Doctor Who: 73 Yards

 “Everyone has abandoned me my whole life…”

Let’s just pause to get the praise out of the way before we start: this is a bloody brilliant bit of telly. Now that’s out of the way… yeah, this is going to be a long one. Make yourself comfortable. 

So the Doctor and Ruby land in what’s instantly recognisable as the South Wales cost to we long-running Doctor Who fans. The Doctor briefly mentions a future prime minister from the area, Roger ap Gwilliam, but it’s nicely downplayed, a throwaway remark and not obvious as Chekhov’s gun at this point.

Ruby disturbs an odd little new age shrine thingy… and suddenly the Doctor vanishes, for this is a Doctor-lite story. And suddenly the direction, the cinematography, the texture of the footage itself, suddenly start to look like the best of co temporary horror. And the central conceit is utter genius: a ghostly old female figure always follows Ruby, staring exactly seventy-three yards away. Others can approach her, but not Ruby… and when others approach, they run. This is deeply creepy and possibly the best horror idea ever in Doctor Who, in terms of both idea and execution.

Of course, I’m sure I’m not the only one who thought of the Watcher in Logopolis…

Anyway, we soon meet a hiker lady, played by Susan Twist, who was the AI ambulance last episode but, in hindsight, has played an awful lot of bit parts recently. And Ruby notices, at this point, that her face is sort of familiar… yeah, definitely a Bad Wolf sort of situation. Who is she? And, while we’re at it, who is Mrs Flood, who briefly appears again? Susan was mentioned last episode- could either of them be her?

There follows a quietly brilliant scene in a local pub where Ruby, at a loss with what to do, meets with an unfriendly reception, being English. Yet there is fault on both sides. The pubgoers are certainly rude, unjustifiably so, but Ruby is also guilty of stereotyping although, perhaps, “racist” is a strong word. I love the prank they play on Ruby about the fairy circle thingy and “Mad Jack”, and all that stuff about the cliff top being a boundary between land and seas and a “liminal space”… the first time that concept has been mentioned in Doctor Who. Oh, and yeah, up until the joke is revealed it’s all bloody terrifying.

It gets worse, of course. Ruby goes home, Carla goes to talk to the figure, runs… and abandons Ruby, shockingly. We get a nice, reassuring cameo with Kate Lethbridge-Stewart… but the same happens with her… although not before, as the explains UNIT to Ruby, complete with its habit of employing ex-companions, as an organisation that deals with extra-terrestrial threats and now also the supernatural as “Things seem to be turning that way these days”. Hmm. Since the Doctor did that thing with the salt in Wild Blue Yonder, perhaps?

Ruby, though, is alone… and the years and decades go by, the figure always there and Ruby never finding happiness, being dumped by boyfriend after boyfriend. It’s an extraordinary direction for the story to go in, much though we sort of know at this point that there’s going to be some sort of reset button.

And so we have the clever resolution. The decades going by and the slightly off near-future feels very Years and Years. But Ruby manages to save the world from a nationalistic nuke -happy maniac by using the figure as a weapon to get Ap Gwilliam to give up. Don’t you think he looks tired?

And so Ruby lives out her sad lovely, life, a life dedicated to saving the world but at a terrible cost to her. No snow, no family, no excitement, no love. And then… the final reveal. The Doctor. And Ruby suddenly has a second chance at life.

I suspect, if you look too closely. There may be the odd little plot inconsistency. I don’t care. This is more than just brilliant. It’s beautiful. 

Good Omens: The Hitchhiker

 "We'd like to apologise for the wait and the conditions, but we won't. Cheer up. Things could be worse, and they will be."

There's plenty this episode to amuse, but... isn't this season sort of treading water at this point? The first two episodes were superb, but it's looking increasingly as though there just isn't tgat much going on, just the Gabriel plot thread really, and it's all being padded out with minisides.

This time the minisode, while not the best, is decent enough, by the League of Gentlemen gang and featuring wartime London, prestidigitation, Nazi zombies and a fantastic take on the bureaucracy of Hell. But... it's pretty much the main point of the episode.

