pretending she was never kidnapped (using a fabulously wispy-little-girl voice to do so). She shoots Varinius quite the look as she leaves though. With Gnomey not in the scene, Haldir picks up the Idiot Ball and lets slip that Spartacus is at Vesuvius, and Varinius plans his own attack, telling Haldir again to go home. (I gotta say, the area around Vesuvius is pretty big, so really only Gnomey Guy and Haldir, who have a precise location, should be able to find our heroes).

It turns out Gladiator Groupie sent for Varinius, who now refuses to believe that Paris Hilton was kidnapped at all and is doubting Gladiator Groupie's accusations about her brother - apparently she wants to prosecute Haldir in court, but Varinius refuses on the basis of lack of evidence. Gladiator Groupie is not impressed.

Back at the squat, the slow-motion wrestling is still going on and seem to be working, with everyone venting their anger on each other and then making up afterwards. Even German Blonde and GirlFriend work together to bring down one of the guys. Spartacus then puts Number One with Crixus against Gannicus and DSG. You would have thought these two pairs would hate each other far too much to solve it by beating the snot out of people together but amazingly, it seems to work, and even Number One and Crixus shake hands, while DSG and Gannicus grin at each other. Apparently, if you sleep with your best friend's wife, it's all better and forgiven if you beat up two of your other friends together. Men. Though since this gives us an excuse to see the quite fun spectacle of four of the main characters punching each other for a prolonged period of time, I suppose we should let it go.

Gladiator Groupie is much less happy, sobbing on Xena's lap about Haldir. Xena has given up on subtlety and just gives her a frickin' big knife to go stab him with. Gladiator Groupie really ought to consider why Xena is making her do this, instead of just doing it herself.

The soundtrack starts to get really excited as Xena and Paris Hilton run and stalk about the House of Death, dresses flowing dramatically behind them. Haldir is getting ready to leave for Rome, as ordered, and stripping off his armour (and everything else - woo-hoo, hello tackle!). As he goes over to Gladiator Groupie looking for some sex to take his mind off things, she whacks him over the head with a vase and then prepares to stab him - at which point Paris Hilton jumps her from behind and forces the knife on her instead, stabbing her and then slitting her throat. The camera lingers on the huge amount of blood spurting out from her neck for at least a minute while Paris Hilton waves around dramatically in the background. The director is practically screaming at us, 'Look! Look at this Important death! I bet that's not what you expected to happen, eh? EH?!' (Well, actually Mr Director, it was pretty darned obvious it was never going to be as simple as 'Gladiator Groupie stabs Haldir and that's it'). Gladiator Groupie falls in the bath and Haldir gets absolutely covered in blood but remains alive and well.

Paris Hilton tells Haldir they should give up on feeling affection for each other and just join forces to be totally evil together. She'd mentioned to Xena earlier that she'd give him one last chance, and have blood if he didn't take it - this is his chance. He takes it. They have some blood-covered make-up sex before Haldir rides out to fight Spartacus and show his quality.

Crixus and Naevia are also having some rather more romantic sex, as it seems she has started to recover enough to do so. Gannicus still thinks Spartacus will be the death of them all, but has cheered up because it will be a glorious death. Which is handy, because at that moment a signal appears to warn them that the Romans are coming. Spartacus summons the troops and gives them some hints on how Romans fight before leading them out and both the soundtrack and the director think they're in Lord of the Rings now, with a big pan over the (correctly pointy, as pre-eruption) mountain and swelling music as they leave.

Fighting happens. Our heroes get in the first arrows, then all Hades breaks loose. At one point they trick the Romans into thinking they're retreating, then jump them, which is quite entertaining. The Romans make it into their squat, but another group, led by Crixus, are there to meet them.

It turns out this particular group of Romans is led by Varinius, who is allowed to live because he's the wrong praetor. Spartacus takes him prisoner, steals all his weapons and just as they think it's all over, Haldir attacks them with fireballs (one of which soundly dispatches Varinius - face first, of course). Haldirs' troops are led by the random Egyptian from the well, I think.

As the battle starts to go really quite badly for them, it seems our heroes have an escape tunnel prepared and they start heading towards it (are they bringing a special sword and have they remembered the household gods?!). DSG gets stabbed in the hand and eye, though he still seems to be alive, and they all start heading for freedom while a full choir sings enthusiastically on the soundtrack (this isn't the wailing woman, this is a full on, mostly male voice choir, as if all the miners of Wales got together to make noise as one). Crixus, Spartacus and Number One glare angrily at Haldir and Gnomey one last time, and they run for it.

On their way out, however, they run into yet more Roman soldiers. They manage to escape up the mountain, but Spartacus has to give up on Haldir. They get away up a narrow path, which they manage to hold, and Haldir decides to starve them out. End of episode.

I've been assuming all season that we're working up to killing off Haldir in the final episode, and I still think that's probably the case (he's an historical character, but since we don't know what happened to him after he fought Spartacus, there's plenty of leeway - they've already divided the historical Varinius Glaber into two characters, Varinius and Gaius Glaber, anyway). But I'm even sadder about it than I already was. Glaber and Ilithyia deciding to just be totally evil together, more or less for the lolz but also for power and possibly some money is a fantastic scene. With her scheming and both of them throwing themselves into pure villainy with gusto, this is the sense of over-the-top, ridiculous fun that this season has been lacking (and I'm not especially mourning Gladiator Groupie while she bleeds out behind them, she had promise but not much bite in the end). If I turn out to be wrong, and these two survive to come up against Caesar and Crassus next season, I'll be very happy. He's pretty easy on the eyes, too. Even Paris Hilton doesn't really annoy me any more, she's too gloriously evil.

Talking of next season, I've noticed the body count has been significantly higher among the Romans than among our heroes this season (of course, that may change in the next episode's season finale, but at least a few of them are historical and will probably last out the year). I suspect this is a balance of sorts to last season, when they were dropping like flies both in and out of the arena, and next season - there's a particular historical event I expect next season to lead up to as its season finale, which I won't spoil for the moment. Season Three will also bring us a lot more unkillable Romans with well known historical fates, so I expect Spartacus' group to really start to suffer...

This was a step up - a lively episode with plenty of action, forward movement, some significant secondary characters getting killed off and most importantly of all, a sense of joy, fun and pleasure coming from both Roman and rebel characters. Long may it continue! Well, you know - into next season.

