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REVIEW OF SEASON I

SEASON II, EPISODE X

Episode title: "About Your Father..."

I've been putting this off as long as possible, seeing as how I haven't yet seen the final episode of Rome in full, but only in bits and pieces caught on the fly. But now that the season (and the series) is over, I guess I'll have to go with what I've got.

We open in the aftermath of the battle of Actium, which Antony has just lost (so this is how they avoid the expense of a major sea battle!). Antony tries hard to be stoic: "All my life I've been fearful of defeat. But now that it has come it's not near as terrible as I'd expected. The sun still shines, water still tastes good...glory is all well and good but life is enough, nay?" Actually, nay-- Octavian's army reaches the outskirts of Alexandria soon enough and the kid is demanding Antony's total, unconditional surrender.  Octavian also wants Pullo to use his influence with Vorenus to convince Antony to give up, and asks for some kind of coded message that will win the old centurion's favor. "Tell him his children are well," says Pullo, "and I hope my child is well also." When Octavian gives him a quizzical look, Pullo explains "Private joke."

Inside the palace, Antony and Cleopatra are staging an old-fashioned orgy, living out the old "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die" routine. Receiving Pullo's and Octavian's message, Antony challenges Octavian to single combat. Vorenus can see his general has gone completely daft, but refuses to betray him. Antony enters a weird, opium fueled fantasy world and begins training for a battle that will never happen. Meanwhile, Cleopatra receives word from Octavian that she can retain her life and crown if she turns Antony over to him, dead. The little b*tch demures only a little before sending word to Antony that she's gone ahead and taken her own life.

Devastated, Antony gets Vorenus to help him fall on his sword: "Tell the people I died well, I died Roman." Vorenus is deeply moved, saying "it;s been a privilege serving with you, sir." Antony takes the blade into his thorax and breathes his last. Vorenus props him up on his Egyptian throne, but is astonished when Cleopatra and her entourage enter. Cleo makes an extravagant scene of weeping over Antony's corpse, but Vorenus doesn't buy any of it, and gives her a look that could kill at fifty paces. Vorenus strides off to find Caesarion and rescue him from the certain death that awaits if Octavian finds him first.

Vorenus and the boy escape in peasant clothes, while Cleopatra opens the palace doors and greets a beaming Octavian. A strange, stilted conversation crammed with subtext ensues, and Cleopatra soon realizes she has been utterly outsmarted by the cunning youth, who fully intends to take her back to Rome and march her in chains in his triumphal parade. She asks for, and receives, time to pack. As soon as Octavian leaves her presence, she calls on her ladies to bring her a poisonous asp and applies it to her breast. Octavian returns just in time to see her take her last breaths as she hisses, "you have a rotten soul!" Learning that Caesarion has escaped with Vorenus, Octavian sends Pullo out to look for them, telling him to persuade Vorenus to return, as only the boy has to die.

Vorenus is camped in the desert with Caesarion, who is the spitting image of his father (Pullo, not Caesar). Pullo finds him and warmy greets his old buddy. Pullo delivers the news of the death of the boy's mother bluntly and Caesarion rebuffs him rudely, but realizing he has no other options, remains by the campfire crying. "I thought he'd be bigger," Pullo notes of his son. He explains to Vorenus there are ten legions out looking for them. The only way to go is south. Pullo gives his friend an update on his children, hoping to lure him home. But Vorenus agrees to go only as far as Judaea with them.

Octavian returns to Rome and asks Octavia to look after Antony's young children by Cleopatra. Octavia agrees, acidly seeing it as yet another political ploy: "Kindly Uncle Octavian shows mercy. People will love it. Clever. No end to your cleverness." Octavian gives a wry smile: His sister knows him all too well.

Back in the desert, Pullo and Vorenus come upon a road block manned by Roman legionaries. They try to bluff their way through, but a sword fight breaks out. Like old times, Pullo and Vorenus are one hell of a death-dealing team, but during the melee Vorenus takes a bad wound in the back. "I've seen worse," Pullo says anxiously, but Vorenus is convinced he's a goner and begs his friend to take him back to Rome so he can see his children before he expires.

A month later, on the day of Octavian's triumphal celebration, Pullo arrives home, driving an ox cart with an ashen, but barely alive Vorenus lying in the bed.  At first his children, led by Vorena the elder, don't want to see him. But watching Lyde nurse him, Vorena inally comes to her father to say goodbye, and her brother and sister follow her lead. Vorenus smiles: Now he can die in peace.

The Triumph commences, with all Rome draped in garlands and citizens of all classes turned out in their finery. Atia, who has been fretting about being superseded by Octavian's uppity wife Livia, makes a grand entrance just before the women of Octavian's party are to enter the Forum. She elbows Livia aside and takes the place of honor at the head of the procession: "You are swearing now that some day, some day you will destroy me. Far better women than you have sworn to do the same. Go look for them now."

Octavian enters the Forum in his triumphal chariot, to the cheers of an adoring throng. A new era has dawned: The Civil Wars are over, and Rome has a new, young master who's intelligence and political skill is matched only by his cold, calculating ruthlessness. Atia looks at her son, a mixture of patrician pride and regret playing across her features. It's a lovely scene, a fitting final image for the series.

 But there's an epilogue of sorts: Some time later, Pullo visits Octavian and reports that he killed Caesarion in the desert, as per his orders. What about Vorenus, Octavian asks. Pullo sakes his head: "He didn't make it." Octavian eyes him askance, but can think of no reason to distrust him and agrees to reward his old friend handsomely. Outside, Pullo finds Caesarion waiting and tells him he's safe: "He bought it." As the boy vows by the gods of Egypt to avenge his mother and his father, Pullo interrupts: "Listen, about your father...." They disappear into the milling throng of Rome's streets as the familiar theme music plays for the last time.

Overall impression:

Like many episodes toward the end of Season II, this one feels rushed and sketchy, probably because they ended up having to cram 12 episodes worth of stuff into 10. I can understand why they didn't "do" the Battle of Actium (building a fleet of war galleys ballooned the budget of the Liz Talor "Cleopatra" into the stratosphere and made it impossible for it to turn a profit), but it's still a disappointment to see it skipped over. Antony's sad end is especially poignant, but I felt nothing for Cleopatra and, when she used her dying breath to accuse Octavian of having a "rotten soul," I thought he should have just said "backatcha, babe."  To me, the whole death of Vorenus sequence just defies credulity: If the wound he suffered was mortal, he certainly wouldn't have survived the long land a sea voyage back to Rome just so he could see his kids again. He's such a great character, if he was going to die, I wanted it to be a worthy, glorious death. His sad demise here just felt like a cheat and an afterthought.

The producers seem to want to play Octavian as a villain here, but none of his moves seem anything but logical and it's impossible not to think that the better man won, and that Rome is going to do just fine in his capable hands. And, of course, that's just the way it turned out.

One final thought: Interesting how the whole of "Rome" now feels like a lushly produced prequel to "I, Claudius."

What they got right: Well, the overall sweep of events plays out here pretty much as it occurred, even if details differed. Antony and Cleo's last months of drunken debauchery post-Actium are well-portrayed. And I like that they record how Octavian brought the doomed couple's children back for his sister Octavia to raise.

What they got wrong: The real death of Mark Antony was a lot more poignant and romantic than the sorry end portrayed here. Thinking that Cleopatra had taken her own life, he tried to fall on his sword, but only inflicted a deep wound. Cleopatra, still alive and taking refuge in her mausoleum, had Antony hauled up to her through a window, where he expired in her arms. And, of course, Caesarion didn't survive, but was intercepted by Octavian's men while trying to escape to Parthia and quietly dispatched.

SEASON II, EPISODE IX

Episode title: Deus Impeditio Esuritori Nullus

This review is going to be shorter and sweeter than usual since I'm heading off to Fort Lafe in Arkansas tomorrow and don't have much time. Seems appropriate, anyway, since the pace of the show is definitely picking up as the finish line draws nigh.