Otherwise... well, Aziraphale picks up a hitchhiker who turns out to be Shax, she tells him she's worked out whrre Gabriel is, and she then proceeds to persuade Beelzebub to order her to lead a full-on demonic assault on the bookshop. That's literally it.

There's entertainment to be had, but arc-wise, this episode advances things not one iota. There's literally no reason for it to exist.

Clash of the Titans (1981)

 "Once he tried to ravish me disguised as a cuttlefish..."

This is Ray Harryhausen's last film. His career was, of course, long and magnificent, but the best bits were the three Sinbad films and this. Harryhausen the American stop motion genius- surely the greatest special effects maestro of all time, from a time before CGI- finished his career here, gracing us with his presence in this England until the end of his pleasingly long days. By all accounts he was a really nice bloke, a good thing to hear particularly of a genius.

He does his usual brilliant stuff in this film- the kraken, the owl, the vulture, Medusa and so on, as he always does. As usual, he gets his ezxecutrive producer credit to demonsrate that,unusually, the special effects guy is one of the stars. Ray Harryhausen was unique. I can't see us knowing his like again.

This is the tale of Perseus, from the myths, pretty much straight, or at least as straight as the practicalities of stop motion will allow. Harry Hamlin and Judi Bowker are competent and pretty, but the real acting chops lie elsewhere. We have Burgess Meredith, first and foremost, outshining everyone. But we also have the gods, capricious as the myths demand. And so we have Larry himself as Zeus, Jack Gwillim as Poseidon and a veritable pantheon of goddeses with Ursula Andress, Claire Bloom and the extraordinary Maggie Smith as Thetis.

The film is a refreshingly straightforward and highly straightforward retelling of the myth. It's a B movie, whatever its fame. It may be a tad slowy paced at times, but I challenge you not to love it.

Hammer House of Horror: The Carpathian Eagle

 “Are you going to be strict with me?”

This is an odd episode, not least because it's based on a purported Polish legend of a wronged countess who led men to her bed and had their hearts plucked out with an eagle. It feels more like a police procedural than a horror story... until the very kinky final scene.

Indeed, it's only at the end, with the detective being killed and the killer surviving to copy yet another female serial killer, that it becomes clear what a clever script this is. At first the police spculate the killer may be homosexual, and there's a sympathetic and very out LGBT character, certainly not typical in 1980. Yet the cleverness here is in reversing the gender roles of the sexualised violence- these creepy men perving on much younger and poorer women turn out, here at least, to be the victims.

Sian Phillips has a memorable role, if a surprisingly small one, and there's a small part for a very young Pierce Brosnan. But the star here is the script, a triumph and the finest so far.

Ewoks: The Battle for Endor (1985)

"Wicket Cindel's family now..."

I had to get this TV movie watched, seeing as I can't watch Caravan of Courage and not this. Fortunately, while it's a mid-budget TV movie for kids and should be judged as such, it's actually a fairly decent watch.

The beginning is well harrowing, though, as the baddies torch the village and kill loads of people including poor Cindel's entire family. Fortunately, the sheer trauma of such an event for poor Cindel is very much downplayed in favour of some child-friendly mourning of her parents.

And it’s straight into another very fairytale adventure, from another story by George Lucas, Cindel and Wicket escapee, courtesy of being ickle, and have an exciting little escapade with a rather cool little stop motion dragon. Then they meet a cheeky alien monkey muppet. And then they meet new father figure Noa, who inevitably turns out to be gruff but kind.

So off they go on a rescue mission to a castle with an acid moat. And much excitement ensues. With Sian Phillips as a witch type character- this is definitely fantasy, but so is all Star Wars. But the days of playing Livia In I Clavdivs must seem so long ago..

No, this isn’t as good as Caravan of Courage. But it’s still good stuff. Give it a go while it’s on Amazon Prime.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: Flushing Out the Mole

"Poor George. Life's such a puzzle to you, isn't it?"