Quotes

Asher: Together we shall see The Rise of the House of Asher. I laughed out loud at that. I knew the House of Death wasn't done with murder and mayhem yet.

Ilithyia: We are both monsters, Gaius. Let us be so together, and seize the f*cking heavens!

Glaber, echoing the title of the Season One finale: We shall kill them all.

All Spartacus reviews

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (dir. Richard Lester, 1966)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Many thanks to Caroline Lawrence for giving me the DVD of this one!

Funny Thing is a classic musical film with songs by Sondheim, based on Plautine comedy (and, I think, an even better stage show). It's not adapted from any single play by Plautus, but uses elements that crop up a lot in Plautus' plays and combines into one new story. There are sequences added to the show for the the film, including chase sequences in small and fragile chariot-things and lots of physical comedy from Micheal Crawford - I was getting flashbacks to Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em through the whole thing. The performances are all great here, especially Phil Silvers and Zero Mostel. I love the section where Hysterium (dressed as a woman) and Pseudolus re-enact Hero and Philia's love scene from earlier in the film. The horse in the baths, brought in by Hero trying to collect it's sweat, is very funny too.

I also really love the opening (and closing) song, 'Comedy Tonight'. I remember (very dimly) going to see the play as a child, years ago, and that song was so lively and so much fun, it stuck with us for years and I can still sing the chorus. I'm not sure the opening sequence as a whole works quite so well on film. The film breaks the fourth wall all over the place, just like the play, but it pairs that with scenes filmed in a 'realistic' sort of way. During the opening sequence, the director focuses on little moments showing poor Roman citizens doing various things that mark them out as both historical and lower class. It's intended to draw the audience in a reinforce the fact that this is not about grand events, as the song lyrics explain. But the trouble is, it makes Pseudolus' address to the audience direct to camera look a little odd. It's also, of course, just not as infectious when the actor isn't standing in front of you in the same room.

Both ancient comedy and 1960s comedy have something in common - much of humour focuses on the objectification of women. Female characters are pretty girls lusted over by half the cast or old harridans everyone is trying to get away from. I'm sure no one would have batted an eyelid at the time, but it means the film hasn't aged so well as it could have, at least for the grown-ups in the audience. I remember one of my favourite films when I was little was Carry On Follow That Camel, but now, although I still enjoy the film, I always feel distinctly uncomfortable during the numerous jokes based on a woman being coerced into having sex without being asked, and eventually being drugged and dragged off to a man's hareem (though that one is at least viewed as a bad thing). Similarly, there are elements of Funny Thing that just don't quite play anymore, particularly the sequence in which four men sing and dance about how great it is to have a maid who's quiet around the house and fun in the bedroom.

(There's an excellent article on women in Plautine comedy at vroma.org by the way).

A similar issue comes up with the treatment of slaves. In Roman comedy, many jokes are made around the physical abuse (sexual, but perhaps even more often other forms of corporal punishment) of slaves. This humour is brought into the stage play and then the film, but the idea of a man being beaten or even killed for a minor offence is just not funny to me. Normally, I'm all in favour of a realistic portrayal of ancient master-slave relationships, which this certainly is, but I think it works better in a drama, like Spartacus, than in a broad comedy. In a way, I can take it better in actual Plautus plays because I understand the cultural context, but seeing these jokes made in the 1960s is rather more strange and perhaps a little disturbing.

There have been some changes made to placate a modern audience. Pseudolus, a slave, wants his freedom and the film ends with him being freed. In Plautine comedy, slaves show little interest in winning their freedom, and it only usually happens when a virgin-prostitute is proved to be a free-born girl kidnapped as a child, as Philia is in the film. Plautus' slaves, despite the beatings, are reasonably happy - for a twentieth-century audience however, the only truly happy ending for a story about a slave is to see them freed (though Hysterium is still a slave of course). It's good to see some allowance made for modern sensibilities, and since a number of Roman slaves were freed, it's perfectly historically plausible as well.

There are some less plausible elements. One character insists that it's against Roman law to take one's own life, which is clearly not true - one of the things the Romans were most famous for is their attitude towards suicide and the necessity of suicide in the face of shame or execution (though they might have disapproved of the idea of killing yourself because you can't marry a slave girl from next door). Even more ludicrously, at one point it's claimed that there's a human sacrifice scheduled at the temple of the Vestal Virgins. I'm not sure whether this or Carry On Cleo's depiction of a Vestals as reminiscent of a sex-less harem wins the prize for most ridiculous interpretation of the Vestal Virgins ever, but it's pretty close. The weird dancing and singing at the funeral is pretty strange as well - somehow it looks more like it belongs in a film by Pasolini or Fellini than a comedy.

Buster Keaton is in it too! That's pretty cool.

Despite a few problems, Funny Thing is an enjoyable film. It has catchy tunes and likeable characters. It's also probably the closest you'll ever get to experiencing an ancient form of drama the way the ancients did (since we rarely - though not never - see Greek tragedy complete with masks and the Chorus hardly ever sing). Funny Thing may not represent the plot of a specific play, but just about all the elements of Plautine comedy are here, so if you want to experience a genuine bit of Roman entertainment, you can't do much better than this without hiring some actual gladiators. And that title song is just brilliant!

More film reviews

The Hunger Games (dir. Gary Ross, 2012)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Sat, 24 Mar 2012 18:53:00 +0000

I have seen the film version of The Hunger Games, and it is awesome. Major spoilers for the film and all three books below so don't read on unless you've seen the film and read all three books.

To start with the obvious, Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss is absolutely brilliant. She completely captures Katniss' character from the books while making her a likeable and relatable screen presence (not easy with such an introverted character). Everyone else is great too, especially Woody Harrelson as Haymitch (perfect casting), Lenny Kravitz as Cinna and Stanley Tucci and Toby Jones as Caesar Flickerman and that Claudius guy. Both the boys are good too, and Josh Hutcherson is brilliant at doing Peeta's interview routine, looking effortlessly charming in front of the cameras.

I only have one problem with the casting of the guys. In the books, I always felt that Katniss and Peeta were obviously going to end up together, she clearly fancied him (though she was in denial) and Gale was never really on my radar except when shoved there - his crush on Katniss was the one that always felt one-way to me. But in the film, it seems to me that Liam Hemsworth and Lawrence have much better chemistry than Lawrence and Hutcherson, whose romance feels genuinely fake rather than fake-but-actually-genuine (if that makes any sense at all!). Also, to put it frankly and with no offence meant to the actor, I think Hemsworth is quite a bit sexier than Hutcherson. So that was a little bit problematic for me - I want to root for Katniss and Peeta (I refuse to use the word 'team' in this context) but the movie keeps pushing me towards Gale.