We open in Egypt, where Mark Antony and his paramour, Cleopatra, entertains a delegation of Roman senators by "hunting" a poor slave dressed up like a stag. You know this can't well for the slave, and it doesn't. Senator Bibulus wants to buy Egyptian grain at double the usual price (Rome is feeling the effects of a terrible drought and the people are on the verge of starvation). Cleopatra insists on triple, and Bibulus agrees without batting an eye. Antony, looking rather like Alice Cooper in his Egyptian-style black eye makeup, demands that control of Africa and Spain be tossed into the deal, and Bibulus finally balks-- Octavian would never stand for it. "Too bad, then," says Antony. "Give him my best!" Fuming at Antony's arrogant buffoonery, the delegation retires. Cleo and Antony talk politics: They both want to force Octavian into declaring war, but the kid has so far resisted. Speaking of kids, Antony and Cleo now have two of their own-- plainly a couple of years have passed, at least, since the last episode.

Lucius Vorenus, meanwhile, basically occupies himself with desultory whoring, cleaning up Antony's messes and babysitting Cleo's son Caesarion by telling him about his father. From his description, it's clear Vorenus thinks the boy's dad is Pullo, not Caesar.

Back in Rome, Pullo and Gaia have predictably teamed up, and make a pretty nice couple-- notwithstanding that Gaia murdered Eirene to get him. On the Aventine, a rowdy crowd demands a larger grain ration, and Pullo has to address them from a balcony, showing remarkable political skills for a bluff soldier. He puts on his best tunic and goes off to meet up with Octavian, who is trying desperately to ease the grain shortage. Agrippa proposes emptying the military grain silos as a temporary measure, and Octavian agrees. He asks his old friend Pullo who the people are blaming for the shortage. "You, sir," he replies. Octavian accepts this stoically-- he is, after all, supposed to be the "cold, calculating one," while the roguish Antony remains beloved of the Roman people. Later, Octavian drops the "calculating" facade just a bit while having some energetic (and very graphic) sex with his bride, Livia, who concludes by giving him a sharp slap across the face (they both enjoy a little mild S&M, it seems).

Octavian decides to send his sister and mother on a sea voyage in person to convey his personal plea for a more reasonable grain policy. Atia and Octavia demand a reward for their compliance with this scheme (although Atia is really pining for the chance to see her old lover and Octavia would like nothing better than to escape her comfortable captivity). Octavian promises each a villa and/or "cash," as they require. Next thing you know, mother and daughter are both fighting seasickness as their ship pulls into Alexandria (nice view of the Pharos through the upper hatch!).

Told of their arrival, Antony is flummoxed as to how to react. Cleo, however, demands that the women be either sent home or killed, and launches into an amphora-throwing tantrum when Antony balks. The battle royale continues while Atia and Octavia sit stewing in the courtyard, unwelcome and unannounced. Cut back to Cleo and Antony furiously humping against a wall. Cut back to Atia and Octavia being greeted by their old friend Jocasta, who is suddenly grabbed by her husband Posca and hauled inside the palace. Finally, a worn out Antony summons Vorenus over and gives him a "delicate mission..."

Outside, Vorenus greets the women and abruptly informs them he has been ordered to escort them back to their ship. "Tell my husband he is cowardly scum," blurts Octavia. As they re-board their ship, whey are joined by Posca and Jocasta, who are fleeing Alexandria and Antony's apparent madness. Earlier, Vorenus had allowed them to leave, asking Posca to tell Pullo "to give my children a kiss from me." Plainly, he's still hurting badly over losing his kids for a second time.

Returning to Rome (that merchant ship must be jet-powered!), the women reveal Antony's gross insult to them. Atia demands that Octavian crush her former lover. Octavia correctly guesses that this was precisely the result Octavian intended-- Antony and Cleopatra's ill treatment of his sister and mother now provide the perfect cassus belli. Better still, Posca has smuggled out Antony's will, which bestows all of Rome's eastern provinces on Cleopatra and her children by him and Caesar. "It's perfect!" squeals Maecenas. Before long, the will is being read to the whole populace of Rome.

Now that war is looming, Octavian asks Pullo to accompany him to Egypt. "It'll be a grand adventure, just like old times." Pullo calls Vorenus' kids together and tells them he'll be leaving to hopefully meet up with their father and bring him home. The kids aren't happy about this: "We hate him-- he killed our mother," blurts Vorena. Tough case.

That evening, Pullo notices that Memmio, who has been kept in a cage like a wild beast at the Aventine headquarters, has managed to escape. The wild man attacks him from behind, but before he can kill Pullo, Gaia saves the day, bashing his head against the floor. But she takes a knife in the gut for her troubles, and as she lies writhing in bed, Pullo is once again shattered at the prospect of losing the woman he loves. Gaia, however, wants to die with a clean conscience, and so confesses that she poisoned Eirene. Pullo's face goes dead cold (amazing piece of acting!) and he finishes her off by strangling her and dumping her body in the Tiber.

Overall impression:

A spotty episode, marred by several awkwardly staged scenes, particularly the whole Alexandria visit by Atia and Octavia. A real problem with the series continues to be the characterization of Cleopatra as a kind of spike-haired, punk rock waif. There is nothing queenly, attractive or even very interesting about this spoiled little druggy, and you can't imagine why Antony seems to find her so fascinating. The Cleopatra episode was probably the worst one of Season I, and this one is the worst so far of Season II, IMHO. I want my Cleopatra to be enchanting, seductive, brilliant, calculating, stimulating, the way the real one must have been!

Historical analysis:

What they got right: Well, Octavian did send Octavia (but not Atia, who was already dead) on a mission to redeem Antony from Cleopatra's clutches, and was indeed rebuffed by Antony, who soon thereafter divorced her in absentia. Octavian also did manage to obtain Antony's will and used it as an effective propaganda tool to destroy Antony's reputation among the people of Rome.

What they got wrong: See previous notes re. Cleopatra's character. Also, regarding the sex scene between Octavian and Livia, much as I love seeing attractive naked people enjoying each other's company, there's a problem here. No respectable Roman wife would make love to her husband completely in the buff-- she'd at least wear a breast band (or strophium) to provide a scant bit of modesty. Finally, there's been no mention of Antony's great fiasco of a campaign against Parthia, which also eroded his reputation as a peerless soldier.

Predictions: Well, next week is it-- and I'll be flying home from Arkansas when it first airs! Waaah! Anyway, it'll be interesting to see how the Battle of Actium is handled (ancient sea battles being notoriously expensive and difficult to film). Antony and Cleo buy it, and Octavian triumphs and is hailed ad Augustus, the first Roman emperor. Also, much as I hate to say it, either Vorenus or Pullo dies. Don't think it will be both. At this point I'm guessing... Pullo? With Vorenus rejoining his kids, who forgive him? Or is that too much of a "happy ending"?

Questions? Comments? Critiques? Post them on the Roman Army Talk RomeBlog Thread, HERE.

SEASON II, EPISODE VIII

Episode title: A Necessary Fiction

Well, if last week's episode was a bit of a lull, this one was more of a lollapalooza!

It opens quietly enough, with Octavian lecturing a gaggle of Roman matrons about the proper role of Women in society. He turns on the charm: "It is the women of Rome, with their steely virtues and caste morals, that have conquered the world." He promises to enact "laws that severely punish adultery and promiscuity and vice of all kinds..."

Of course this little diatribe is backed up by a montage of the Julian women getting it on with their men of choice: Atia boinking Mark Antony, who is the recently married husband of Octavia, who in turn is madly boinking Agrippa. Nice little bit of counter-programming, there.

Maecenas, the little devil sitting on Octavian's left shoulder, congratulates his boss on a masterly bit of politics, buying the support of Rome's prominant matrons. "I meant every word of it," asserts Octavian stuffily, and we can be sure he does. Maecenas brushes this off and points out a pretty young thing amid the ladies flitting about-- "that's the young piece I told you about." Octavian is obviously impressed by what he sees. He walks up, is introduced to Livia Drusilla and her mother, and launches into what must be the quickest courtship in TV history: "Tell me, how would you like to be married to me?"

Livia, barely pausing a beat, shoots back: "I would like that, if my husband does not object." So begins one of the great marriages of all ages.

Later, Augustus warns the demure Livia that there are times when he may beat her, "with my hand, sometimes with a light whip. You mustn't think you've done anything wrong-- I derive sexual pleasure from it. " Livia contemplates this for a moment, then says it's fine with her (you almost want her to ask, "may I beat you in return like the naughty boy you are, sir?")

Later still, Maecenas discusses the upcoming gold shipment from the Judean Prince Herod. Octavian wants it handled by Lucius Vorenus' Aventine Collegium, but notes that since it is an illicit bribe, "I want complete deniability." The more things change...