Ah. You know how I’ve been saying that yes, Tinker Tailor is bloody good, the acting is superlative, the slow pace is excellent and the whole thing is superb but not quite in the very first rank? Well, I’ve changed my mind. Sometimes it’s the impact of a final episode that can fully drive home a multilayered and complex subtext, and this final episode is both extraordinary in itself and defines the entire series. I suspect also that there are all sorts of scriptural references I’m not getting.

Yes, this is the episode where the mole is unmasked,  and the first ten or so minutes are a suspenseful whodunit, but that’s over quickly. Gerald is caught, he’s Bill Haydon, and suddenly the world is entirely different. The whole senior echelon of the Circus are summoned to hear the tapes of Haydon speaking to his handler, and you can see from the previously supercilious Percy Alleline that he’s utterly defeated. The tables have turned, and the outcast Smiley suddenly commands the room, a situation that lasts for most of the episode. Toby in particular is suddenly very, very oleaginous.

We see where Jim Prideaux has gone- he’s watching as Bill is taken to a camp and, quite obviously, roughed up. Everyone is shocked that good old Bull, outgoing, patriotic, the “laughing cavalier” should be a traitor. But Ian Richardson is extraordinary in explaining his motives to Smiley- they all started at the Circus when they were “golden with hope”, and Bill gradually came to hate America for its callousness towards its own poor, presumably meaning its cruelly inadequate welfare system and its lack of a decent health system- but was the Soviet Union any better? America may never have had an NHS, but neither did the USSR. Bill, though, with the cynicism of the defeated idealist, comes to see, as early as the Forties, that Britain is a fading, irrelevant power. None of this explains his motives satisfactory but that, in itself, makes him seem real.

Even his affair with Ann was directed by Karla- he was to “join the queue” to make any suspicion from Smiley feel like a personal thing. And yes, he shafted his old partner Jim. He is a traitor in every way. But he’s an unsavoury character in other ways- he tries to pay off not only a girlfriend but a “boy” who is “a cherub but no angel”. I assume we’re not talking over sixteen here. Brr. This was hardly approved of in 1979 but there was perhaps more of a tolerance for a kind of public school pederasty that makes the flesh creep.

Fittingly, Bill is killed by Jim amongst lax security, the traitor meeting a fate far more merciful that the traditional one at Tyburn but denied a melancholy, vodka-soaked exile. And Smiley is left master of all he surveys, his words conveying absolute authority as he explains he’s been “asked to look after things for a while.” But this is nicely undercut when we meet Ann, played by the splendid Sian Phillips, who is openly having relationships and living free and apart, treating George as an innocent friend to be patronised. And that’s Smiley; man of the world and yet not so, a fascinating character, one very much worthy of the great Alec Guinness.

I, Clavdivs: Old King Log

"The man who dwells by the pool shall open Graves..."

The first episode, which seems so long ago, featured an interesting bit of breakage to the fourth wall early on as, while Augustus, Marcus Agrippa and co reclined and chatted, a couple of minor characters discussed how the old days never truly existed, that the past is an illusion. That was a clear acknowledgement by Jack Pulman that we rely on sources but we can never arrive at real historical truth, and certainly not via Suetonius.

And so it’s appropriate that, in this final episode, realism breaks down somewhat and the fourth wall is constantly pointed at- and not only in the above quote from Claudius’ farewell speech to the Senate, where he refers to Jack Pulman and Robert Graves. No; in this final episode Claudius has become convinced that he erred in ruling wisely; he reconciled Rome to monarchy instead of discrediting it. So Old King Log resolves to “let all the poisons that lurk in the mud gat h it”, leaning into the Sibylline Prophecy. So he marries his niece and favours Nero as heir over his own son Britannicus. In doing so he raises himself from a mere principal character almost to the status of author, truly Claudius the God. This is often humorous, as when he exasperates Agripinilla by anticipating her every wish without hiding his contempt. (How come such a noble couple as Germanicus and Aggripina spawned such a nest of monsters?). He exerts control over his own death. Yet the ferryman waits for us all in the end.

There is one thing Claudius can not control- his honourable yet naive son, Britannicus, who refuses to  go along with Claudius’ secret plan because “no one believes in the Republic any more”. Instead he chooses to put on his manly gown and face death. Claudius is not omnipotent, after all.