The other reason Gale makes more of an impact in the film, of course, is that we see a bit more of him. Because the film isn't told solely from Katniss' point of view, we see Gale watching her and Peeta in the Games, as well as seeing him again at the end, which goes right up to her return to District 12. For the most part, this adaptation is faithful to the point of being too faithful - I like to see something unique to film in an adaptation, like the staircase sequence in Fellowship of the Ring - something that makes me sit up and take notice because I don't know exactly what's going to happen and how, and something that can only effectively be done on film. Still, in addition to cutting the odd minor character, where the film does make slight alterations it does so very well, using the new medium to expand the story a little bit. So, we see Haymitch trying to get sponsors for Katniss, we see a lot more of President Snow and his threats towards Seneca, we see rioting in District 11. We also get Caesar and Claudius as kings of exposition, explaining what trackerjackers are to the TV audience in a way that feels seamless and natural, while flashbacks to Katniss' past are slotted into the hallucinogenic sequence that follows.

The only change the film makes that isn't basically cosmetic (removing unnecessary characters, moving exposition etc) is a particularly interesting one. At the beginning of the film, Gale tells Katniss that if no one watched the Games, that would be an end to them and at no point does anyone state that watching the Reaping or the Games is mandatory. Unlike in the books, beyond the Capitol, the people in the Districts are not being forced to watch the Games, they choose to. This is quite a different thing, making them at least partly culpable in their childrens' fates and reinforcing the central reality-TV metaphor - we know vulnerable people shouldn't be exploited for entertainment, but as long as we keep watching, it will keep happening. It also makes it much closer to Roman gladiatorial games. No one in ancient Rome was forced to watch people fight to death. They wanted to, indeed, they demanded it. The real culprits, the reason the Games happen, are the people in the audience.

The Roman theme isn't, otherwise, overly emphasised. The Capitol's logo is suitably Roman, heavily featuring a laurel wreath, but for this first film that aspect has been largely played down in favour of Collins' evocative descriptions of the mad fashions in the city. We do actually see Seneca sharing his namesake's fate, being forced to suicide, with an eerie shot of an empty room and a bowlful of berries, and I read an interesting interview with Donald Sutherland where he mentioned that he had looked up Snow's namesake, Coriolanus (his first name isn't yet revealed onscreen, as it doesn't appear until the third book). It will interesting to see if, as the theme of rebellion becomes more important over the next two films, we will start to see a more Roman vibe to the Capitol.

It's more likely that it'll end up looking like the Third Reich - like Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the designer of this film has decided that, for reasons unknown, all tyrannical regimes force their female inhabitants to wear knee-length dresses in bleached out colours, with pigtails on the young girls. They may also line them up in strict formations. I get what they're doing, but when they make an otherwise modern/futuristic society look like Auschwitz for the Reaping scene, it stops being interesting design and becomes an excessively in-your-face, remember the rulers are Bad! motif. Other than that, the films looks great, and I want Katniss' brown leather jacket from the opening section.

This is a Bad situation. The Holocaust was also a Bad situation. Wouldn't it be clever to make this look like the Holocaust? I bet no one's ever done that before!

There's a lot of hand-held camerawork in the film, much of which is quite jerky and occasionally disorientating. At the beginning, I found this very annoying. I wanted to get a sense of what this world is like and feel some kind of stability in the establishing scenes, while still getting to know the characters. The tight focus on Effie during the Reaping was also a little jarring somehow. But during the Games themselves, these techniques really come into their own, because the close-up, jerky, constantly moving camera is able to depict extraordinary levels of violence without actually showing any blood (or very little). We see a sixteen-year-old beating in a thirteen-year-old's head with a rock or stabbing them with a knife, but because we're so tight in, usually on the winner, the camera can avoid all blood and guts and depict the violence without needing any gore. Quite apart from the basic financial fact that a film based on a Young Adult novel has to have a PG-13/12A rating, I actually prefer this approach. I don't actually like gore much (I watch Spartacus in spite of the gore rather than because of it!) and I really liked this method of depicting the horror and violence of the story without needing bucketfuls of fake blood and equally importantly, without glorifying it either.

As always, there were a few moments that were better in my head than on the screen. I thought it strange that we didn't get at least one reasonably passionate kiss between Katniss and Peeta. In the book, the fact that for a split second she stops pretending is really quite important. I could have lived with it being moved, perhaps to the moment where they've won, but they didn't actually interact much after that. The climactic scene with the berries felt slightly underwhelming as well - I wanted to Katniss to really think about killing Peeta, and then I wanted to see her hold the berries up to the camera, the way she saluted it earlier.

Like the book, the ending feels rather muted - I would have amped up some celebrations after their win, before coming down again through Seneca's death and the return to District 12. I think a film needs a bit of soaring emotion at the end - as it is, the strongest emotional scene is Rue's death. The scene where Katniss mourns Rue is brilliantly done and very powerful - again, my only disappointment is her subsequent rush to find Peeta when the rules are changed didn't seem quite as emotional as it felt in the book (I seem to remember her crying out his name in the book in a way she doesn't on screen). Perhaps it feels this way partly because the preceding scene had been so raw (and she does a good blind panic when the cannon goes off for Foxface later).

All in all, a brilliant film. I would have liked to see something added that was not directly from the book - I felt a bit like I'd just seen the pictures in my head, on the screen, and not quite right, where I would rather see a fresh-ish version of the story (Jennifer Lawrence's performance excepted, because she looked exactly like the pictures in my head, if not better. Her sheer, pants-wetting terror as she stands with Cinna before entering the Games is extraordinary). But it's a very cinematic book, so this is really a minor niggle. The enormous amount of exposition required is handled brilliantly and all the performances are great. How long do we have to wait for the sequel...?

My review of The Hunger Games Trilogy

Spartacus Vengeance: Balance

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 18:01:00 +0000

Balance? As in balanced argument, balanced approach? From this show? Yeah right!

Gannicus is out in the woods, threatening pregnant women, as you do. Well, a woman - Paris Hilton, of course. They meet a couple of randoms who don't buy that they're married, especially when Paris says so outright, and Gannicus very politely apologises and kills them both, fairly quickly.