Up on the Aventine Collegia, Vorenus gives the gold detail to Pullo, over Mascius' objections. "Octavian trusts Pullo, nothing personal," assures Vorenus, but Mascius storms out, muttering about being the "f*cking third man." We notice Vorena the Younger lurking about outside, eavesdropping on the planning session.

Downstairs Gaia hands a steaming cup of tea to the pregnant Eirene-- and we remember her buying the abortion potion from the apothecary at the end of the previous episode. Despite all our screams of warning at the TV set, Eirene takes a sip...

...and a few moments later lies writhing on a blood-soaked bed after a messy miscarriage. Poor Pullo is beside himself as Eirene gives instructions for her funeral: "Put me in a black shroud and bury me in an open field." Her death, and the quiet funeral given her by Pullo and Vorenus, are absolutely heartrending. Pullo quietly beseeches Eirene's gods to "please look after her-- she was a good woman. My name is Titus Pullo, ex thirteenth legion." Now both of our beloved soldiers have lost their wives.

Pullo is incapacitated with grief, so Mascius is given the gold shipment detail. Predictably, it's ambushed and the gold stolen. Mascius is seriously wounded, but makes it back to the Aventine to report the disaster. A stunned Vorenus must relay the news to the Triumvirs Octavian, Mark Antony and Mr. Spo... er, Lepidus. Antony mutters about t being an inside job, but Vorenus can't see how-- his men are all too afraid of him to double-cross him. Vorenus promises to bring the gold back, one way or another.

Vorenus pays a visit to his arch-rival Memmio, who he finds in the midst of an all-out boink-fest with his men and a bunch of naked hookers (at this rate, they'll surpass last week's record number of boinks!). They have a stilted exhange, Vorenus asking if Memmio has news of a certain something that was stolen from the Aventine Collegia, Memmio insisting he has heard of no such thing and advising him to "look to your own men." Vorenus gives a tight grin. "Thank you Memmio, I will see you again soon." You can see exactly what he's thinking: Bastard did it, for sure. But how? On the way out, he notices once of Memmio's henchmen, the oily character who was courting Vorena, pressing a homemade straw doll on one of the hookers.

Maecenas, who was hoping to skim some Herod's gold for himself, is beside himself at the hijacking and tries to convince Octavian it was Antony's doing. Octavian isn't convinced and doesn't want to split up the Triumvirate over so trivial a matter. Maecenus blurts out that Antony has been making a fool of him: "He's been bedding your mother as before." Octavian is disbeleiving-- why hasn't Octavia said anything? "She has her own reasons for keeping silent," replies the little weasel.

Outraged, Octavian calls a family gathering-- his new bride Livia, Atia, Octavia, Antony and Agrippa are all in attendance. The callow young man launches into a speech that is all controlled fury: "I am master of this family, and you have rebelled against me." At the first they deny anything of the sort, but Agrippa's guilty conscience wins out and he confesses: "It's true-- I won't deny it. I love your sister." Antony asks, so what? This is Rome-- who cares who anyone is bedding? "I care!" rails Octavian. He orders that the Julian women will be kept under lock and key if they can't control their libidos. He demands that Antony clear out of Rome immediately and head off to Egypt to manage his Eastern provinces. Antony scoffs, but reddens with fury when Octavian lays down the law: If he refuses, "I'll put it about that a commoner in your own army has been having your wife! Proles will laugh at you in the streets! They will say you wear cuckold's horns! Your soldiers will mock you behind your back!" Antony grabs Octavian by the throat, but freezes when he realizes the "boy" has got him by the short hairs. Octavian's savage grin says it all-- at last, he's turned the tables on his tormentor! Choking with rage and humiliation, Antony storms off without a backward glance.

Octavia caps the scene with one of her classic asides. "It was nice to meet you," she calls out sweetly to Livia. "Take care. You're marrying a monster."

(This was one hellacious scene, one of the best in the series so far, and of the best pieces of dinner-table drama since "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?")

Back at the Aventine, Vorenus snaps Pullo out of his stupor by telling him of the gold hijacking and his suspicions about Memmio. Pullo suspects Mascius betrayed them and they head out to interrogate their wounded comrade. Mascius pleads his innocence -- "I saved your life at Gorgovia, brother" he tells Pullo as the big man places a blade against his throat. But as Vorenus shoos away his younger kids, he realizes they were playing with a straw doll of the kind made by Memmio's henchmen. He storms into Vorena's room and finds a wooden chest full of similar dolls. Vorena confesses to betraying him-- even brags about it. "I betrayed you, and I was glad to do it!" she rages. "I hate you! We all do! You killed my mother! You cast me into Hades! You made me a whore!" Vorenus weakly denies that he killed Niobe, but the rest is undeniable. He wraps his hands around his daughter's throat, but pulls off when Pullo gently chides him. Once again, he's a broken man, and flees the room. Pullo comforts the shattered children (one suspects the younger ones aren't as full of hate for their old man as Vorena).

(Again, another terrific scene of family angst. These writers sure know their domestic drama!)

Head still swimming, Vorenus visits Mark Antony, who is busy packing his possessions and burning incriminating documents. Vorenus says he now knows who has the gold, and that Pullo will recover it. As for him, he's resigning from the Aventine Collegium due to a "personal matter" and wants to resume his military service to Antony and accompany him to Egypt. Antony accepts: "I'll need good men. But you won't turn to drink on me, will you? Happens to all you stoic types."

Outside Antony's villa, Pullo meets up with his friend and tries to convince him to stay, that his kids will get over it and forgive him. Vorenus sadly refuses, saying his leaving is for the best. He places the children in Pullo's care and the two brothers in arms embrace, hopefully not for the last time.

As Octavian promised, Atia and Octavia are kept under armed guard in their family home. Even Antony is barred when he attempts a last visit. He prevails on the Centurion to allow him a last word with his lady-love Atia, who asks him: "Promise me you'll send for me" once he reaches Egypt. "On my life, I promise," Antony replies.

Inside, Octavia gets a surprise visit from Agrippa, arranged by her mother. She pleads with him to flee with her, but Agrippa has instead come to say goodbye.  "You are a miserable coward," she tells him, adding "by the way, I'm having a baby." Whose is it, Agrippa asks his or Antony's? "What does it matter?" she replies. "Neither man is worth a brass obol."

Somewhere on the sunlit Aventine, it's showdown time. Pullo dons a leather breastplate and a gladiatorial armguard and leads the men (and women, including a pike-armed Gaia!) toward an all-out melee with their rivals led by Memmio. It's set up like a scene from "Gangs of New York." Memmio asks for a parlay, and tells Pullo there's no reason for a rumble-- his quarrell was with "that madman, Vorenus," not with him. They shake hands, embrace-- and Pullo head-butts him and rips his tongue out with his teeth!

Fight's on! It's a far more ferocious battle scene than the one versus Brutus and Cassius in Episode VI. Impalements, limbs lopped off, decapitations, you name it. Gaia turns out to be one nasty little street fighter, as we knew she would. In the end, the other collegia flee like scared dogs. Pullo rules the Aventine!

In Egypt, Antony leads his men ashore and into the royal palace of Alexandria, where Cleopatra awaits, wearing a gown so sheer it leaves nothing to the imagination. Now, where could this be headed?

Overall impression:

Wow. Families in crisis, death, sex, raging conflict, theft, betrayal, sex, heartrending partings, sex, and a big, bloody street brawl. What more could you ask in an hour's entertainment? Why is this not the highest rated show on TV?

Historical analysis:

What they got right: Later in life, Octavian did indeed try to legislate Rome's moral values by passing laws encouraging marriage, childbearing, and banning adultery. And these did prove bitterly ironic, as his own family affairs were filled with the sort of lechery and vice he railed against in public.

What they got wrong: Octavian didn't (and couldn't) force Antony to leave Rome-- the old boy left of his own accord, seeking military glory through the invasion of Parthia, for which he needed Cleopatra's help. Livia was not Augustus' first wife, but his third, and he already had a daughter, Julia, by his second wife Scribonia when he met Livia. Livia not only already had one son, Tiberius (mentioned in this episode), but was pregnant with her second, Nero Drusus, when she agreed to marry Octavian. The ins and outs of marriage among the Roman highborn make even today's Hollywood seem tame. Then there's money: In one scene, Memmio tosses out some of Herod's gold and we get a quick close-up of the "tails" side of one coin, which resembles a shekel of Tyre, one of the main coins used in Judea at the time. Good! Except the shekel of Tyre was a silver coin, not a gold one. Also, Octavia's rant about her men not being worth "one brass obol" would have been better stated "one copper quadrans." An "obol" is am ancient Greek denomination, not Roman. Though credit the ROME researchers for getting some of the nomenclature right.