So Claudius gets his big death scene, and a chat with the Sibyll. We get the cameos we’ve longed for from the characters we missed. We get to know the loathsome Agripinilla and Nero (interesting casting!) who, as we won’t be following their exploits after Claudius, can be portrayed with relish, with Nero noting “What a pretty thing a fire is”. No subtext there...

A fitting end to a drama that is justly seen as one of the finest ever. Who cares about the obvious staginess. This is superlative telly.

I Clavdivs: Queen of Heaven

“He’s building a prison here, stone by stone.”

Damn all this current telly and it’s distracting me from the antics of those naughty Julio-Claudians. Now where were we?

Cleverness, that’s where. This episode is really all about plot, plot, plot but it does so with wit and gusto. The opening scene has to tell us that Tiberius’ reign has now reached its later point of extreme decadence and tyranny, but it does so by showing the hostess of an enjoyable dinner party, attended by characters we know such as Agrippina and Claudius himself and has the gracious hostess (Judith Caroon from The Quatermass Experiment) dramatically reveals the circumstances of her rape by Tiberius- and then stab herself. BBC2 In 1976 cannot show these depravities so it must simply tell- but it does so dramatically, and gives us some spectacle anyway.

It also develops how Sejanus is slowly assuming power from Tiberius, encouraging him with his treason trials for such things as “treasonous utterances” and already ruling Rome as a kind of proto-totalitarian state. And he is deeply ambitious- in a hilarious scene Claudius slowly walks across a room while Sejanus gradually gets him to divorce his estranged wife and agree to marry his own sister. He is also having an affair with Livia which, it is implied, consisted of some rather rough sex, and the two of them contrive to bump off Castor, who happens to be Tiberius’ son and likely successor. All this is done with humour and style, and in no way feels like exposition.

We also meet Caligula, or Suetonius’ version at any rate, played with absolute sublimity by the great John Hurt. Already utterly depraved, he bonds with Tiberius over porn and ends up as the likely next emperor simply because Tiberius wants his successor to be worse out of sheer vanity.

But the episode is about the death of Livia, aware of her many crimes and desperate for deification to save her from eternal torment, with another extraordinary performance from the great Sian Phillips. Interestingly, a lot of the meat of the episode revolves around Thrasyllus’ horoscopes, with a lot of very intelligent people believing in this woo woo. But, in an age before our present conception of science, astrology was not necessarily a stupid way to try and understand the world. Interestingly, though, the Sybilline prophecy, and that of Thrassylus, are shown to be true. Caligula and Claudius will indeed be the next to rule, and one who is going to die soon will indeed become the only God worshipped in the Roman Empire one day.

Bloody superlative stuff.

I, Clavdivs: Some Justice

"That child is a monster!"

This episode takes what is perhaps an unexpected turn as a courtroom drama unfolds. This courtroom drama has wider implications, though, and acts as an ingenious frame around which to explore Tiberius' early rule- he is bitter, resentful but not yet depraved or tyrannical in spite of the baleful presence of Sejanus. However, the elderly Claudius' narration at the beginning (a rare bit of narrative clumsiness) makes clear that this is to change after Germanicus' death.

And the death of the dutiful, popular, republican Germanicus shapes everything here, from the raging desire for revenge of his widow Aggripina on the parts of Piso and Plancina who, as we shall see, are guilty of persecution but not murder, and were acting on Tiberius' orders in any case. Unknown to all, the real killer is the infant Caligula, who horribly terrorised and murdered his father by poisoning and a superstition which the genuinely clever and civilised Romans simply accept, to the incredulity of Herod, speaking for our own culturally Judaeo-Christian worldview. Nevertheless, Aggripina want revenge and the crowd id with her, and it becomes slowly clear that the appearance of justice is only a figleaf for what is politically convenient. Piso must die to save Tiberius, and he becomes increasingly doomed as the episode progresses. Deliciously, Plancina manages to do a deal with Livia, still at the centre of the web, to save herself and her children, and ends up "assisting" her father's suicide. This is delightfully, entertaining cynical. And we Doctor Who fans get the added thrill of Lady Peinforte wanting Monarch dead.

