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Described as The Sopranos with togas, the big-budget HBO/BBC co-production Rome premieres tomorrow night at 9 on The Movie Network/Movie Central as well as on HBO in America.
The brutally realistic, very adult story is set during the fall of the republic and the rise of the Roman empire, roughly between 52 and 44 B.C. It is largely told through the eyes of two rough-and-tumble Roman soldiers, centurion Lucius Vorenus, played by Kevin McKidd, and Titus Pullo, a cunning legionnaire portrayed by Ray Stevenson.
Basically, Rome is a buddy movie with these two soldiers at the core. McKidd called them the "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern" of the epic, not quite on the main stage with legendary characters like Julius Caesar (Ciaran Hinds) or Marc Anthony (James Purefoy) but fighting their way through history on the cusp of this story.
Writer/producer Robert Heller told critics last month in Los Angeles that recent historical findings have provided a "street level" look at what life was like in ancient Rome. This insight has helped make this Rome feel much more contemporary, in many ways, than the stilted toga epics of Hollywood past. There's none of that stagey, "Where's your Messiah now, see?" clumsiness to Rome. Out of their armour and into suits, Vorenus and Pullo could easily have worked for Tony Soprano. In fact, they'd probably be his two most trusted -- and feared -- lieutenants.
This Rome's most memorable character, however, is devious schemer Atia played with Dynasty-level histrionics by English actress Polly Walker. She's Rome's Joan Collins, chewing and screwing through the pilots bloodiest and most sexually explicit scenes.
At one point, she's completely doused with the blood of a bull gored and suspended over her head in a bizarre ritual the producers say actually took place in ancient Rome. Walker told critics it took days to wash the fake blood and goo out of her eyes, ears and nostrils. Gross!
Beyond the theatrics, there's no low to which Atia won't stoop to curry favour with whichever empire builder has the upper hand of the day. Lindsay Duncan also steals a few scenes as Caesar's lover, Servilia. Who made the salad?
The series is rich in details. No expense was spared in costuming, sets -- or time. The 12 episodes were shot over 14 months, an astonishingly long time for a TV series. One episode of a network drama usually takes a week -- not a month -- to shoot.
Then again, Rome wasn't built in a day.
Still, for all its attention to detail, the cast of thousands, the battle scenes, the kinky sex and slaying rituals, there's something missing at the heart of Rome. There's no Tony Soprano to hiss or root for, no flawed, charismatic hero who steps up and commands your full attention. Rome has plenty of splendid diversions, but it just doesn't seem to be that next big water cooler show that HBO was hoping for.
Then there's the toga flop ABC's Empire took this summer. That series stiffed in America and tanked so badly in Canada CTV yanked it off the air after two episodes. HBO's worst nightmare: Nobody cares about this sword-and-sandal stuff.
Rome is a far better series, a Gladiator-level epic crafted with care, attention to detail and imagination. Too bad no spark.