Observations: Interesting that Mascius stayed loyal despite his constant grumbling about being "third man." He may end up commanding the Aventine, after all, when Pullo goes his own way.

Predictions: Well, we're now set up for the inevitable civil war between Antony and Octavian, with Pullo and Vorenus on opposite sides. Can the producers be so bold as to put Pullo together with Eirene's murderer, Gaia? Or will it turn out she really didn't have a hand in Eirene's death, after all? Hmmm....

SEASON II, EPISODE VII

Episode title: Death Mask

Nineteen episodes down, three more to go.

Just three more episodes and... no more ROME.

Waaah!  What are we gonna do with our Sunday nights?

That said, this week's episode was kind of... transitional. The second phase of the Roman Civil War is over, and we're plainly in something of a hiatus while the next set of conflicts is set up. Which is not to say that nothing happens. It just left us with the sense that, well, we needed a breather between the last few high-intensity episodes and the even more intense ones to come. And this was it.

We open with Servilia caressing a wax life mask of her dead son, Brutus, while she is comforted by her faithful servant. It's both poignant and quite weird, like Rome itself. It almost made me feel sorry for this vindictive wench, whose blood feud with Atia and the Julii has caused so much grief. Almost.

Then I remember what she did to Vorenus, and thought, "serves ya right, Servilia."

Next, Atia's primping Jocasta, Octavia's now destitute friend, for her upcoming wedding. The girl's pretty upset about the whole thing: "I'd always imagine I'd wed somebody... different." Turns out her new husband is none other than Posca, Caesar's balding, portly, astute little personal slave, now a free man making his way in the Roman world. Mark Antony, clean shaven and looking entirely too respectable, is also in attendance, rather bored with the whole thing. Atia daydreams about the two of them getting married, and Antony promises "when we get married, it'll be the biggest wedding you've ever seen." But the proceedings are interrupted by a strange, haunting voice from the street. It's Servilia, kneeling outside Atia's door in sack cloth and ashes (these are scattered over her head by her ever-present servant), chanting "Atia of the Julii, I call for justice... Atia of the Julii, I call for justice..." Atia is naturally appalled that Servilia is making such a scene, but decides to just ignore her. The chants go on, and on, and on.

Later, Antony meets with Octavian and the junior triumvir, Lepidus, to discuss regularizing their "arrangement."  Octavian suggests that the empire be carved up between them, which Antony does literally, taking his sword to a big parchment map, and handing pieces to his partners in power. Octavian gets Rome, Italy and Gaul-- full as they are with bickering politicians and demanding, restless mobs. Antony will take the rich East-- Greece, Asia and Egypt, all quiescent and ripe for the plundering. Octavian insists, and Antony agrees, that all revenues be pooled and divided equally among them. "What do I get?" wonders Mr. Spock-- er, Lepidus. Almost as an afterthought, Antony slices off a smallish chunk of map and hands it to him. "Here-- Africa."

Meanwhile, Servilia maintains her vigil and keeps chanting, driving Atia nuts. Antony pops by and advises her to meet the old girl and be done with it, but Atia is determined to wait her out.

Next day, Antony meets Prince Herod of Judea (later to become Herod the Great), who proffers a huge bribe-- 20,000 pounds of gold--for Rome's support in seizing the throne of his homeland, which a grinning Antony accepts "on behalf of the triumvuirate." Of course, he later tells Posca, he has no intention of telling Octavian or Lepidus about the bribe. Herod, looking exotic in Jewish-style dreadlocks and Semitic garb, trots off with his bodyguard, arrogantly past Timon, the born-again Jew, and his brother Judah. "That bastard should die," Judah hisses, explaining that Herod is a corrupt tyrant, a idolater, and a lackey of the Romans who must be stopped before he can gain control of Judea. He and Timon enter into a pact to do the deed when the opportunity presents itself.

After three days of torture, Atia finally marches out to confront Servilia in the street before her house. Servilia promptly pronounces the mother of all curses on Atia: "Send her bitterness and dispair her whole life.  Let her taste only ashes. All I have left I will give if you will make it so..." She whips out a dagger and plunges it into her midriff, eliciting gasps from the crowd and a shocked stare from Atia. Her servant pulls out the dagger and kills herself in similar fashion, faithful unto death. Antony, who has watched the whole scene over Atia's shoulder, is impressed: "That woman knows how to make an exit."

Of course, Posca rats out Antony over Herod's gold to Octavian's friend Maecenas, which leads to a flaming row between Antony and Octavian. It seems the Triumvirate is about to fracture, sending Rome into near panic (not another civil war!). But Atia steps in and smoothes things over. The two main Triumvirs agree to share the gold and renew their former friendship. But that's not enough-- something else is needed to bind the pact. Octavian proposes a marriage contract between Antony and Octavian's family. Atia's thrilled-- her dream wedding is about to come true! But she is dismissed ("It's hardly appropriate for a woman to be present when we're talking wedding contract") before Octavian and Antony get down to brass tacks.

Meanwhile, back at the Aventine, Pullo discovers that Memmio, the rival mob boss, is trying to undermine Vorenus by handing out counterfeit Aventine food chits to low-lifes from other regions. Vorenus shrugs it off, saying he knows Memmio is a crook, but the most important thing is to maintain the peace between the Collegia. Pullo is perplexed by his friend's passiveness, but he soon has problems of his own. His pregnant wife Eirene won't make love to him for fear it would "hurt baby." Pullo is as understanding as a big, horny galoot can be, but then things get a lot more complicated. Eirene has a nasty spat with Gaia, the uppity hooker-slave, who disrespects her in front of everyone. Eirene demands that Pullo teach her a lesson by giving her as good thrashing. Pullo reluctantly gets out his whip to do just that, but Gaia's a clever one, not to mention pretty alluring, and before long they're furiously coupling on the kitchen table. Knowing she's got her hooks in Pullo now, Gaia becomes a more compliant slave, and Eirene approves of the result, telling Pullo (and getting the biggest laugh of the night): "See, now she's good slave. You keep beating her the same way."

Vorenus' daughter carries on her secret affair with Memmio's smarmy assistant, and we soon learn what we've suspected all along: It's all a setup to get the stupid girl to spy on her old man. (Judging from the previews of the next episode, the upshot's not going to be very fun!)

After a nighttime lovemaking session, a plainly squeamish Antony confides to Atia that he has something important to say about the upcoming wedding. Next day, we learn what it is: Antony's bride isn't Atia, it's her daughter Octavia! The smirk on Octavian's face suggests this is his way at getting back at his mother for initially siding against him during his feuds with Antony, and at his sister for failing to show him the proper deference. After what must rank as one of the most uncomfortable wedding ceremonies in history (the look on Agrippa's face is especially painful to watch), the parade of guests and dignitaries wends through streets lined with cheering crowds. Poor Atia can think of nothing but Servilia's curse.

One of the guests is Price Herod -- and Timon and Judah are waiting nearby, knives at the ready. But Timon suddenly chickens out: "No more killing-- I have a wife, children..." Furious, Judah pulls his blade and starts toward Herod, but Timon grabs him, they grapple and, in the way these things always seem to happen in the movies, Judah somehow gets the fatal thrust himself. "You...are...not...my... brother," he gasps to the anguished Timon before expiring.

Almost as painful is the bridal bed scene that follows. "I know this is...damned awkward," stammers Antony as Octavia stares at the ceiling, "but it is our wedding night, and, well..."

"Do as you like," says Octavia tersely. And, rolling her over, he does.

Trouble is also brewing on the Aventine front, as Gaia visits an apothecary to buy a potion (containing silphium-- very good!) for inducing abortion. Plainly, she's not planning to use it on herself. Watch out, Eirene!