We also see how, thankfully, Claudius now has friends in Aggripina, Castor, Herod and others and, while hardly a confidant of the Emperor, has a degree of respect. Antonia, of course, despises him as much as ever, wishing he had died instead of Germanicus. So does Livia, who is increasingly exasperating her son with her antics and whose scene with fellow poisoner Martina (Nursie from Black Adder II) is a hoot.

This episode essentially sets the scene for the new reign, then. Hugely enjoyable though it is, it hints at much depravity to come. Utterly superb, as though that needed saying.

I, Clavdivs: Poison Is Queen

"Don't touch the figs..."

Well, even by the high standards of this rightly praised drama, that was exceptional. And this, more than anything, proves that the great Brian Blessed was an actor of incredible depth and subtlety, if not necessarily softly spoken while doing so, and it's such a great shame that he very shortly after became typecast as shouty barbarians.

So Germanicus returns to a warm and brotherly reunion with an unhappily married Claudius, and at last hears and believes the news about Postumus' framing for rape and Livia's misdeeds- although, I'm glad to see, not without a very #MeToo nod to the fact that actual rapists use such excuses all the time.

In the very next scene Augustus clearly knows everything, and is very cagey about Livia. Rightly so; his eyes may now be open, but will soon be closed forever. His secret reunion with Postumus is deeply emotional for both men, yes, although Augustus' tears are self-indulgent as ever, but they must tread with care and it is, in truth, far too late. Livia is running rings round them throughout, whether secretly getting access to Augustus' altered will, ensuring the despairing Tiberius is not far away, or finally managing to poison the rightfully paranoid Augustus to death. Too late. poison is queen, and Postumus is doomed, although in the process we meet the ruthless Sejanus, played with icy steel by a young and only very slightly balding Patrick Stewart. It's all moving towards an inevitable conclusion, but you can't take your eyes off it even if the whole thing looks absurdly studio-bound at times.

But Livia, blinded by her cruel dismissal of Claudius. never suspects his part in revealing the truth, and she constantly humiliates him throughout, culminating in that final scene where a somewhat pissed Livia, having achieved what she wanted, mocks Claudius while telling him too much. Sian Phillips is one of the great villains of television history. And what an episode.What writing. What acting. 

I Clavdivs: What Shall We Do About Claudius?

“Are you sure this girl will marry him?”

“What’s it to do with her?”

In a sense, I suppose, you could say that this episode’s plot is largely a continuation of previous episodes in that Livia is still scheming to get rid of all rivals to her sullen son Tiberius so he can succeed Augustus- in this case Postumus, played here by a frighteningly young version of the baddie from RoboCop 3.

But it’s not about the mere plot, of course, entertaining though the scheming may be. No; it’s about the people, the acting, the clever scripting. It’s about the way Livia traps the charmingly thick Livilla (a young Patricia Quinn just after Rocky Horror) into betraying her lover Postumus, running rings around her. It’s about how Postumus blurts out Livia’s entire catalogue of murders to Augustus just before his exile to a tiny island, to the Emperor’s scorn- but manages to reveal all to Claudius first. This smells very much of foreshadowing.

It’s just as much about little moments, too. Augustus appreciating Horace but disparaging Ovid for “smut”. Augustus shouting “Quinctilius Varus, where are my eagles?” as three legions are massacred in the Teutoberg Forest; it’s 9AD, and Augustus is an old man with a lot on his shoulders. Livia’s hilariously psychopath is speech to the gladiators- “These games are being degraded by the use of professional tricks to stay alive, and I won’t have it!”, along with the entire imperial family being perfectly fine with the gruesome spectacle, in scenes more obviously set in a small studio than most. At the Games, we are so very obviously looking at a theatre set with a camera pointed at it, but we are far too engrossed to mind.

