Post by J.D. BaldwinThere was a great, waggish review in the NYT that someone posted over
in alt.tv.hbo. It's worth reading just for the description of Max
Pirkis as "Doogie Howser, B.C."
I have to agree that Pirkis looks like a dead ringer for Doogie Howser!
I wish that I would have thought of that first. Anyway, here's one
from the NY Sun:
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August 26, 2005 Edition > Section: Arts and Letters
NY Sun
Not Built in a Day
By DAVID BLUM
August 26, 2005
"I shall be a good politician, even if it kills me," declares a defiant
Mark Antony in the midst of the mayhem that has developed by Episode 6
of "Rome," HBO's ambitious and addictive new series set in 52 B.C.
Speaking a little more directly to the point, Anthony adds with a sly
smile: "Or if it kills anyone else, for that matter." By its sixth
hour, "Rome" resembles HBO's signature series, "The Sopranos," in its
characters' predilection for egregious violence. A moneylender has,
only moments earlier, commanded the soldier Lucius Vorenus - one of the
show's two central figures and not prone to acts of senseless brutality
- to break the arm of a man who has not paid his bills. Frighteningly,
the parallels between ancient Rome and contemporary New Jersey grow all
too apparent when it comes to matters of money.
"Rome" defines the peculiar and unique nature of television in the way
it builds slowly but with precision and skill over a period of weeks;
viewers (or critics) who expect a show like "Rome" to take off like a
rocket haven't been watching much television lately. The first three
episodes take their time in establishing the oddities of this ancient
world - its bawdy sexuality, its rampant killing, its obsession with
political intrigue. Audiences will need to be patient and attentive -
but if they can manage it, the rewards begin to flower in Episode 3 and
reach a frenzy by Episode 6. By that time the lines of battle have been
clearly drawn over the future of this fabled Republic, and it doesn't
matter that we already know who won.
The main storyline - at least in the first season of this co-production
of HBO and the BBC - concerns the machinations over control of Rome,
mostly between Julius Caesar, the great soldier who has returned
victorious in his conquest of Gaul, and Pompey Magnus, his friend who
controls the Roman Senate. But unlike this summer's earlier, vastly
inferior ABC miniseries, "Empire," on virtually the same topic, "Rome"
defines its mission through two ordinary men: the soldiers Lucius
Vorenus and Titus Pullo, who bridge the chasm between Rome's ruling
class and its downtrodden masses, and in doing so give the story a
stunning human dimension. One a drunken lout and the other a struggling
family man, Vorenus and Pullo manage to maneuver themselves into the
front lines of history.
But for those who find Vorenus and Pullo a tired device (and it does
become one at times) the same will never be said of Atia - Caesar's
sultry niece, and love interest to Mark Antony, among several others -
who steals "Rome" blind. The flame haired British actress Polly Walker
ignites every scene of "Rome" she's in; in one episode she's offering
her daughter as a wife to Pompey, in another she delivers a naked man
with a large penis (politely tied with a green bow) to Servilia,
Caesar's mistress. "Who doesn't like a large penis?" she asks of no one
in particular. That's the kind of rhetorical question that keeps "Rome"
humming. Ms. Walker's fearless performance (including scenes of full
frontal nudity) will engage audiences long after they've grown bored
with the polemical debates over governance and power. It's hard to
imagine Laurence Olivier spitting out a cherry pit with more panache
than Polly Walker.
The name you'll most remember from the credits of "Rome"(done memorably
in graffiti lettering) is that of Bruno Heller, a previously obscure
television writer who's responsible for the first six episodes - a
remarkable balancing act, given the complexity of his story and the
vast number of characters and threads. Mr. Heller (helped by co-creator
John Milius, the famed screenwriter of "Apocalypse Now" and "Dirty
Harry") has concocted a world - and several subcultures surviving
alongside one another - unlike any ever depicted on a weekly television
series, and not just because of its coarseness and vulgarity. (And
those are compliments.) It's an amazing achievement to have created a
universe so dependent on intrigue; remarkably little actually happens
here, and that's one of the show's enduring pleasures. Like "The
Sopranos," the tension mounts slowly but inexorably - and with just
enough sex and bloodshed to keep us attached to its underlying and
intellectually stimulating premise.
What "Rome" lacks, at least so far, is a villain to root for; no star
turns here rival the thunderous presence of James Gandolfini in "The
Sopranos," or even Ian McShane in "Deadwood." The earnest behavior of
Lucius Vorenus and Titus Pullo starts to grate after a while; it's like
focusing a mob story on the hired goons. The performances of Ciaran
Hinds as Julius Caesar and Kenneth Cranham as Pompey Magnus lack the
necessary charms; James Purefoy brings some edge to the role of Mark
Antony, but not enough to compensate. Of far more interest is Max
Pirkis as Octavian, Atia's teenage son, who's likely to become a
central player in future episodes - he's a cunning killer in training,
and fun to watch. Sadly, with the exception of Polly Walker, the women
of "Rome" are as dull as they are beautiful; never have so many olive
skinned young actresses with copious black ringlets appeared together
in a single series.
Is "Rome" a show audiences should embrace? This is the kind of series
that vexes critics who vote with their thumbs, and who have already
shown an inclination to dismiss it as a noble failure. While at times
it may seem ploddingly dull, at others it's impossible not to be
exhilarated by the show's spectacular depiction of Rome in all its
wretchedness. The sight of brain surgery being performed without
anesthesia will repel some and amaze others, as will the seemingly
endless (and sometimes gratuitous) scenes of graphic sex and brutality.
At times even the sex scenes - as shockingly frequent as they are - may
seem superfluous sops to an audience that producers fear will become
bored by the endless gabbing about politics, power, and war. But most
of the time, the creative team behind "Rome" (its directors include
"Coal Miner's Daughter's" Michael Apted, Allen Coulter of "The
Sopranos" and "Six Feet Under's" Alan Poul) create an air of
verisimilitude that's astonishing for a television series set in a
world lit only by fire. Audiences who flip away during its most
discomfiting moments would be well advised to take a deep breath and
turn the channel right back to "Rome," or risk missing a great new
series in the making.
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I liked it.
-Junior