Spartacus and Girlfriend are hunting deer together, which is probably the most romantic thing they've done all season. Just as the touchy subject of his dead wife comes up again, Gannicus turns up and throws Paris Hilton at his feet, telling him to kill her, take his vengeance on Haldir that way, and give up on Haldir himself so they can all just get the heck out of dodge.

Xena has somehow convinced Haldir that she's innocent of trying to have him (or Paris) killed. Haldir is attempting damage control before Rome finds out he can't even protect his own wife, while Xena insists he ought to care about Paris as a person more than politics (pretty rich - though to be fair, she and Batiatus really loved each other and genuinely put each other's interests first a lot of the time, which is more than can be said for Haldir and Paris Hilton). Gnomey Guy decides he's now risen high enough to give Xena advice and continues to kid himself they're in some kind of relationship.

Crixus conrtinues to teach Naevia sword-fighting, having established yet again how useful it is last week. Apparently she's a natural. Since they're a couple, naturlally, it all gets quite soppy and this is the most romantic thing they've done all season. At least one German seems to speak some Latin, so DSG has happily taken over his old role as, of course, Drill Sergeant Guy. The whole homely scene is interrupted by the arrival of Spartacus, Gannicus, GirlFriend and Paris Hilton. Crazy Old Guy points out going after pregnant women is not really what they should be doing but Spartacus is blinded by his obsession with the treatment of his own wife and ignores him.

Obligatory Brothel Scene. Haldir has resorted to visiting the place and interrogating the pimp himself, rather than relying on Gnomey Guy. When one disgruntled customer demands another drink and a fresh prostitute, one of Haldir's minions breaks his neck, twisting his head right round in an improbably Exorcist-like fashion. The pimp cheerfully informs Haldir that his slave had talked to Gannicus, but Gnomey had her crucified, so Haldir slits his throat. He wipes his sword clean on one of the prostitutes' skin and wanders off.

Paris Hilton points out she had nothing to do with Spartacus' wife's death, to no avail. Just as Spartacus is about to kill her, she finally tells him it's his kid (A-ha! I knew it!). Then she tries to sweet-talk him with how good she is in bed. Spartacus threatens to finish the murder attempt he started when he found out it was her he was sleeping with, but he can't really argue with the central problem that killing her will kill his own child.

Crixus tries to persuade Gannicus to kiss and make up with DSG, and is blissfully optimistic about this, since he doesn't know what the problem was. He also approves of the kidnap of Paris Hilton. I think this is the first time Crixus has shown affection or admiration for anyone other than Naevia, I'm impressed.

Gannicus is unimpressed that he's made himself Rome's Most Wanted for a woman Spartacus refuses to kill, while Spartacus tries to claim his reluctance is because she's innocent (luckily for him, Gannicus doesn't know about Neighbours Reject - though actually I'm not sure Spartacus knows that was her fault either, I can't remember).

Without Paris Hilton, Xena is forced to turn her attention to Gladiator Groupie, and tries to persuade her to send for help from Rome - unsuccessfully, since Gladiator Groupie is no longer interested in Varinius in Rome, but in Haldir. Gladiator Groupie thinks the gods are putting her and Haldir together, at which Xena looks appropriately horrified.

Crazy Old Guy is looking after Paris Hilton, since he seems to be the only person who thinks maybe heavily pregnant women should get, you know, something to eat and drink. He tells her his sob story about losing his land to Sulla (and Crassus, presumably, who made a fortune buying land seized in Sulla's proscriptions). She promises him that if he gets a message out for her, she'll get him his lands back.

Spartacus has told GirlFriend about the baby and she is, well, you can imagine. She demands that Spartacus kill Paris Hilton. Spartacus points out that would make him as bad as Haldir (something he has apparently only just thought of).

Haldir and Gladiator Groupie are getting it on, uninterrupted this time. He's grown some stubble again, maybe he's contemplating more Dark Deeds. He reassures Gladiator Groupie he only cares for the baby, not his wife. He does at least have the grace to look ever so slightly guilty when she mentions her desire to see her brother avenged.

Gnomey Guy has had a hard day smashing people's faces in, shoving swords up every possible oriface (nose, mouth, probably others but he's on this show so he likes to focus on the face) but all to no avail. He goes after Xena again and she slaps him, which does not go well for her (poor Lucy Lawless has had to do deeply unpleasant scene after deeply unpleasant scene this season).

Spartacus is seeing visions of his dead wife again. He hasn't done that in a while. He joins Crazy Old Guy for a friendly stroll while Gannicus mopes to DSG about Paris Hilton's continued existence. He then tries to persuade DSG to kill him and take vengeance, but DSGpoints out Gannicus' constant guilt is a much more satisfying form of vengeance.

Number One and The Artist finally get an actual love scene, but they're interrupted by GirlFriend, who sends them to bed since they're not actually guarding anything. She then heads for Paris Hilton herself. The number of people who want that woman dead, she could be in an Agatha Christie novel. She tries to play the baby card, blissfully unaware that GF is particularly unlikely to want her kid around. GF sets herself on PH and Spartacus turns up to pull her off just in time.

Gladiator Groupie boasts smugly about her night of sex while actually reclining, being fanned by slaves, and eating grapes. It's like she saw a painting of decadent ancient Romans and copied it down to the brushstrokes. She looks less smug when Crazy Old Guy turns up with promises of returning Paris Hilton (and to call Haldir a c*nt, but everyone does that). Spartacus has clearly sent him to get PH back home and keep the baby safe, since half his camp want to kill her. He proposes a trade of PH for some weapons. Gladiator Groupie is all for letting Paris die. Haldir looks grim and still hasn't shaved.

Spartacus insists to the whole gang that they will keep to their word and all the named characters declare that they will come along, with Gannicus coming in DSG's place because DSG is still injured.

Everyone emerges from dark shadows to gentle guitar strains for their exchange. Spartacus starts fantasising about killing Paris to Haldir and declares that he is letting her live because he's not Haldir, who in turn points out that since Spartacus has already carved Haldir's name into some corpses, the high road is not really an option. Spartacus demands his wagon of weapons which is... covered. And closed. It's like dragging a huge wooden horse with just enough room for some top soldiers into your city. Just as Number One goes to open it, Haldir lets on that actually he doesn't care about his wife and is happy to see her die for the sake of getting Spartacus. Out jump the army from the Trojan Wagon and fighting ensues.