Overall impression:

I thought this one a very female-oriented episode, maybe compensation for the previous couple of macho, military-oriented ones. Most of the big scenes and conflicts focus on the women: Atia vs. Servilia, Eirene vs. Gaia, etc. The subtext of this one was "getting hitched" -- it starts out with a wedding (Locusta and Posca), moves on to Pullo canoodling with his pregnant wife, moves on to an engagement, goes into more canoodling (Atia and Antony), then to some pretty hard-core "boinking" (Pullo and Gaia), some more "boinking" (Agrippa and Octavia), more canoodling (Atia and Antony), and finally another wedding (Antony and Octavia), followed by more boinking (same). Which brings up the question: Do women like to watch on-screen canoodling, or hard-core "boinking"?

Historical analysis:

What they got right: Well, this is a rather soap operaish episode, and historical details seem almost irrelevant to the flow of events. The partitioning of the Empire between the Triumvirs occurred pretty much as depicted, although I believe Lepidus initially got Spain as well as Africa. Herod did indeed buy Rome's support in his quest to rule Judea, although he didn't secure the throne until after 37 BC. He was opposed by many Jews as an Idumaean (from Edom, a region outside Judea proper) who followed Hellenistic ways, although he called himself a Jew and followed their customs. And, of course, Antony did marry Octavia in a show of political unity, but this occurred in 36 BC, after Antony's first fling with Cleopatra and a period of estrangement from Octavian.

What they got wrong: There is no evidence Antony ever had an affair with Atia, who by all accounts was a proper Roman matron and a virtuous mother, not the scheming, sultry seductress depicted here. As noted before, the time frame is rather compressed and jumbled, with events that occurred years apart packed into a few days or weeks. Servilia appears to have died a natural death in 43 BC, without inflicting a curse on Atia or anyone else (in fact, she never fell out of love with Julius Caesar and was appalled at her son's role in his assassination).

Questions: It must be asked-- what the hell happened to Polly Walker, aka Atia, between seasons? In season one, though apparently in her early 40s, she was svelt and sexy and frequently appeared naked in the baths or in bed with Antony, which was quite all right by me. But in the months between seasons, she seems to have gained about 40 pounds and aged about a decade. She's now so blousy the producers dare not show her unclothed-- in her bedroom scene with Antony in this episode, she looks as though she's wrapped in several layers of linen just to hold her once-slender body in check. It's not that she aged and got fat-- that happens to all of us, including this writer. It's that it happened so fast!  Could it be that she got pregnant between seasons, or did she spend all of her newfound wealth on chocolates and caviar?

Predictions: Looks like another gang war is in the offing, with Vorenus' daughter trapped between her dad and her new patron, Memmio. Servilia's curse continues to haunt Atia (duh!). At long last, Antony is going to start getting serious with Cleopatra. Octavian edges Lepidus out of the picture. And, from the previews, it looks like Herod's gold is going to get waylaid.

Questions? Comments? Critiques? Post them on the Roman Army Talk RomeBlog Thread, HERE.

SEASON II, EPISODE VI

Episode title: Philippi

So this is it, the big showdown between Brutus / Cassius and Octavian / Antony, assassins vs. avengers, republic vs. tyranny, butchers of one man vs. butchers of many. Thankfully, it's not a battle between Vorenus and Pullo, at least not yet.

We open on a dusty plain in northern Greece, where Brutus and Cassius lead their legions toward a confrontation with Octavian in Rome. Brutus is almost giddy, thinking they'll soon be hailed as restorers of the Republic. More realistic, Cassius mutters about finding "good ground" for a battle, echoing generals throughout the ages.

Back in Cisalpine Gaul, Antony and Octavian follow up on their reconciliation embrace in Episode V, with Lepidus looking on with a Mr. Spock-like mien. While Antony thinks military strategy against Brutus and Cassius, Octavian is thinking politics and money. Writing (properly) on a wax tablet, he whips of a quick list of the senators who had backed Brutus and the assassins, and almost casually announces that they must be killed immediately and their estates seized to finance the war effort. Lepidus is aghast, but Antony is both amused and impressed: "You are a ferocious little c*nt, aren't you?" Antony one-ups him by demanding that Cicero be among the first to die. Octavian accepts this but insists that Lucius Vorenus be in charge of the overall proscription, and that the ever-reliable Titus Pullo should be the one to personally take care of Cicero (perhaps he understands Pullo will do the deed with some sense of humanity and civility?). Even Atia gets in the act, adding the father of Octavian's friend Jocasta to the list, because she's a "bad influence" on Octavia and, besides, the old man's rich.

At a meeting of the Aventine Collegium, Vorenus distributes lists of proscribed men to the various thugs in residence, instructing them to kill the senators and seize whatever moveable wealth they can carry. He quells a quarrel over the spoils by pointing out each collegia captain will end up with more cash and goods than he ever dreamed of owning, then proposes an astonishing way to spend their ill-gotten gains: On bread and fish for distribution to the people of Rome. The crooks and strongmen are skeptical, but Vorenus has his reasons: Whoever wins the upcoming civil war, Rome will be at peace again soon, and the old days of mob rule by knife and cudgel-wielding thugs will come to an end. "The collegia must change, or die," he insists. It's a profoundly weird moment: Vorenus is proposing that the spoils of the bloodiest proscription since Sulla be used to launch a new movement of peace and goodwill. Yet somehow, as he explains it, it seems to make sense.

Against this backdrop, a little domestic drama begins to play out between Vorena the elder, Vorenus' eldest daughter. When Gaia dolls her up with some makeup, Vorenus gets irate and demands she wipe it off. The weeping girl heads off to the streets, where she attracts (and returns) an admiring glance from a smarmy-looking character in an expensive tunic. Young love in bloom? Maybe, but I suspect there's something more sinister going on here...

Pullo, given the task of murdering Cicero at his country estate, grabs his sword and starts on his way, then suddenly announces it's a beautiful day for a picnic, and why not bring the whole family along!  And so the whole Pullo / Vorenus extended clan head off into a springtime countryside fairly bursting with greenery and blossoms. After some fun and games, Pullo hops on his horse to "take care of business," promising to be back in a jiff.

Cicero, meanwhile, has just been warned that Antony and Octavian have reconciled. Realizing the means the end of all his plots and dreams of restoring the Republic, he begins dictating a letter to Brutus, warning him of an impending attack. He hands the letter off to a messenger just as a jaunty Pullo arrives on the scene. There follows a bizarre exchange of pleasantries: Cicero is "honored" that the famous Titus Pullo will be his butcher, and predicts "my name will be in all the history books, and my killer's name will live on also." He stops his faithful servant Tyro from trying pathetically to defend his master's life. Pullo takes some peaches from the orchard "for the wife," politely asking for permission first. Cicero asks for and receives a few moments to collect his thoughts, then announces he is ready. Pullo has him kneel, then, ever so gently...drives his sword down through Cicero's shoulder blade and into his heart. So ends the life of Rome's greatest politician. Gods, how I'll miss him.

Back at the picnic, Vorenus' little boy Lucius is nearly run down by Cicero's mounted messenger. The horse rears and and nearly tramples the frightened kid. Vorenus yanks the oaf off his horse and nearly throttles him, but calms down and sends him on his way. During the scuffle, the messenger's letter pack falls into some bushes. The kids find it, open it, and make a hat out of Cicero's letter of warning. On such small incidents does the fate of might Empires turn.

Now ensconced in Rome, the Triumvirs keep adding names to the proscription list, making Octavian's friend Agrippa more and more uncomfortable. Maecenas, ever ruthless and practical, says they'll need the money for the war against the assassins. Octavian tries to play it down the middle, suggesting that the killings continue, but "more slowly" (in fact we see here how Agrippa and Maecenas are set up as two sides of Octavian's character-- the angel and devil sitting on his shoulders, whispering in his ears). Agrippa excuses himself and runs into Octavia outside. She gets off one of her classic zingers: "I can see why you're tired. Killing people is tiring work, even defenseless ones." Agrippa mournfully professes his love for her, but insists that it's hopeless due to his low-class upbringing. But now Octavia is warming to him: "You have risen entirely on your merit. That is commendable, in a way." Suddenly, they're kissing, and that quickly leads to...

A wonderful lovemaking scene in some lower-class loft somewhere in town. Just when you thought the series was heading down a dark path with all violence and bloodshed and no significant female nudity, we get to see this attractive couple in all sorts of positions, compromising and otherwise. While Agrippa gets up to wash off in something suspiciously like a modern shower, Octavia sits fetchingly naked on the bedside, chatting with him. Now that's great television!