But the main purpose is to introduce the young adult Claudius, with Derek Jacobi appearing for the first time without prosthetics in an extraordinary performance. Humiliated, belittled, despiser by his own mother and an embarrassment to all, he causes laughter at his wedding to a woman who dwarfs him . But he is an intelligent and principled young man, as devoted to the republic as his father. And the historian Pollio encourages him to play up his infirmities in order to outlive those who threaten him. It’s an artfully constructed episode, building up Claudius within the flashback narrative alongside plenty of wit and black humour, while moving Livia’s plotting to a point where next episode has to give us some kind of climax.

I Clavdivs: Waiting in the Wings

“IS THERE ANYONE IN ROME WHO HAS NOT SLEPT WITH MY DAUGHTER???!!!”

Sometimes it’s hard finding a quote. Today is not one of those times.

We ended last episode with Tiberius in exile for violence against his wife, Julia, Augustus’ daughter, while Caesar’s grandchildren Gaius and Lucius were being groomed for power. Well, Gaius has already had a “sudden and unexplained death”; I’m sure Livia was shocked. Now, as she spends the episode plotting to have Tiberius recalled, I’m sure she’s anxious for poor Lucius. It would be a shame if anything were to... happen to him. All very similar in shape to last episode, then, except that Claudius is now a limping, stuttering child thought a fool by everyone. Like Tristram Shandy, it’s taken a while but he’s got past his own birth in his autobiography.

Last episode I failed to note a few actor spotting moments, not the least of which was Granny Pig from Peppa Pig (a key cultural touchstone to we parents if young children) discoursing on anal sex. Well, Julia is now, having been told last episode to lay off a bit, shagging around with wild abandon and her terrible downfall and exile is, I suppose, the central plot line of the episode, giving us a chance to see some splendid plotting by Livia and leaving Julia both sweating revenge against Livia and with a fairly clear idea of what’s been happening. It’s all very clever plotting at the same time as giving some superb actors a chance to have some real fun with some delightfully scheming characters. Sian Phillips is deliciously evil here, with loads more to come. But BRIAN BLESSED, beneath the SHOUTING, give a wonderfully subtle performance of avuncular bonhomie which can switch to menacing in an instant. Livia may manage to manipulate him on family issues, but this is a believable, power-hungry Augustus, albeit one who has long grown used to power and is now saddened by the tragedies that seem so inexplicably to befall his blood descendants.

In the middle of the episode is an odd omen that seems to predict Claudius’s rise, followed by some wonderful dialogue between Livilla and Antonia as she wishes herself dead before Claudius should ever come to power and is promptly send to bed without any supper, an appropriate prefiguring of Livilla’s own manner of death.

There’s also a lot of witty commentary in the dialogue on Rome and its ways- Julia and Antonia bemoan the unreliability is slaves these days, while Augustus forces his knights to get themselves married- “And don’t try to get round it by getting engaged to nine year old girls. I know that dodge”. But all this is overshadowed by Julia’s exposure, and by THAT scene. It may be a famous shouty Brian Blessed scene. It’s also an extraordinary piece of acting. Although personally I also love Kevin Stoney as fraudulent astrologer (but I repeat myself) Thrasyllus as Tiberius shares with him a dramatic reversal of fortune and is unexpectedly recalled to Rome. Their fit of laughter as they hear of Lucius’ seemingly natural deaths is utterly wonderful.

But now stage young Postumus is joint heir with Tiberius. And he’s intelligent to know this probably isn’t good for his life expectancy. So ends another magnificent episode, but I suspect I’ll be ending all the rest of these blog posts with similar sentiments.

I, Clavdivs: A Touch of Murder

"It never was what it was..."

It's 20th September 1976. I am as yet a very small collection of cells in my mother's womb, a bizarre thought, and on BBC One there begins the first feature length episode of I, Clavdivs, the BBC's new prestige drama adapting Robert Graves' novels I Claudius and Claudius the God, both of which I recommend heartily, or at any rate at least those parts of the novels that don't require any location filming.

Because that's the thing; there are no locations, no handheld camerawork. Instead there are small sets where you can tell the sets dressing extends no further than is visible on screen. It's theatre with a camera pointed at it, with only lip service made to realism. It relies only vaguely on spectacle; it's entirely about the acting and the script. And, my God, it's magnificent. I would never want them to take away today's location filming and handheld cameras, but we shall never again see the likes of I, Clavdivs.