Since nearly all of Spartacus' minions on this trip are named characters, several of them historical, Haldir's men get the worst of it. Haldir himself takes a nasty arrow to the shoulder. He runs off, and so do our heroes, except Crazy Old Guy, who is having too much fun shooting bad guys. He dies, naturally. His head goes flying right off his neck. In slow motion.

Back at the House of Death, Xena is horrified that Haldir had decided to sacrifice wife and child for a chance at Spartacus. Gladiator Groupie looks even more smug and Xena looks like she's smelled something nasty. She's got a surprise up her sleeve though - she's nabbed Gladiator Groupie's brother's arm-thing from Gnomey Guy's stuff, which proves that at least Gnomey Guy and therefore almost certainly Haldir were the men who killed her brother.

Gladiator Groupie heads off to her rendevous with Haldir in this bath where she sits on his lap and smoulders.

Spartacus gtakes PH to the woods and taunts her about love (he must have realise by now she's never had any. I'm actually feeling sorry for her for once). He tells her Haldir picked vengeance over her life and declares that this lets her off the hook, death-wise, but inflicts plenty of psychological torture on her. Then he abandons her in the midlde of the woods. She looks like she's fallen out of some strange twisted fairy-tale, like Hansel and Gretal, or a Snow White who's heavily pregnant. End of episode.

There were some... odd things going on in this episode. First of all, our heroes are apparently perfectly happy to murder a heavily pregnant women for their own gain/petty desires. I'm just... not down with that. If they wanted to wait till she'd spawned and then kill her - well, I still wouldn't be OK with it because I personally am not a fan of vengeance in general, and there'd still be the other problem of extracting vengeance on Haldir by harming someone else, but I'd be more able to see where they were coming from (and if Spartacus wanted to kill her in revenge for Neighbours Reject, I still wouldn't agree, but I'd feel positively sympathetic towards him). But no, they want to kill her right now, in revenge for something someone else did, and her unborn child with her. OK, Spartacus pulls back when he finds out it's his, but it shouldn't matter whose it is - it's a baby (OK, a foetus, and yes I know its status is controversial, but the point is if anyone other than the mother kills the child along with her, that's two lives they're taking).

Then there were the scenes between Spartacus and Paris Hilton which were also... weird. She obviously remembers their wild sex fondly, and seems to have largely got over Xena having tricked her into sleeping with Spartacus rather than Crixus - after all, Crixus didn't turn out that great for Xena, and all she really wanted was some hot gladiator sex anyway. But Spartacus hates her, and he must know she was at least partly responsible for forcing him to kill his only friend. He was utterly horrified that he'd slept with her. I get that he wouldn't necessarily want to harm her, but when she starts flirting with him a little bit, he takes her hand and almost seems to feel some kind of affection for her. Still he's pretty cold to her at the end, so I guess it was just a moment of weakness.

Actually, I can see those two having some weird, twisted kind of sexual relationship later, a bit like what the writers wanted to do with Buffy and Spike in season 6 of Buffy. I hated that storyline because I liked Buffy and Spike as a more romantic couple, but here it could work. They'd need a bit more screentime together to fire up the chemistry though.

Other than that weirdness, things more or less continued as normal in this episode. Crazy Old Guy had to go, as he was the least important character on our heroes' mission (I reckon either The Artist or No 1 is down for death next. Then the other one can angst over it). Spartacus and GirlFriend seem to have broken up, sort of - her attempt to kill his unborn child should lead to a pretty big falling-out anyway. Gladiator Groupie knows about her brother's death and is carefully plotting Haldir's. And our heroes are total idiots who somehow fell for the most famous military trick in ancient mythology. I know they're not rich or literate and they come from all over the place, but it's the Trojan Horse, for pity's sake - it's pretty famous. Not to mention you'd have to be really dumb to fall for that trick anyway. So, business as usual, mostly, but with only two episodes left, we can't be far from the grisly, probably face-based demise of both Haldir (booooo!) and Gnomey Guy (yaaaaaaay!).

Image of the Trojan Horse from around 670 BC. You should know this, guys.

All Spartacus reviews.

Quotes

Number One: (on seeing Paris Hilton): F*ck the gods! (I'm going to miss him if he gets killed off next week. I never thought I'd say that, but Gannicus has been so whiny lately that Number One is our last source of snarky humour left).

Julius Caesar (dir. Herbert Wise, 1979)

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 21:30:00 +0000

This made-for-TV version of Julius Caesar was produced for the BBC's ambitious project, in the late 70s and early 80s, to produce television versions of all of Shakespeare's plays. It was tackled early on, and directed by Herbert Wise, who directed I, Claudius (and so looks disconcertingly like a strange alternate-world prequel to Clavdivs, in which everyone speaks Elizabethan English!). Wikipedia suggests Wise wanted to film it in Elizabethan dress, but doesn't provide a reference for this (and really, they didn't hire the director of I, Claudius for an Elizabethan version, did they?! Although to be fair, he had also directed an episode of Elizabeth R...).

I don't have a copy of the play on me, but the adaptation doesn't seem to have edited too much out of Shakespeare's play. It includes, of course, the famous incident in which Mark Antony offers Caesar a crown three times and Caesar refuses it. This incident took place at the festival of the Lupercalia. One detail that tends to get left out of film and television depictions of it is that Mark Antony was stark naked at the time, because he was taking part in the festival, and had to run around the Palatine wearing only a girdle, striking women with goat-skin. Cicero, who was presumably an eye-witness, makes quite a thing of it in the Second Philippic and Shakespeare actually alludes to the festival, though the lines are often cut. Here they are kept, so for once, Antony does actually appear undressed - not actually naked, but wearing only a loosely draped sheet. Trouble is, I'm not sure the audience have a clue why he seems to have forgotten to put his clothes on. And, without meaning any offence to Keith Michell, who plays Antony - Mark Antony has been played by Marlon Brando (when he was hot), Richard Burton and James Purefoy, but it's this guy we get to see naked?! At least it wasn't Sid James.

Antony is on the right, Caesar on the left

(To be fair, Purefoy is frequently naked in Rome. Unfortunately, they didn't do the Lupercalia scene, presumably because they needed to make room for Boring and Dodgy and their soap opera).

