Part I
The ancient world as serial television drama
When Samsung introduced its new curved television screen in 2014, I was struck not by the technology but by its official television advert. Rather than using science fiction or another ultra-modern environment to showcase this innovative new gadget, the advertisement featured a father and son in their pyjamas in the middle of a gladiatorial arena. All the tropes of screen antiquity were represented in the 30-second clip: the crowds, the arena, the evil emperor and of course the gladiators with their swords and sandals that defined the genre. What this advert encapsulated for me was not only that the audience's interest in antiquity was alive and well, but also that there was an intrinsic connection between fictional antiquity and the (no longer so) small screen.
Less than a decade earlier, the television series Rome (2005–8) managed to capture massive audiences in the UK and the US, just as its famous predecessor I, Claudius (1976) had been a cultural icon in the 1970s. Throughout television history, high-profile shows like these have appropriated classical sources to attract sophisticated and mature audiences – often through boundary-pushing portrayals of sex and violence. Yet, other shows, like the successful Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995–99) and its spin-off Xena: Warrior Princess (1995–2001), have achieved a cult following by happily mixing various ancient myths and settings with very contemporary ideas and language in order to create a more family-oriented entertainment. All these programmes are part of a tradition of representing the ancient world on television, which, as this book hopes to show, is just as fascinating as its history on the big screen. Although it is very much indebted to its cinematic predecessors, TV antiquity has from the outset tried to develop its very own style and language. In this way, it also added a new dimension to representations of antiquity in popular culture. Yet, for a long time, antiquity in television has remained in the shadow of its more spectacular cousin. This might have been due to its strong association with the large-screen epic form. A number of books have explored representations of antiquity in Hollywood cinema and beyond, e.g. Elley, 1984; Wyke, 1997; Solomon, 2001; Richards, 2008; Blanshard and Shahabudin, 2011. Several recent publications have focused on popular contemporary television shows like HBO–BBC's Rome (2005–8) and STARZ Spartacus (2010–13), such as Cyrino, 2008 and 2015, while others mention select television programmes in works that focus primarily on the large screen (Solomon, 2001; Richards, 2008) or the ancient world in popular culture more broadly (Joshel et al., 2001). However, though much has been written about the ancient world on the large screen and some recent small-screen successes, a systematic and more substantial examination of the portrayal of antiquity on television is so far lacking. In addition, as most of these works have been written by classicists, the focus has naturally been on the reception of the ancient world, rather than on television history and culture. This book aims to address this gap in the literature in two ways. First, by offering a systematic overview of the genre throughout television history, and second by connecting the representations of antiquity to a wider discussion of developments in television aesthetics and style. Here, I will demonstrate why the genre is relevant not only to those interested in representations of the ancient world but also to scholars of television history and aesthetics more broadly.
Somewhat paradoxically, the emergence of television has often been credited for the popularity of large-screen epics during the 1950s and 1960s. For example, Jeffrey Richards (2008: 53) writes that ‘[m]ore feature-length films based on the Bible and/or the history of the Roman Empire were made by Hollywood between 1950 and 1965 than in any other period of film history. Why? One obvious reason is the rise of television.’ More specifically, during this period, cinema could offer what television could not – vivid colours and enormous scale. The ancient world epic allowed filmmakers to showcase the technological advances of their time, such as Technicolor, Panavision or CinemaScope, all of which featured prominently on the film posters advertising those spectacles. Yet, if screen size, colour and spectacle are indeed the main features of screen antiquity, then how can television offer an effective and stimulating portrayal of the ancient world? The case studies in this book will provide answers to this question by emphasising the features that are arguably distinct to television, namely seriality, complexity and intimacy.
In addition, recent developments in technology have created new opportunities for representing the ancient world on-screen, including some of the elements that were for so long the unique selling point of cinema. This book aims to explore these developments and outline the trajectory of antiquity through television history. It will investigate how the various technological and commercial developments in the television industry home and abroad have impacted on this specific type of programme. As we will see, these developments are also always linked to broader cultural debates, for example around censorship and the educational aspect of television.
As noted, cinematic antiquity has long been one of the key subjects for large-scale epics. From the first silent film productions in the 1910s and 1920s and the golden age of the genre after the Second World War to its recent revival with films like Ridley Scott's Gladiator (2000), so-called sword-and-sandal epics have experienced a number of ups and downs throughout its history. Some scholars have tried to categorise these various waves of popularity, such as Michael G. Cornelius (2011), who argues that early productions such as Cabiria (1914) were the first-wave, Italian peplum films of the 1950s and 1960s the second, followed by a third wave of films in the early 1980s (Conan, the Barbarian (1982); Lou Ferigno's Hercules (1983); the original Clash of the Titans (1981)), and the recent – fourth-wave – revival. Not all scholars agree on his inclusion of the more fantastical works of the 1980s into this genealogy. This already indicates one of the key issues for all of us interested in the topic of screen antiquity, namely where to draw the boundaries of the genre. Before I address this issue, however, we need to emphasise, as Alistair Blanshard and Kim Shahabudin (2011: 218) have done, that the Graeco-Roman epic never really disappeared from our screens in between those high points and that epic films set in antiquity ‘continued to play a significant role in shaping the reception of the ancient world in popular culture’. For example, many of the popular sword-and-sandal epics of the 1950s and 1960s had a second life on the small screen in the subsequent decades. The authors further suggest that classical epics ‘proved to have certain advantages here [as their] length makes them highly suitable to fill daytime television viewing slots on Sundays and public holidays [and their] coy attitude to sexuality and largely off-screen violence make them inoffensive for family viewing’ (Blanshard and Shahabudin, 2011: 218). As we will see throughout the book, TV antiquity did not always share this same ‘coy attitude’ and many of the serial dramas made for television are distinctly not suitable for ‘family viewing’.
