Tiberius chucks a wobbly

Right, I said earlier that I've started getting into 'I Claudius' as well.

So I suppose now might be as good a time as any to explain a little why it might have caught on with audiences and critics much more than 'The Cleopatras' ever did.

In all probability, I suspect viewers probably found the Romans far more sympathetic and three-dimensional than the expat Greeks.

Now, this is no reflection whatever on any of the actors who appeared in 'The Cleopatras'.  They are all, in their many and varied ways, every bit as talented and able as those in 'I Claudius'.  Quite probably, more than one actor from each camp ended up auditioning for the other series.  They're married, they've got kids to feed and the gas bill is due.

Okay, so the Romans are a right bunch of evil bastards who could probably give the Cleopatras and Ptolomies a bloody good run for their money.  Of course, otherwise we wouldn't be so interested in watching their antics over two thousand years later.

But they are also surprisingly human.

We can identify with them and their dilemmas far more than the Greeks.

Take Livia and Augustus, first of all.

Both have been married before and had children by the previous marriages - Augustus a daughter Julia and Livia sons Drusus and Tiberius.  Each is obviously biased in favour of their own kids, yet neither will cut their progeny the slightest bit of slack.  This means that the children often have to appeal to the step-parent in order to get a bit of sympathy and understanding whenever they end up in trouble.

Naturally the kids have picked up on all the rivalries and antagonisms of the older generation and use them to pick quarrels amongst themselves.

Whatever their precise blood relationship to the child, the parents are far more likely to support their position if the sprog is of the same gender as themself and experiencing specific gender-related problems that they also have personal experience of.   So Augustus will occasionally speak up on Tiberius' behalf when he's experiencing problems with Julia, while Livia will back up Julia against Tiberius and Augustus when necessary (Livia's version of 'necessary' is never quite the same as Julia's you'll note.  Nor her husband's).

As many, many viewers from the Seventies until today are or have been members of a 'blended' family (as sociologists will persist in calling this), they will probably sit there nodding vigorously (and maybe wincing too) at all these shenanigans taking place on screen.

Next we must consider the character of Livia herself.

As she so rightly points out, she is easily the equal of the greatest Cleopatra of them all - but she lives in Rome and has lasted much longer than Cleo managed.

Unlike all the other Cleos, Livia has found herself a husband who is pretty remarkable in his own right.  Because he (with some adroit, well-timed help from her) has managed to retain his grip on power and restore the country to some sort of semblance of peace and stability, Augustus remains alive and well.

However, Livia got the measure of her husband long ago - and came to the inevitable conclusion that sometimes he lets his sentiment get the better of his political and social judgement.  If she lets him get away with these wrong decisions, the results could be catastrophic, not only for the family but Rome itself.

So she has to run round behind his back clearing up the messes his excessively warm heart has created.

Many, many women in the audience must identify with this particular scenario, surely?

Then we come to Tiberius.

Like Demetrius in 'The Cleopatras', he has suffered the breakdown of his marriage.  Like Demetrius, he was forced to marry a woman he didn't love for political reasons.

However, Tiberius is pretty talented and prefers getting up off his bum and doing something useful, rather than lounging about on a throne all day displaying his false beard and moobs to all and sundry whilst being languidly fanned with bunches of peacock feathers.  He runs military campaigns against the Germans in the Black Forest when he's not helping Augustus dole out the Roman version of income support.

He also has an ex-wife that he still loves.  He loves her so much that he follows her about down the streets of Rome and visits her in her new home for all the marital benefits he refuses to obtain from Julia.

Unlike Demetrius, he has the balls to argue with his wives.  He rants and raves and yells at both Julia and Vipsania.

And they both tell him in no uncertain terms just what they think of him.

Vipsania says he's got a bloody sauce shouting at her when HE was the one who divorced HER, while Julia complains about his sexual coldness and even accuses him of being a secret pervert.

Once again, a substantial section of the audience will be undergoing the pain of a relationship that's gone seriously and irreparably wrong.  Many of them will still be attached to their ex-partners, for good, for ill or something in between.

Probably they can even identify with the subjects of the quarrels and unhappiness.  After all, personal incompatibility and sexual frustration haven't changed over the past two millennia.

So tell me - where, in all of this does Demetrius get a look in?

Nowhere.

And that's why we can't develop an interest in him.

Oh yes, we learn enough about him to feel sorry for his fate.

But not enough to make him our friend and our brother.

And that is the great lesson about scriptwriting to take on board.