Caesar's death is fairly well handled, though he takes a while to actually bleed when he dies (maybe I've just been watching too much Spartacus). He does bleed profusely eventually, and bonus points for the gasp he gives as he's stabbed from behind and the breath is forced out of him. It sounds just like the sound made by Christopher Lee as Saruman when he's stabbed in the back in The Return of the King (extended version) which, according to Peter Jackson on the DVD extras, was based on Lee's experience of seeing this actually happen during World War Two. Brutus' bloody hand is a nice touch too - in fact all the assassins, as the dialogue suggests they should (Shakespeare had an obsession), have fantastically blood-covered hands, a whole gaggle of Lady Macbeths.

I quite like the way some of the monologues are done as voiceover. It must be quite hard work for the actors, who have to emote like mad to their own voiceover without mugging, as if in a silent film. It works well though, and is in keeping with the 'realistic' atmosphere set by the costumes and sets - no one stands around pontificating out loud, they just exclaim a bit when emotions are running really high.

Less effective are some of the painted backdrops, which have to be the least convincing bits of painted scenery since Brigadoon. The production uses similar sets and costumes to Clavdivs, and it would perhaps have done better to stick, as Clavdivs did, to interiors and small courtyards, rather than attempting some exteriors and exposing every brush-stroke on the paintwork. At least there's a bit of a crowd assembled for Mark Antony's speech and he doesn't have to give it to a sound effect, as Livia does in one episode of I, Claudius, or indeed anyone in any scene set in am amphitheatre.

Overall this adaptation is nicely done and reasonably well acted, but a bit bland. Unless you're particularly desperate to see Mark Antony with his shirt off (in which case you'd be better served watching Rome anyway), probably better to stick to the 1953 cinematic version. Still, this is a perfectly acceptable and fairly entertaining entry into the BBC's Shakespeare archive.

Top Five Random References to Julius Caesar

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 10:00:00 +0000

I've often wondered who is the most famous Roman of them all - Pontius Pilate or Julius Caesar. Pilate has got to be one of the best known to Christians, and millions recite his name every week, if they happen to belong to a denomination that recites the Nicene Creed regularly. But outside Christian culture, Julius Caesar must be the best known Roman of all time. In addition to a month which either he or Augustus had named after himself (July), he's had all sorts of things named after him, from political positions (Kaisar, Tsar) to methods of child delivery, to salads. If something not particularly connected to Classics or the ancient world is going to randomly throw something Classical into the mix, chances are high they'll be bunging in a reference to Caesar. So, to commemorate (or celebrate, depending on your ancient Roman political persuasion) the two thousand and fifty-sixth anniversary of his death, I've collected some of my personal favourite random references to Julius Caesar from all over pop culture.

5. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 'Pangs', 'That's what Caesar did...'
What's the reference? SPIKE: (In reference to the conquest of America)... that's what conquering nations do. That's what Caesar did, and he's not going around saying, "I came, I conquered, I feel really bad about it"!'
Referring to? The inscriptions displayed during Caesar's triumph for the very short Pontic War: VENI, VIDI, VICI, 'I came, I saw, I conquered.'
How random? Well, it's not really, which is why it's down at No. 5 on this list even though it's probably my favourite of all these references. Spike is making a difficult but necessary point and the Romans are a particularly useful tool for him to use to make it, as I discussed when I blogged about it. But I love it far too much to leave it out.
What would Caesar think? He'd agree wholeheartedly with Spike. Caesar and Spike would get on really well, I think.

4. The West Wing, '18th and Potomac', 'Caesar's wife'
What's the reference? MRS LANDINGHAM: (Insisting on paying sticker price for a new car, wagging finger) Caesar's wife must be above reproach.
Referring to? Caesar's wife Pompeia was suspected of having an affair with Publius Clodius, and Clodius had spied on her during a women's-only festival. Caesar divorced Pompeia. Clodius was then put on trial for sacrilege, but when called to testify, Caesar said he knew nothing about it, so he was asked why he divorced his wife if that was the case. This is a loose translation of his reply, which was that he thought his wife should never be so much as suspected of any wrongdoing. (They can't have got on very well. He refused to divorce his first wife even when she was connected with the losing side in a civil war and the winner was trying to get him to divorce her, so he wasn't always so quick to get rid of wives, as long as they were useful and he didn't think they were cheating on him!).
How random? Well, there's something about the image of Mrs Landingham as Bartlett's 'wife' that's really disturbing... The point makes sense, though everyone around Mrs Landingham thinks she's mad. The whole thing's no more than a set-up for her sudden death while driving said new car at the end of the episode anyway.
What would Caesar think? He wouldn't be paying any attention to Mrs Landingham, he'd be too busy trying to seduce Nancy (the blonde White House employee played by Sheen's daughter).

3. Blackadder the Third, 'Sense and Senility', 'Look behind you Mr Caesar!'
What's the reference? Prince George has been thoroughly traumatised by seeing a play in which Julius Caesar was murdered right there on the stage in front of him, and no matter how much Blackadder tries to explain the concept of 'acting' to him, he can't get anywhere. This includes the following exchange:
BLACKADDER: the man playing Julius Caesar was an actor, called Kemp.
PRINCE GEORGE: Thundering gherkins! Brutus must have pretty miffed when he found out.
Referring to? The murder of Julius Caesar, two thousand and fifty-six years ago today. And Shakespeare's theatrical version of it.
How random? Not really too random, any episode about the theatre is bound to throw in some Shakespeare, and Julius Caesar is one of his most famous plays. Prince George's decision to dress in a toga for all public speaking engagements is more random.
What would Caesar think? He'd wonder what on Earth Prince George was doing running an Empire.

2. Community, 'Paradigms of Human Memory', 'Caesar Salad Day'
What's the reference? In a clip show that's not a clip show, we see the Dean entering the study room in a variety of fancy dress outfits, all on rather flimsy excuses. Among other things, he wears a tunic, a bit of red velvet and a laurel wreath to celebrate Caesar Salad Day.
Referring to? OK, this one is cheating a bit as this could be a reference to any Caesar. But I think, generally speaking, if you hear the name 'Caesar' without any other context, you think Julius. Well, I do anyway.
How random? Very, even by Community's standards. The bonkers-ness of this outfit is still beaten, though, by the woman's nineteenth-century Southern belle outfit, complete with bonnet, parasol and huge dress - for a cotillion - that he wears to celebrate getting new windows (calling it 'Gone With the Windows').
What would Caesar think? He'd think Community was one of the weirdest shows ever made. But also one of the most awesome.