Meanwhile, on the Aventine, Vorenus presides over the distribution of bread and fish to a famished populace. He hopes the peaceful scene is a sign of things to come. "It's good to see you so happy and full of purpose," says Pullo, and we can only agree. But Pullo is worried about his own future in a world at peace. That evening, he pulls out his old, battered legionary helmet and starts to polish it. Eirene comes in, all weepy, and informs him she's pregnant. The big lug stands stupefied for a moment, then grins. (But of course Pullo already might be a daddy. Remember Cleopatra's kid?)

Next day, the Triumviral army gathers to march out of Rome. Agrippa, fresh from trysting with Octavia, makes a late entrance, and Octavia flutters in a few moments later, all flushed with passion. Any idiot (even Atia) can see what's going on here, but Octavian seems oblivious, preoccupied with thoughts of war and revenge. In gorgeous array, their feather crests resplendent in the sun, the officers mount up and move out, the long lines of legionaries falling in behind. Gosh, ain't war poetic?

Incredibly, the entire legionary force seems to take only a few minutes to zip from Italy to northern Greece. Maybe Lepidus is Mr. Spock after all, and has a transporter at his disposal. Anyway...

Brutus is lying in his command tent, admiring the gold signet ring his mom Servilia has sent him, when an aide announces that the combined armies of Octavian and Antony are at hand. Cassius does some quick calculation-- the enemy has 19 legions to their 14-- and sensibly orders a retreat. But Brutus countermands him: "We will not retreat. No more running." Then he launches into truncated a version of  Henry V's St. Crispin's Day seech: "If we win, all the more glory for us. And if we are to die? This is as good a place as any. It's in the hands of the Gods."

The two armies form up opposite one another, in great rectangular blocks of men-- the famous Triplex Aces formation that won Rome so many battles. It's the most thrilling set-up since the army of Crassus advanced on Spartacus. Brutus reminds Cassius that it's his birthday, and apologizes for not having "baked you a cake." Then Cassius gives the order to advance... the great blocks of men converge...

The lines come together almost gingerly, with what looks like thousands of mail-clad soldiers doing the proper Roman crabwalk, crouched behind their shields and stabbing at their opposite. But the whole battle scene has an oddly hesitant, grinding quality to it. There's something missing, here... That's it, pila! No one throwns his pilum, no missiles sail through the air. We see none of the javelins, arrows, darts, ballista bolts, or sling bullets that would have added some visual panache, not to mention accuracy, to this strangely static combat.

Well, at least, it's not the standard Hollywood depiction of ancient battle as a wild melee, with no formations, rhyme, or reason... until we pull back at one point and the whole scene has degenerated into just such a formless set-to. Sigh.

At the Triumvir command post, Octavian anxiously wonders what's going on. "No idea, my boy," says the jovial Antony. "When in doubt, attack!" He leads his retainers off in a charge, and after a moment, Octavian sends Agrippa off after them. Pointedly, he stays behind, wanting no part of the action.

In the thick of the battle, Cassius' men form a testudo to protect him from a hail of arrows (finally!), which seem to come out of nowhere. Nevertheless, within a few minutes he's taken a bad one and is rushed to Brutus, where he breathes his last. Seeing the Triumviral army bearing down on him (having regained its ordered ranks), Brutus takes off his cuirass and advances to fight the thousands single-handed, a scene strongly reminiscent of Richard Burton's solo charge in the 1964 Cleopatra. He plunges into the enemy ranks, gets swarmed under and stabbed repeatedly from every angle, enjoying a poetically Caesar-like death. Which is probably exactly what he had in mind.

Later, Antony and Octavian survey the smoke and wreckage of the day's gruesome work. Agrippa reports that Brutus' body hasn't yet been found. As they pass, we catch site of a black-toothed looter search among the corpses... and lifting Brutus' arm and hand, still bearing the prized signet ring. In a nice touch, he unceremoniously clips off the finger and removes the gleaming ring.

So ends the Roman Civil War, Phase II, and this episode of Rome.

Historical analysis:

What they got right: The Proscription, in all its bloody glory. I like that they make Octavian the principal author of this nasty episode: Though he later claimed it was all Mark Antony's idea, something about his coolly calculating nature suggests otherwise. While the death of Cicero doesn't play out exactly as it occurred (Cicero was fleeing in a litter with his brother when Antony's troops caught up to him), it has all the poignancy of his sad, martyr's end. Also, I'm glad to see stalwart Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa getting his due (as well as some nooky). This guy was a strategic genius who remained steadfastly loyal to his friend Octavian and made his transformation into Augustus possible.

What they got wrong: After a period of following actual events pretty closely, it's rather distressing to see the story line diverging significantly from the historical record. Philippi is depicted as a single set-piece battle that happens almost immediately after the armies meet up. In fact, the campaign was two battles following a drawn-out siege. The armies of Brutus and Cassius actually outnumbered those of Antony and Octavian, but the latter had more of Caesar's hardened veterans. Cassius killed himself after mistakenly believing his army had been overrun; Brutus followed suit after fleeing the scene of the second battle. His death was a lot less dramatic than depicted, though I admit to a certain satisfaction at seeing his skinny carcass pierced by multiple gladii. I never much liked Brutus, either the real character or his incarnation in Rome. He was a smug, vicious, venal little ingrate, not the paragon portrayed in Shakespeare.

Also (thanks to John Maddox Roberts for pointing this out on the Roman Army Talk board), one important character seems to be missing. That's Fulvia, the ferocious first wife of Mark Antony, who was a major player in Roman politics and ended up fighting her own civil war against Octavian. To some extent, her character seems to have been absorbed into Atia, but that really doesn't do her justice. And it's a little late to bring her into the picture now, what with Cleopatra looming in the shadows.

Finally, it must be said: The big battle scene, which this entire season has been building toward, is a disappointment. It's frustrating, since the producers do know their stuff when it comes to Roman tactics (I credit John Milius here, a true student of military history), and we do see some formation fighting and line shifting (though I'm skeptical of the whole "centurion blowing whistle" bit). But they went halfway down the path to an accurate portrayal of Roman-style combat-- and then wimped out, or got lazy, or ran out of money, or something. Even aside from the lack of accuracy with regards to missile weapons, the scene has little energy and none of the dazzling visual flair we got in the Caesar's Triumph sequence from the first episode.

Questions: Did the "birthday cake" originate in Ancient Rome? That little exchange between Brutus and Cassius so, but I'm not sure. If not, it's a jarring anachronism. If so, it's one of those nice "I didn't know that!" moments. Also, the previews said the next episode would be coming "in two weeks." TWO weeks? How? Why? How will I survive? (Update: Someopne pointed out to me that the Academy Awards are next Sunday night. But do they show that on HBO?)

Predictions: Well, Rome can't well settle down to 10 years of relative peace until Civil War Phase III, can it? So, either we fast-forward a few years to find Antony lolling in Cleopatra's arms in Egypt, or events will have to be otherwise truncated and compressed significantly. I predict Mascius, the number three man in the Aventine gang, will double-cross Vorenus and attempt to take him out. I see some sort of bond starting to develop between Vorenus and his sister-in-law Lydie. Pullo will be torn between the demands of fatherhood and his former life as a soldier and bully-boy. Finally, Atia's not going to be happy about how Octavian plans to cement the alliance with Antony...

Questions? Comments? Critiques? Post them on the Roman Army Talk RomeBlog Thread, HERE.

SEASON II, EPISODE V

Episode title: Heroes of the Republic

My oh my, we’re already halfway through the second (and last) season. Tempus fugite indeed!

The theme of this episode seems to be, “get back to where you once belonged.” In the opening sequence, Timon gets back in touch with his Jewish roots by attending temple with his brother Levi. A jump cut later, we’re deep in the forests of Cisalpine Gaul, where Mark Antony, now sporting a bushy beard like some sylvan wild man, re-bonds with his soldiers by serving up some fresh venison. Back at his old Aventine “mob headquarters” haunts in Rome, Vorenus succinctly introduces his traumatized kids to the various low-lifes under his command: “These are my children. They have been disgraced by serving in slavery. The eldest has been prostituted. The boy was fathered by another man. You will treat them with respect and kindness.” And of course, everyone does.