One of the key problems when analysing screen antiquity is finding the right terminology to describe such diverse works as I, Claudius, Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Spartacus: Blood and Sand (2010). With regard to cinema, scholars have similarly struggled to find coherent criteria for representations of antiquity ranging from Hollywood epics like Spartacus (1960) and arthouse productions like Pasolini's Medea (1969) to mass-market Italian musclemen films and comedies like A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966) and Carry on Cleo (1964). In addition, there are numerous overlaps with other genres, in particular with fantasy and action adventure, as evident in films such as Clash of the Titans (1981) or Percy Jackson & the Lightning Thief (2010).1 Other genre crossovers are also evident, particularly in television, such as gangster film, melodrama, comedy and soap opera. I will explore these in more detail in the relevant case studies and in the conclusion at the end of the book.
The most common terms used in the literature to characterise these works are peplum, sword-and-sandal films and cine-antiquity. The first of these is primarily used to describe a particular subset of films set in antiquity, namely the Italian-made musclemen films of the 1950s and 1960s. As Andrew B. R. Elliott (2011: 59) suggests, ‘a great deal of scholarship has rendered this term in and of itself problematic, [but] the most precise . . . definition . . . restrict[s] the use of peplum to the group of films depicting the ancient world made in Italy by Italian directors in the period 1958–65’. It is named after the peplum or peplos, a short skirt dress worn frequently by the male heroes that feature in the films that are set in ancient Greece. The term has subsequently been used more generically to characterise a wider range of films set in antiquity, but it is also often used dismissively. Therefore, it is unable to capture the full range of representations outlined above.
Second, sword-and-sandal films similarly take their cue from the costumes and props that feature in one way or another in pretty much all of the films and television programmes set in antiquity. As Kevin M. Flanagan (2011: 90) notes, unlike other genre specifications, the term does ‘not ascribe an abstract psychological term (horror), or suggest an experience delivered through a specific mode of performance (the musical), but instead provide[s] a group identity through the material accoutrements’. As such, it is wonderfully evocative. But, like the term ‘peplum’, it is often used negatively and rarely applied to more artistic films representing antiquity, for example Fellini Satyricon (1969) or Michael Cacoyannis's The Trojan Women (1971), even though both films feature swords as well as sandals. What is worse, the term distracts from the ‘emphasis on less generalizably recurrent elements [such as] mythological and historical source material . . . narratives that focus on heroism and moral righteousness; value ascribed to physical strength and sacrifice for one's people’, which, according to Flanagan (2011: 93), are the more interesting features of these films. Moreover, sword-and-sandal films are also more strongly linked to spectacular epic productions. This link has meant that other forms of representation of antiquity were often overlooked. For example, as Blanshard and Shahabudin (2011: 216) highlight, ‘responses to Gladiator's release showed that, in the popular cultural imagination, the ancient world on film (indeed, for many, the ancient world generally) had become the ancient world in epic film’. In contrast, the authors point out that when Gladiator was seen by many as ‘the re-animation of the “dead genre” of cine-antiquity’ many overlooked the fact that ‘cine-antiquity never did die, although it did stop appearing in the form of the epic film’ (2011: 216, my emphasis). By separating screen antiquity from the epic form and using the label cine-antiquity to discuss a much broader range of works, Blanshard and Shahabudin make it easier to extend the analysis of screen representations towards television. Hence, I will use the label ‘TV antiquity’ to characterise the diverse range of programmes presented in this book. The advantage of this term is that it also captures what Richards (2008: 9) called the ‘Ancient World genre’, which is defined quite broadly by ‘archaeological authenticity, emotional truth, visual power and a desire to educate as well as to entertain’. Overall, TV antiquity seems to be the most inclusive term, able to capture both ends of the spectrum of representations, from Shakespeare's Roman plays to Kevin Sorbo's Hercules who tells his opponents: ‘Relax, enjoy the ride’. As such, it continues a line of depictions of Greece and Rome in art and literature that has always blurred the boundaries between history and myth and between education and entertainment.
Screen antiquity between high and low culture
When looking at the artistic predecessors to cinema and television, Blanshard and Shahabudin (2011: 3) emphasise that ‘it was not just high art that was attracted to antiquity [as popular] nineteenth century circus acts and burlesques often invoked the ancient world’. This dichotomy between high- and low-culture representations of antiquity continues on-screen. From the outset, television more generally has been trying to find a balance between education and entertainment. In particular, the public broadcasting framework in European television early on put an emphasis on sophisticated programming that emphasised the educational aspects of the new medium. Adapting classical literature therefore had a special appeal for British and other European television stations, as the early case studies in this book will indicate. However, the success of peplum cinema in the 1950s and 1960s also showed that stories set in antiquity need not always appeal to high culture. Television shows like I, Claudius and The Last Days of Pompeii (1984) have attempted to be both sophisticated and entertaining by blending the content of popular historical novels with the conventions of soap operas. Series like Hercules: The Legendary Journeys further pushed TV antiquity towards the ‘low culture’ end with its iconoclastic approach to myth and its often gaudy production values. With regard to contemporary television, Michael Curtin (2003: 124) identifies two creative strategies, one that ‘focusses on mass cultural forms [that demand] low involvement and are relatively apolitical’ and one that creates ‘products targeted at niche audiences [which] pursue intensity [and] seek out audiences that are more likely to b...