1. Aladdin, 'Et tu Brute'
What's the reference? More salad. As the Genie looks into the process of making Aladdin a Prince, he opens a big book of 'Royal Recipes' and pulls out various items relating to the recipes, e.g. when he gets to Chicken a la King, he pulls out a chicken wearing a crown. When he gets to Caesar Salad, a big arm comes right out of the book holding a knife and the Genie, momentarily wearing a laurel wreath and white bit of tunic, gasps 'Et tu Brute!' and quickly turns the page. It took me years to work out what he was saying there.
Referring to? Caesar's death and his much-debated Famous Last Words.
How random? This is a cartoon visualising a bit of Robin Williams improv. It's completely random. And that's why it's top of this list. Plus, Aladdin rules.
What would Caesar think? He'd be busy desperately trying to keep up with Robin Williams' stream of comic genius. Latin is a much simpler language than English and requires far fewer words - Robin Williams in Latin would be weird and he must be really hard to follow for anyone whose English isn't completely fluent.... (On the other hand, if you're in the mood for some Latin comedy, Eddie Izzard in Latin is available here, though the title is mis-spelled).

Honourable mention: Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory has referred to Caesar a few times, in an expression ('Great Caesar's ghost!') and quoting lines from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar ('Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!'). But my favourite Classical reference of Sheldon's, which is of course quite logical but totally baffling to his audience of one, is his repeated attempt to teach Penny physics in 'The Gorilla Experiment' from the very beginning, i.e. from ancient philosophy onwards. All Penny wants is to understand what her boyfriend does for a living, but Sheldon just keeps saying 'It's a warm summer evening in Ancient Greece...' and making her note down what an agora is. It's funny because it's true.

More Top Five Lists

Spartacus Vengeance: Sacramentum

noreply@blogger.com (Juliette) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 15:15:00 +0000

I was re-watching Gods of the Arena this week, and I realised what it is about this season that's making it a little lacklustre, for me. Not that I'm not enjoying it, but it just doesn't quite have the oomph that Gods of the Arena did. I think that the reason is that it's almost totally without anything joyful or exhilarating.

Spartacus has always been a dark show, thanks to the subject matter, but that always used to be balanced by the excitement of victories in the arena, and by various parties and enthusiastic love affairs. OK, so this is all a fancy way of saying sex and violence - but joyful sex and violence, that allowed the characters to experience emotions other than despair or misery. The new season has had to leave the arena behind (though I think it's no coincidence that the best episode so far went back to the arena) but that isn't the only problem. Where Batiatus and Xena used to have a happy (if slightly twisted sometimes) marriage and put on various events, all the Roman characters are now completely miserable pretty much all the time. Maybe Xena will cheer up when she steals Paris Hilton's baby...

Our heroes among the rebels are no better either. There are three romantic relationships going, but they all lack that sense of joy and fun that you want from a screen romance. Crixus and Naevia are held back by Naevia's (understandable) trauma, while the other two relationships are just underdeveloped. One week we were wondering what Number One's sexuality was, the next suddenly he and The Artist are an item. Similarly, Spartacus had been resisting GirlFriend's advances towards the end of Season 1, but now they're a couple, with no particular explanation. They're a fairly bland couple as well, since Spartacus is clearly still hung up on his dead wife (I'm starting to think GF should give him up and find someone more interesting, or just strike out alone). Basically, our heroes need to have a big party (Gannicus could be sent out for wine) and our romantic couples need to either examine and celebrate their feelings for each other, or just give up and break up.

This episode goes some way towards addressing some of these problems. GirlFriend both thinks about her relationship with Spartacus, and she tries to convince him that they all need to let off steam every once in a while. But it all goes horribly wrong, Naevia gets attacked again (at least she can fight back this time) and despite a new love affair starting, both parties involved are too miserable in general terms to really seem happy.

The episode opens with Number One and some minions freeing a boatload of German slaves (which is nearly ruined by Number One showing off his (modern) German, unaware that one of the slavers speaks it too). For some reason the subtitled German is written in as abbreviated a form as the English/Latin is spoken, which makes no sense if they're speaking modern German, a language perfectly capable of using as many articles as English. Maybe it's supposed to indicate an older form of German? Maybe the writers didn't think it through... We have another new blonde woman as well, to replace the one that got killed last week.

Gannicus is having money troubles, since he didn't actually carry out the last job he was hired to do. He also wants his wooden sword back, but is told to ask Haldir for it. Haldir has obviously found himself at a loose end because he's had time to shave and is now speechifying. Quite how Gannicus thinks he'll get away with appearing without anyone realising he knows where Spartacus is, is a mystery. Haldir is going to crucify anyone who mentions Spartacus' name and has one of his own unfortunate women crucified on the spot to prove it (I'm not sure they crucified women in Rome... oh well). Haldir claims Paris Hilton dobbed her in and PH agrees out of fear of him. The nails are bashed correctly into the woman's wrists, by the way, not her hands, as shown in many a Catholic crucifix - if you bashed the nail into the palms, the weight of the body would pull the nail right through the hand (depending on how much rope you used in addition). Gnomey Guy spots Gannicus, who finally works out that this might be a good time to leave.

Crixus is training Naevia in sword-fighting. The pair of them finally look reasonably happy, huzzah! The Artist thinks Spartacus loves GirlFriend, but she knows that's not really true, so she's less happy. But then DSG emerges and even he looks reasonably happy. It's a miracle!

Crixus’ mood is spoiled, however, by the appearance of hordes of Germans. Half this episode seems to be about racial tension between the French and the Germans which is… a few centuries too early? To be fair, it could be accurate. (And yes, I know the modern French are descended from Franks and these are Gauls, who are different. So perhaps it's about racial tension between the Germans and the Welsh...).

Gnomey Guy has now apparently taken to raping Xena on a regular basis and making her call him ‘Dominus’. He seems to have caught her tendency towards self-delusion as well, having convinced himself she’s starting to enjoy it and bought her a present – a brand new red wig he wants her to wear. The whole thing is unbelieveably creepy – Gnomey has somehow managed to go from irritating to a little bit awesome to slimier than Slimer in three episodes.