But the kids have nothing but contempt for their repentant dad (and who could blame them, seeing how he caused the death of their mom, cursed them, and left them for Erastes Fulmen to sell into slavery?). Though they play at being obedient for the moment, the eldest girl, Vorena, is just looking for a chance to lead her siblings in an escape.

With his army in control of Rome, Octavian seems to hold all the cards. But in a meeting with Cicero, he seems almost deferential. Cicero tells him his requested Triumph would be unseemly, since his “victory” came over other Romans. “I bend to your wise counsel—no Triumph,” the young Caesar agrees. “But I was rather thinking of taking the Consul’s chair…” Cicero is taken aback—Octavian is only 19. But then he warms to the idea of using the kid as a kind of figurehead to run Rome the way he’s always dreamed. As he leaves the meeting, he snorts derision to his secretary Tyro: “Bumptious young fool, like a child playing a grownup.”

Octavia meets up with her brother, and is taken aback by the rather insufferable prig he’s become. She insists that he come home and reconcile with their mother Atia, but Octavian will have none of it, insisting that Atia beg his forgiveness for allowing her boyfriend Mark Antony to beet the living snot out of him. Octavia is baffled as to why her brother covets power so much and accuses him of plunging the family into debt so he can “play at soldiers.” Octavian goes dead cold and dismisses his once-beloved sister. But a short time later Atia herself shows up and, to Octavian’s surprise, grovels at his feet, heaping scorn on “that pig Mark Antony” and begging his forgiveness. He grants it, with the appropriate skepticism (for good reason—a close-up shows Atia is utterly dry-eyed as she sniff’s back fake tears).

Back at the Aventine, Vorenus sets things straight with Mascius, the old comrade-in-arms who’s been running the gang since Vorenus took off with Mark Antony. “I’m one, Pullo is two and you’re three.” Mascius is miffed to be behind Pullo, seeing as how he kept things running well in the boss’s absence.  But Vorenus is adamant, and I think he’ll soon regret how he next puts things: “If I die, Pullo is boss, and if he dies, you’re boss.” On Octavian’s instructions, Vorenus arranges a truce with the other Aventine gangs, which gets off to at least a somewhat promising start.  Later, Pullo has a sweet little moment with his ex-slave and now wife Eirene, who pouts that he loves Vorenus more than her. No, he protests—if they were both drowning, he’d definitely save her first. “Because you’re half his weight,” he adds as an afterthought. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to get the joke.

Meanwhile, up in Transalpine Gaul, a baffled Marcus Lepidus is brought into Mark Antony’s tent and introduced to the furry rebel. It seems he’d been sent north by the Senate with two legions to finish the job begun by Hirtius, Pansa and Octavian, but his men abruptly deserted to Antony’s side. Antony good naturedly chides the stuffy Lepidus: “Soldiers like a little spit and dirt in their leaders. You’re too noble for them.” Then he graciously asks Lepidus to join him as his second in command. Raising a n eyebrow in Spock-fashion, Lepidus replies: “I can hardly refuse, now, can I?”

Back in the Senate, Cicero proudly introduces Octavian as the new Consul, to deafening applause from the toga-clad galleries.  (Do the producers realize, or care, that there were two Consuls in the Republic? Because we only seem to see one, ever.) But after some opening boilerplate about restoring “a proud Republic of virtuous women and honest men,” he stuns the crowd by announcing his first act will to be to avenge his adoptive father Julius Caesar’s murder, and demands that the Senate declare Brutus and Cassius “murderers and enemies of the state.” Cicero approaches and stammers out that “this is not what we agreed,” but Octavian orders him away from his chair. To emphasize the point, armed Centurions enter the chamber, sliding their swords half out of their scabbards. “Does anyone care to speak against the motion?” he asks sweetly.  After the fiasco, Cicero sputters: "I've been outmaneuvered by a child." He next dictates a letter to Brutus and Cassius, now busily raising an army in Asia, and addresses them as “heroes of the Republic.”

As evening descends on the Aventine, the tasty good-time girl Gaia offers herself to Vorenus, who after some hesitation, accepts her proposition. After some energetic and rather angry coupling, Vorenus dismisses her and tells her to take the money on the table. “I’m not a whore,” she protests, and says she bedded him because, well, she kinda likes him. “Oh, what a happy couple we’d make,” scoffs Vorenus, and repeats his demand that she leave and take his money. She does, reluctantly, but we haven’t heard the last of this determined lady.

We next move to an opium den somewhere in Rome, where Octavian’s crony Maecenas has dragged Agrippa to enjoy some old-fashioned Roman decadence. But Agrippa is shocked to discover Octavia lolling about in a stupor. He gallantly scoops her up and returns her to Atia. Octavia is angry and disappointed that he “kidnapped her” from a perfectly good orgy before the fun really started, but Atia lays into her in good motherly fashion. Agrippa announces that he loves Octavia so much, he’d “pull the sky down for her,” then storms out.

 In Asia, Brutus and Cassius eagerly read Cicero’s call for help and gather their armies to march against Rome. Back in Rome, Cicero gets their reply and pounces on Octavian, warning that unless he surrenders the Consulship and control of his army, Brutus and Cassius will descend on him with 20 legions. But if Cicero thinks he’s turned the tables on the upstart, he’s got another thing coming. He didn’t count on Octavian’s secret weapon, Atia, who arranges a truce between Octavian and Mark Antony, uniting their veteran legions. Bring on the Second Triumvirate!

On the Aventine, Vorenus’ children swipe some money and try to run away to their Aunt Lyde, who’s become some kind of acolyte at a temple. She’s sympathetic, but tells them to go back to Vorenus, who, despite everything, will care for them out of a sense of duty if nothing else. The alternative is a life of destitution and / or prostitution. They return, just in time to prepare a meal for their Papa, Pullo and Eirene. Vorenus manages a smile, happy to have his family back. It’s a nice, cozy, domestic scene—until we close with Vorena making the “curse” sign behind her back.

Historical analysis:

What they got right: The plotline follows the general sweep of events pretty well, although one could quibble with the details. Octavian did indeed march his army into Rome and force the Senate to name him Consul, where he did demand that the Senate condemn the assassins as enemies of the state. The scene with soldiers entering the Senate chamber apparently happened pretty much as described. But though he tried to make nice with Cicero and the other old guard of the Senate, they treated him coolly. Cicero famously boasted that Octavian should be be given "honors, praises, and the coup de grace." The reception ultimately drove him to make common cause with Mark Antony, with Lepidus as a buffer between them. And so began the reign of terror.

What they got wrong: Lepidus was never captured by Antony, nor did his legions desert to his side. He was hardly the cipher portrayed in Shakespeare, either. It was Lepidus, not Atia, that made the Second Triumvirate possible, since he played power broker between Antony and Octavian, who were hardly on speaking terms. I've already mentioned the curious lack of a second Consul--did the producers feel having two heads of the Republic would confuse viewers? Also, what's with the rough, unfinished edges on the senatorial togas? The senators were the richest guys in Rome--don't you think they could afford a decent tailor?

Questions: Did Romans smoke opium? I know they used it in various potions and concoctions, but I don't think I've ever encountered a reference to lighting a pipe and / or inhaling opium fumes. I could be wrong, though -- any experts in historical pharmacology out there who might know?

Predictions: Whoo, boy-- from the looks of the previews, we've got a big battle scene coming up, and none too soon! Can't wait! I also imagine next episode may well be Cicero's swan song. I'll be sorry to see him go.

I see Gaia slowly working her way into Vorenus' affections (though no one will ever replace Niobe), and his kids' hard hearts starting to soften, maybe. But Pullo's wife Eirene's worries about her husbands affections toward Vorenus don't bode well. Neither does the simmering discontent of Mascius.

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SEASON II, EPISODE IV

Episode title: Testudo et Lepus

Plot summery (with asides): Just when you thought Atia was about to go the way of “Uncle Caesar,” her slave Althea saves her by sneaking a taste of the poisoned stew she was about to serve her mistress. In saving Atia, Althea dies horribly (poor Atia—think of all the denarii she’ll have to shell out for a new scullery made!). Duro, the little weasel suborned by Servilia in the previous episode to poison Atia, is tracked down and is nastily tortured by Timon while Atia looks on in enjoyment. Stumbling on the bloody scene, Octavia gets off a couple of classic lines: “What have you been doing to the servants that they want to murder you?” and “This is wrong in so many ways, I can't even get started.” Timon dispatches Duro and, when he comes home covered in blood from a good night’s work, gets in a flaming row with his brother, who accuses him of abandoning his faith to become an “animal” for the hated Romans.