We begin, after a title sequence that I'd quite forgotten would later inspire the titles of Black Adder II, in the present day in, I think, the 50s AD, with that young Derek Jacobi aged up as the elderly Emperor Claudius as he prepares a framing device, Greek chorus to his own autobiography with the added Greek touch of a riddle from the Sibyl. Then we are in flashback, the seventh anniversary of Mark Antony's defeat at Actium so 24BC, where there is dancing with boobies and our dramatis personae- the splendid Brian Blessed as Augustus in a large yet subtle and nuanced performance that is the highlight of his career, and rivals Herod Agrippa, the old warhorse, and young favourite Marcellus. We also have Augustus's sister Octavia mother to Marcellus, and his wife (and Caesar's only child) Julia- keep up at the back. And at the centre of the web we have Livia.

So we're all set for a long game of- well, definitely not thrones, that's for sure, because Rome doesn't do kings. Oh no. Definitely not. Because Augustus can't wait to lay down his temporary burdens and the republic will be back again like it was in the recent past, right? But before this we get an extraordinary fourth wall-breaking moment as a Greek orator and an actor playing an actor have their faces foregrounded over the main characters and lament how the theatre is not what it was, and never was  in th first place. We are deliberately reminded of the artificiality of all this, that Suetonius may well have been writing out of his arse, and even (by Augustus) that history is not being told as it was but with poetic licence. All this is quite wonderful.

We see the early power games between Agrippa and Marcellus, until first the latter and then the former are fatally poisoned by Livia, whose choice of words is exquisite as she "helps" her sick victims, in order to maneouvre her glum and awkward son Tiberius to the top spot. We see the contrast between Tiberius' weakness and deep depression versus his heroic and cheery brother Drusus, who hopes for a republic but, alas, has a mother who hates him and happens to be Livia.

Augustus is the consummate psychopathic politician, a mafia don, whose every act is politically calculated and whose calculated bonhomie covers a terrifying ruthlessness. And Rome is a goldfish bowl where marriages, divorces, sex and happiness are but political tools. Power pervades every action. Tiberius' self-loathing is quite understandable.

We end with Drusus' suspicious death, with deeper darkness engulfing both Tiberius and the widowed Antonia, a crying baby, and Claudius in the present day with his food taster, suspicious that his wife and stepson are trying to kill him, because such is Rome. It's a richly written, superbly acted bit of telly history and I don't care about the very 1976 hair of young Gaius and Lucius, Livia's next victims. I'm loving this already.

Dune (1984)

"He who controls the spice controls the universe."

Wow. That... was weird.

This is, I’m told, David Lynch’s least loved film. It certainly isn’t well regarded by fans of Frank Herbert, whose work, alas, I have not read. But it’s still cool, flawed though the film is, how David Lynch handles a sci-fi epic which, like Star Wars, has fantasy tropes underneath. I'm glad he got to make one, and that something akin to a David Lynch Star Wars exists. The world would be a worse place otherwise.

It's oddly paced and awkward, of course, Lynch is on record as saying that studio interference moved the film away from his vision, and I'm told that the extended TV version  is even worse. But I find this to be far from a bad film, flawed though it admittedly is. And how can you hate a film that has music by Brian Eno and, er, Toto, together at last?

The cast is superb, with Sian "Livia" Phillips as a kind of futuristic Pythia type, glorious performances by the likes of Paul L. Smith and Patrick Stewart that never tip over to parody but portray their characters with appropriate gusto. The design is superb; two years after Blade Runner establishes that future fashion can be cyclical we have a 110th century aristocracy which dresses like that of the 19th, something which works well and gives us an excellent shorthand for the kind of society this is.

The film doesn't only look good, either (well, some special effects may not have aged well); it's beautifully and druggily shot, as is Lynch's wont,  and there are glimpses of what Lynch intended in moments of excellent, if weird, storytelling.As things stand this is a curiosity rather than a masterpiece, but I'm left fervently hoping for a director's cut.