By M. Giant
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description! Finished? Click here to close.Caesar's in Egypt, getting his hands in the local business. And not just his hands. He meets up with Ptolemy XIII, a spoiled brat of a king. He's got his sister Cleopatra held prisoner somewhere to prevent her from disputing the throne, and civil war in Egypt appears imminent. Caesar sends Vorenus and Pullo to rescue the princess, who turns out to be a total crack whore. They accomplish their mission, and Cleopatra is restored to the throne with Caesar's backing. As history buffs know, Cleopatra later gives birth to Caesar's son, cementing their alliance. But she, Pullo, and Vorenus know whose son he really is. Ahem. Meanwhile, back in Rome, Mark Antony is in charge. He's not pleased to learn that Cicero has heard from Cato and Scipio, and is trying to get Brutus to rejoin their erstwhile allies. He reasserts his grip on Cicero's loyalty accordingly. And there's more girl-on-girl action with Servilia and Octavia. Tastefully photographed, of course. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Brutus is home. He stands in his mother's front hall and removes his red cloak, which he hands to a waiting servant. He turns, and there's Servilia, standing to a maid and looking at him unsmilingly. Finally, she steps forward and embraces him half-heartedly. He hugs her much more tightly, while her hands just sort of rest on his shoulders. Until she lifts them a little and lets them drop again, to signal, "Bored. We're done now." Brutus releases her, and she touches his face perfunctorily without looking at him before turning and walking away. Never said a word to him, but damn, that chick can act. On an unrelated note, the ceramic mask-shaped wall sconces with candles burning behind them look like the coolest fire hazard ever. Brutus stands there, like, "I don't know what that was about, but I know it wasn't good." I wonder if Brutus knows what went on between Caesar and Servilia while he was gone? Either way, it's worse than he thinks. Not only is his mother disappointed at his cowardice, she's also gone lesbo.
On the bright side, Brutus has made the news. The Town Crier is rattling off the names of the noblemen who have returned from Greece with Caesar's pardon and must not be harmed: "Publius Servilius Casca! Marcus Tullius Cicero! Gaius Cassius Longinus! And Marcus Junius Brutus!" If I were one of those guys, I'd want the news that I'm not to be harmed to be the top story. Funny how all of those names sound familiar, and not just the ones who've been on the show this whole time. The Crier gives an approving little nod with this last one. He wraps up the broadcast with a little "previously on Rome" bit: Pompey has fled to Egypt, and Caesar is in pursuit.
As are we. In the ancient Egyptian capital of Alexandria, ranks of Roman soldiers stand arrayed along the path into a giant compound, the heavy iron gates of which creak open ponderously. At the head of one of the ranks, Vorenus looks in the opposite direction with an expectant eyebrow-pop that threatens to launch his helmet into the Mediterranean. Caesar marches into the compound, flanked by Posca and a retinue of officers. Once he's past, the men shoulder their pikes and spread out along the outside wall. This is all shot from far away using a tight zoom in order to make the most of the heat distortion that's making the air look all wobbly. Or maybe it's just being filmed through a cookout. Pullo doffs his helmet and leans against the wall, looking miserable in the heat.
Inside the building, we get a good look at Caesar's desert campaign outfit. I think his breastplate is supposed to be gold, but it looks more orange on my screen. Combined with the buff-colored robe underneath it, he looks like a walking Fabergé egg. All the other Roman soldiers are dressed as usual. But the Egyptians surrounding them look quite different. I'm not even going to get into all the varieties of exotic dress, hair, and makeup on display in the throne room they've just entered. There's a good month's worth of fug in there. Priests are busy stoking smoldering braziers, kicking up a ridiculous amount of smoke and an equal amount of chanting. I guess there's no amount of heat and discomfort that can't be made more unbearable with a little effort. Caesar's party comes to a stop near the head of the room, where a bald guy stands there looking a lot like Arnold Vosloo in the recent Mummy movies. Except he's got a little ink-beard and the outline of a sleep mask drawn on his face in orange marker. A-ttractive. He makes a long-winded introduction of King Ptolemy XIII that ends, "Behold Ptolemy, Son of Ra. Ptolemy the Divine!" All of which is an elaborate setup before cutting to a pair of feet dangling above the floor, panning up to the occupant of a throne. He's bored, bewigged, a little chubby, and not more than eight years old. Nice Sharpie®-beard on him, too. "Greetings --" Caesar begins, but the chanters aren't done chanting yet. The Egyptians smirk at Caesar's little faux pas. They'll live to regret that. Caesar doesn't seem like a guy who cares to be smirked at by people who aren't Posca.
Once in the building and standing before Caesar, Pullo and Vorenus each unlace one end of the sack, which is laid out on the floor. From inside the bundle, Cleopatra dramatically flings the flaps aside and breathes in relief. "Princess Cleopatra, sir," Vorenus announces to Caesar as the third figure pulls down her mask to reveal herself as Poor Man's Linda Hunt. Vorenus formally continues his intro: "Daughter of the two rams. Mistress of sedge and bee." Seems to me like the mistress of sedge and bee could have been placed on a table to be unwrapped. All theatrical-like, Cleopatra sits up and starts brushing the dust off her arms, then turns to see Caesar and bats her eyelashes at him like she's swinging for the fences. She holds out one hand to Caesar, signaling him to approach. And here's the second time this episode I'm really impressed with Ciaran Hinds's acting, because he's able to pretend that he's utterly charmed by this ridiculous display. He steps forward and helps her up. She smiles at him. Looks like Vorenus isn't the only one who hasn't been getting any.
It's play time in the main throne room. Pteeny Ptiny Ptolemy is playing a game where he pokes and kicks a blindfolded Bald Guy. I'd commiserate with Bald Guy about how much his job sucks, but then I remember that I've been to staff meetings like that. The fun comes to an end when Cleopatra enters with an entourage of slaves and Romans (including Caesar, Vorenus, and Posca), wearing makeup, a much fancier dress, and an elaborate wig made of silk ropes or something. Alarmed, Pteeny Ptiny Ptolemy ptrots up to his throne and climbs onto it like it's home base in a game of ptag. Poor Bald Guy is left standing there with the blindfold still on, in a suddenly more crowded room. The doors slam shut with everyone inside. Bald Guy takes off the mask, and the first thing he sees is Cleopatra looking at him disdainfully. She blows right past him and Mop-Head without a word and goes right up to the king. We see that Poor Man's Linda Hunt is also in the house, wearing a wig of her own, whiteface, and two huge swatches of orange eyeliner that go all the way down past her cheekbones, making her face look like breakfast. "Is something wrong, little husband?" Cleopatra asks threateningly, and gives the cringing kid a kiss on one pudgy cheek. "How funny you look in Father's chair," she says. Pteeny Ptiny Ptolemy ptries to ptell her that he didn't want to hurt her. Cleopatra gives him the out, saying, "It was your gelding led you astray." Bald Guy takes exception as politely as he can, saying, "Mistress!" all injured-like. Cleopatra snaps, "It must not speak. It must die!" Bald Guy gets all nervous, even though nobody in the room is making a move to carry out Cleopatra's order. He starts gabbling and pointing the finger at Mop-Head, backing away from Cleopatra until he finds himself fetched up right against Caesar, who just looks back at him like something he scraped out of the inside of his breastplate.