Meanwhile, up in Northern Italy, the Senatorial armies led by the consuls Hirtius and Pansa, along with the upstart Octavian, have clashed and badly mangled Mark Antony’s “rebel” force (funny, Antony was the legitimate Consul just one episode ago— and you thought U.S. politics moved fast!). Pullo, riding hell-for leather from Rome to find Vorenus with news of his children’s survival, arrives at a body-strewn battlefield, but no sign of his friend. While he looks through the piled corpses, a handsome young officer rides up on a white horse. Surprise—it’s Octavian, who has grown up so much in the past few months that he’s now played by a different actor (Simon Woods). It seems the consuls Hirtius and Pansa both died in the fighting, Antony has fled the field, and Octavian (who now insists on being called Caesar) is the last man standing, and thus the victor. Delighted to see his old chum, Octavian gives Pullo a document with his personal seal and points him toward Antony’s fleeing army on his quest to find Vorenus. In a nice little scene, we meet Octavian’s right-and-left-hand men, Agrippa and Maecenas, who will soon end up as a mini-triumvirate guiding Rome. Agrippa gets sent on an errand mission back to Rome, which he’s only too happy to take, since he’s got a serious letch for Octavia!

Pullo catches up with Antony’s retreating army and finds Vorenus, whose face is still set in that grim “son of Hades” mask. There’s a wonderful moment when Pullo reveals his kids are still alive, and you can just see hope start to flicker behind those dead eyes. A wounded, snarling Antony nevertheless has enough humanity to give Vorenus leave to find his children, but warns he isn’t beaten yet and has some choice words about what he’ll do to Octavian when next they meet. A quick “aside” shot shows Brutus and Cassius busily raising an army in Turkey, apparently unaware of the breech between Antony and the Senate. Brutus looks as if his “born again” experience in the previous episode has done him some good.

Back in Rome, Brutus’ mom Servilia is kidnapped by Atia’s henchmen and subjected to an excruciating, and virtually unwatchable, torture scene (though we know that on some level Servilia well deserves it). But when Atia tells Timon to deliver the coup de gras, he has a sudden attack of conscience and, channeling John Hurt in “Elephant Man,” screams “I am not an animal!” He allows Servilia to flee, horribly beaten and bloodied, to the pitiless streets of Rome (another scene eerily reminiscent of “Elephant Man”—what’s going on, here?). Deserted by Timon and her servents, Atia is left to pout and ponder. And so the celebrity death match between Roman uber-matrons goes on.

Mercifully, the scene shifts back to Pullo and Vorenus, en route to the South Italian slave camp to find his lost children. The slow reawakening of their friendship, and Vorenus’ rediscovery of a mission in life, are like a ray of sunlight in the deep gloom of night that this season of “Rome” has so far been. Pullo gently warns that, if his daughters are indeed still alive in the camp, they’ll likely be badly scarred by the experience, to which Vorenus can only grunt assent. Pullo (whose own growing humanity and gentling have been one of the few things making this dark, mean season bearable) asks Vorenus what he’ll do about the boy. “Honor demands he die,” is the gruff reply. But doubt is visibly working at the edges of his grim code of living.

Agrippa arrives in Rome, where he has a lovely, fumbling moment with Octavia (who is not nearly as besotted with big, strapping Agrippa as vice-versa) before heading off to present Cicero with Octavian’s list of demands— a Consulship, a Triumph and a big bonus for his troops. Of course, Octavian’s army is marching toward Rome even now to make sure his demands are met. It’s fun to watch Cicero’s smug satisfaction over Antony’s defeat slowly melt into the dim realization that this stripling boy may have a lot more of Caesar in him than he reckoned with.

Vorenus and Pullo finally reach the slave camp, which is like something from Dante’s Inferno. The girls are alive, but have obviously suffered the torments of hell. The boy appears, looking stoically cherubic and none too worse for the wear. Vorenus has an awful moment of indecision— before catching the lad in his arms like a loving father (OK, I sniffed back a few there. So waddya want to make of it?). The slave overseer, of course, doesn’t survive the encounter. Kids in tow, Pullo and Vorenus stride off for further adventures with renewed purpose.

Overall review: Best episode of the season thus far. I’m going to really miss Max Pirkis as Octavian, who was one of the very best parts of a stellar cast, but I guess, barring some means of accelerating the ageing process, a change had to be made. Anyway, Simon Woods looks kinda sorta like young Max, though I’m not getting the spark of sober intelligence Max effortlessly exuded, and the transition was handled about as well as an awkward situation like this can be. I’ll give the new guy a chance before I pass judgment. As you can probably tell, I’m thrilled to see Vorenus’s dead psyche spring back to life and his friendship with Pullo reborn—their fraternal relationship was the best thing about the first season, and in the first few episodes this season veered dangerously close to losing this essential ingredient. It looks like Antony and Atia are going to be the next characters to experience the kind of personal reversals and “bottoming out” that has been a hallmark of the series so far. If you know your history, you’ll realize we’re soon going to lose another key character who I’ll miss terribly, though I won’t let on who just yet (hint—the player’s initials are DB).

Historical analysis:

What they got right: Just about everything in this episode, although, as usual, some events have been telescoped. I am especially astonished to see the brief, bloody civil war between the Consuls Hirtius and Pansa, with Octavian as an ally, against Mark Antony portrayed pretty much as it happened—this messy, inconvenient episode is skipped over in Shakespeare and every other cinematic treatment in the rush to get on with the Second Triumvirate and war against the assassins. One minor quibble, though: I’m getting tired of arriving at the body-strewn battle field after the clash has taken place. Come on, let’s see some real Roman-on-Roman action! Line on line, cohort on cohort, pilum volleys, shields bashing, swords thrusting— the whole deal! So far, we've only gotten a little taste of Roman-style combat in Episode 1 (aside from the wonderful gladiatorial carnage in Episode 11). I, for one, want more!

I’m also gratified to see Agrippa and Maecenas get their due as crucial architects of Octavian / Augustus’ “New World Order.” For many years, these guys were a Terrific Trio (or Tres Amigos or whatever) whose skills perfectly complemented one another—Octavian as the brains, Agrippa as the strong right arm, Maecenas as the limp left wrist. OK, sorry about the gay-bashing there—Maecenas, with his political insight and mastery of style and imagery, was exceedingly important in the scheme of things. I hope they do his complex character justice. 

What they got wrong: When Octavian’s getting ready to address his troops, you see a few lorica segmentatas among the mass of largely chainmail-clad legionaries. This might be just shade early for the earliest introduction of the seg (likely about 20-10 BC on current evidence), but that’s not my main complaint. It’s that these are the same faux Trajan’s Column-style segs you see in countless Italian sword-and-sandles productions (most recently in “The Nativity Story” and “Passion of Christ”). Given that the producers have gone to some lengths to provide a semblance of accurate armor (chainmail, mostly—OK, I know the helmets aren’t right, but they’re obviously closer than most any other production and were purpose-made for Rome), this is a real disappointment. Can’t someone just discretely set fire to whatever Italian costume warehouse these pieces of crap are stored in? Then they could just order up a bunch of Deepeeka Corbridge cuirasses and we’d have mostly accurate armor from here on out!

Predictions: No secrets here historically. Antony and Octavian patch things up (at knife-point), with a new character (enter Lepidus) as a buffer. More nasty surprises are in store for Cicero. Brutus and Cassius gird their loins for the upcoming struggle. Cleopatra plays coy on the sidelines.

On the smaller scale, Servilia’s going to scheme up some new tasty piece of revenge on Atia, or die trying (or, just possibly, she’s so tired and traumatized by the whole thing that she gives it all up to become a priestess of Isis or something). Maybe Atia will play some role in reconciling her son and her lover? Antonia is also about to learn out just how far her brother will go for the sake of political strategery.

Pullo and Vorenus? That’s tough, though I get the vague sense they’re going to end up on opposite sides of the upcoming civil war between Octavian and Antony. But that’s years down the road.

Question: To whom or what does the title, Testudo et Lepus (“tortoise and hare”) refer? Octavian and Antony? Pullo and Vorenus? Beats me.

Questions? Comments? Critiques? Post them on the Roman Army Talk RomeBlog Thread, HERE.

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