Explore the enduring legacy of ancient Rome in modern cinema through the lens of Ridley Scott's 'Gladiator II.' The conversation highlights how iconic films encapsulate themes of power, decadence, and authority. Discover the nuanced critiques of character development in Roman portrayals and the societal implications tied to these narratives. The lively discussion also addresses the manipulation of Rome's legacy by contemporary ideologies, raising important questions about identity and historical interpretation in today's world.
43:27
forum Ask episode
web_stories AI Snips
view_agenda Chapters
menu_book Books
auto_awesome Transcript
info_circle Episode notes
question_answer ANECDOTE
Naomi's Gladiator Experience
Naomi Fry had never seen Gladiator before watching Gladiator 2.
It took her three nights to watch Gladiator 1 because she kept falling asleep.
insights INSIGHT
Decadence in Gladiator 2
Gladiator 2 presents a Roman society in total cultural collapse, disguised as a pinnacle of culture.
The decadence and lack of a moral core are central themes, unlike the first Gladiator movie.
question_answer ANECDOTE
Naomi's Childhood Favorite
As a child, Naomi Fry avidly watched the 1976 miniseries I, Claudius.
The series portrays the life of Emperor Claudius amidst the colorful characters of ancient Rome.
Get the Snipd Podcast app to discover more snips from this episode
Written in 1934, 'I, Claudius' is a historical novel by Robert Graves that follows the life of Roman Emperor Claudius. The narrative is presented as Claudius' autobiography, detailing the history of the Julio-Claudian dynasty from Julius Caesar's assassination in 44 BC to Caligula's assassination in AD 41. The book includes the reigns of Augustus, Tiberius, and Caligula, and is known for its historical accuracy and fictionalized accounts drawn from Roman historians like Suetonius and Tacitus. Claudius, portrayed as a historian and scholar, documents the intrigues, betrayals, and violence within the imperial family, while also reflecting on his own survival and eventual rise to the throne.
The End of History and the Last Man
Francis Fukuyama
In this book, Francis Fukuyama posits that human history is moving towards a state of idealized harmony through the mechanisms of liberal democracy. He argues that liberal democracy is the final form of human government, driven by two powerful forces: the logic of modern science and the struggle for recognition. Fukuyama draws on the philosophical ideas of Hegel and Kojeve, suggesting that liberal democracy meets the economic and psychological needs of humanity, including the desire for recognition and dignity. The book explores the implications of this thesis, including the potential paradox that the satisfaction of basic needs might lead to a lack of outlets for human striving and recognition[2][3][5].
The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
Edward Gibbon
This magisterial history, written by Edward Gibbon, covers the peak of the Roman Empire, the history of early Christianity, the fall of the Western Roman Empire, and the rise and fall of various other empires and civilizations up to the fall of Byzantium in 1453. Gibbon's work is renowned for its thorough scholarship, diverse sources, and engaging prose. He argues that the Roman Empire succumbed to barbarian invasions partly due to the gradual loss of civic virtue among its citizens and critiques the role of Christianity in the empire's decline. The work was published in six volumes between 1776 and 1789 and has remained a seminal work in historical literature despite some criticisms from modern scholars[2][4][5].
The Odyssey
Homer
The Odyssey, attributed to Homer, is an ancient Greek epic poem that tells the story of Odysseus, king of Ithaca, and his ten-year journey home after the Trojan War. The poem explores Odysseus's encounters with various mythical creatures, divine interventions, and natural challenges. Upon his return to Ithaca, he must confront the suitors who have been vying for his wife Penelope's hand in marriage. With the help of his son Telemachus and the goddess Athena, Odysseus devises a plan to defeat the suitors and reclaim his throne. The poem is a reflection on human nature, loyalty, and the consequences of one's actions, and it remains a crucial component of ancient Greek literature and Western cultural heritage.
The Iliad
Homer
The Iliad is an epic poem attributed to Homer, set during the Trojan War. It begins in the ninth year of the war, where a quarrel between King Agamemnon and the warrior Achilles sets off a chain of events. The poem explores themes of heroism, honor, and fate as it describes the battles and interactions between Greek warriors like Achilles, Diomedes, and Odysseus, and Trojan warriors like Hector and Paris. The story is interspersed with divine interventions from Greek gods and goddesses, influencing the outcome of the war. The poem culminates with Achilles' reconciliation with Agamemnon and his subsequent rage against the Trojans, leading to the death of Hector and the eventual funeral rites for Patroclus and Hector[1][3][5].
Artists owe a great debt to ancient Rome. Over the years, it’s provided a backdrop for countless films and novels, each of which has put forward its own vision of the Empire and what it stood for. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss the latest entry in that canon, Ridley Scott’s “Gladiator II,” which has drawn massive audiences and made hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office. The hosts also consider other texts that use the same setting, from the religious epic “Ben-Hur” to Sondheim’s farcical sword-and-sandal parody, “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.” Recently, figures from across the political spectrum have leapt to lay claim to antiquity, even as new translations of Homer have underscored how little we really understand about these civilizations. “Make ancient Rome strange again. Take away the analogies,” Schwartz says. “Maybe that’s the appeal of the classics: to try to keep returning and understanding, even as we can’t help holding them up as a mirror.”
Critics at Large | The New Yorker 