Haldir is trying to comfort Gladiator Groupie over the death of her brother, while PH is complaining about the abrupt crucifixion of her slave. Out in the training square, a bunch of new recruits have come in and Gladiator Groupie informs everyone she wants vengeance, not justice – in particular, she wants the people who killed her brother to die horribly. Blissfully unaware of who that was, she flirts a bit with Haldir and is persuaded to stay at the House of Death for a while. Paris Hilton indicates her disapproval by emphatically over-pronouncing the letter t in the phrase, 'your presence offers great comfort'. She confesses to Xena that Haldir does not appear to be as weak as she thought, while Xena insists she must look after the baby. Both of them have had just about enough of beng abused by their respective men.

Number One confesses to Spartacus that he deliberately rescued a boatload of Germans instead of an equal load of Gauls, and Spartacus points out he could really do with men who speak Latin, and to please bear this in mind in future.

Gannicus has gone back to some of his favourite questionable women, one of whom is pleased enough to see him that she offers him a freebie. He tells her that no man is free (how true). She tells him she thinks Spartacus is truly free and he tries to get her to stop saying things that might get her crucified, but too late – Gnomey has overheard. Gannicus is rude to Gnomey, who then takes him on a trip down memory lane to the tail end of Gods of the Arena, and adds that without his rudis, the wooden sword symbolising his freedom (and with a brand) Gannicus can’t prove that he’s free. And with that, it’s back to the House of Death for both of them.

Haldir thinks it’s as suss as anyone with half a brain would that Gannicus is still alive. Xena tries to stick up for him and Haldir gives him back his rudis, but on condition that Gannicus becomes his minion and leads his troops against Spartacus. Haldir insists that Gannicus is free to choose to do what he wants and gives him a few days to decide, then sets one of Gnomey’s minions to follow him and crucify him if he tries to leave.

Xena comes up with a new plan to get her and Paris Hilton out – she cuts her wrist and smears the blood over PH’s skirt, then tells Haldir it’s a sign from the gods that the baby will die if it stays in the House of Death. Haldir agrees to send her back to Rome, apparently oblivious to Xena’s fresh wound in quite a visible place (she slashed her wrist - she really ought to have bled over her clothes a bit). Xena, of course, offers to accompany PH but Gnomey persuades Haldir to keep her in Capua.

DSG has cheered up mightily, but Number One and the Germans have gone off hunting by themselves, which has put Crixus in an even worse mood. When Spartacus and Crixus find out that the Germans attacked someone on the road, they get even crosser. Number One wants to take on the Romans, which Crixus points out they aren’t exactly ready for. Number One apologises to Spartacus but gives Crixus the side eye.

Xena is out doing her messiah act when she spots Gannicus wandering around the street, doing his second favourite thing (drinking). His friend from the other night is, of course, being crucified in the alley (looking already dead, which is rather quick, crucifixion takes days). Xena tries to warn him about Haldir, though the misinterprets it as a threat. She makes her meaning cleaerer by flat out asking him to kill Haldir (not overly wise as Gannicus is drunk and talking rather loudly). She explains that Spartacus has a grudge against Haldir and might go away if Haldir is killed. She suggests a plan of attack while Paris Hilton is being taken away to Rome that night.

The Germans are enjoying German Fight Club while the German Blonde proudly boasts of her ability to swear and wrestle like a man. Everyone except Crixus seems to be enjoying themselves, and Naevia tries to persuade him to look on the bright side. Even DSG gets dragged in to play with some half-naked women. Spartacus whines that they don’t have time for fun and GirlFriend points out that everyone needs a little fun every now and again (she's so right).

Xena tells Paris Hilton that she’s set Gannicus on Haldir, and will have him killed afterwards. Not a good idea Xena. PH has what she wants now, she probably wants to hang on to her husband. She certainly has no further need of Xena. As Paris Hilton leaves, she clearly thinks about telling Haldir everything, but restricts herself to a quick kiss and telling him ‘you shall be missed’ instead.

One of the Germans starts harassing Naevia and looks about to assault her so, understandably, she stabs him. Number One rushes in when he sees what’s happening but Crixus doesn’t realize what started it and watches him get beat up for a while. Luckily Naevia enlightens him and in he jumps, so within minutes there’s an all-out brawl, in which GirlFriend ends up fighting German Blonde, presumably because the producers wanted a bit of girl-on-girl action. So far, this appears to be the entire purpose of German Blonde's character.

Spartacus kicks one guy into a fire and saves Number One from the nasty German by literally chopping off his face. Like, from the mid-chin up. Which the camera lingers on for absolutely ages. It’s like they’d run out of interesting ways to chop people up, and nasty things to do to people’s faces, and sat down and brainstormed exactly how they could do something even worse than anything we've seen over two and a half seasons. And, having come up with something, they wanted to show it off for as long as possible.

Spartacus tells everyone to obey him and not brawl or attack each other, and tells them if they refuse to obey him, they should leave (by now the dead guy is face – what’s left of it – down on the ground, to save on the special effects budget). The Germans are sufficiently impressed that Spartacus killed the big guy that they decide to stay (Spartacus looks really smug at this point).

Back at the House of Questionable Women, Gannicus is playing with his sword. No, the wooden one. No, literally, the type with splinters. Xena, meanwhile, is taking a turn around the villa like the women do when they're bored in Pride and Prejudice, swirling her new blue dress in a suitably dramatic fashion. Gladiator Groupie has wandered into Haldir’s room for a bit of extra-curricular activity – the first so far this episode, so we get to see a bit of it, though not much before an unfortunate soldier has to walk in on them and tell them the wagon taking Paris Hilton to Rome has been attacked by Spartacus. Apparently Gannicus decided to go for the wife, rather than the husband.

There’s a close-up on a bit of intestine lying on the ground and a lot of dead Romans, including the guy who was tailing Gannicus, who has been killed with Gannicus’ rudis through his throat. No dead Paris Hilton though – she’s too valuable a hostage (and our heroes are not in the habit of killing pregnant women). End of episode.

This episode seemed to be trying to lift the mood a bit in places, which is a good sign. We just need someone to have a party that doesn't end in people getting their faces cut off. Or smashed in. Or peeled off and worn as a mask by someone else. Or pulverised with a big wooden beam. Or slowly chopped up for entertainment. Or... seriously guys, just stop with the faces. George Lucas has an arm obsession, try that out for a while, at least that one's vaguely logical (cause you, er, dis-arm the opponent by doing it).

Quotes

German: We hunt. Catch meat! (I just like this because it sounds like an old Friends quote that always makes me laugh - 'Men are here. We make fire, cook meat. Put out fire by peeing on it, no get invited back!).

All Spartacus reviews