The Sexual Politics of "Domina"
The new series, streaming now on Epix, depicts an ancient Rome in which women wield power behind the scenes.
For those of us who love seeing the ancient world brought to life on-screen, the early-to-mid 2000s was something of a golden age. The enormous success of Ridley Scott’s Gladiator encouraged the other studios to release a number of similarly-themed blockbuster epics, including Troy (2004), Alexander (2004), 300 (2007), and other, less high-profile (and less profitable) adventures. It was thrilling and fascinating to see epic heroes such as Maximus, Alexander the Great, and King Leonidas striding across the screen of history, even as it was hard to see past the hysterical hyper-masculinity that these films also espoused in their (re)presentation of antiquity.
Meanwhile, the small screen saw its own mini-flowering, with two relatively high-profile series debuting on HBO and Starz. HBO’s Rome, which ran from 2005 to 2007, was very much a prestige production, focusing on the downfall of the Republic amidst civil war. Starz’s Spartacus, on the other hand, was very much a pulpy peplum, with lots of slow-motion gore and sex, though it did have some surprisingly sophisticated things to say about the nature of power, desire, and revolutionary social change.
After Spartacus finished its run in 2013, there really didn’t seem to be that much interest in seeing the ancient world populate the small screen. Thus, there was some understandable excitement when it was announced that Sky Atlantic would be producing a television series focusing on the life and rise to power of Livia Drusilla, famous for being the wife of Rome’s first emperor, Augustus, and for her part in Robert Graves’ novel I, Claudius and its BBC adaptation (in which she was portrayed by the great actress Siân Phillips). In the US, the series was broadcast on Epix, a network that has in recent years started to produce television series with ancient history as their subject (they have been responsible for the distribution of the series Britannia, about the Roman conquest of Britain).
Throughout its first season, Domina remains laser-focused on the powerful issues of family and domestic politics. As the series begins, Livia becomes embroiled in the collapse of the Republic in civil war, for her father is a proud Republican and supporter of Brutus and Cassius and the other assassins of Julius Caesar. Though he takes his own life at the Battle of Philippi, his daughter promises his shade that she will not rest until she sees the Republic restored. To do so, however, she binds herself to Gaius, the man who will become Rome’s first emperor. As the season unfolds, she repeatedly works with her husband--who she truly seems to love--to make sure that he ascends to the position of a god. In the series’ (somewhat tortured) logic, she believes that if she can transform him into an all-powerful figure and ensure that that power is transferred to her son Drusus, she can manipulate him into handing the power back to the Senate and people.
In this sense, Domina partakes of the tradition, prominently on display in Gladiator, that there were always those who yearned for a return to the glorious days of the Republic. Whereas Gaius seems to only want power for its own sake--and to mold the Roman state into his own image--Livia is strangely altruistic, though it remains somewhat unclear to what extent her desire to return Rome to a Republic is based on her love for her father or out of a genuine belief in the principles of republican (as opposed to autocratic) governance.
Despite its gestures toward the grand political stage of history, however, Domina, remains much more focused on the internal dynamics of the nascent Julio-Claudian dynasty, particularly the increasing schism between, on the one side, Gaius’ sister Octavia, her best friend Scribonia (Gaius ex-wife and the mother of their daughter, Julia), her son Marcellus (who marries Julia), and her various other daughters and, on the other, Livia, Gaius’ best friend and loyal lieutenant Agrippa (who becomes one of Livia’s most steadfast allies), Livia’s sons Tiberius and Drusus, and her best friend Antigone (who was once a slave but is now a freedwoman). Of all of the players, it’s Livia who has the greatest political acumen, and she is also the most ruthless in the pursuit of her ambitions. She is deeply scarred by the events of her youth, in which her dissipated and politically inept husband managed to choose the exact wrong course of action, and this leads her to commit all sorts of atrocities in order to make sure that her two sons stay safe. This includes conspiring with Antigone to poison Marcellus, once it becomes clear that, if he should inherit Gaius’ position upon his death--something that Gaius, obsessed with bloodlines and family, has assured the young man will happen--he will see Livia banished and her sons assassinated.
For Livia, family matters more than anything else, but time and again it becomes clear that it’s her father that matters more than the present generation. In fact, she comes perilously close to having Tiberius killed once he proclaims that he’ll have no part in her schemes to bring about a restoration of the Republic. For Livia, her father remains the perfect man, the Republican (and masculine) ideal against which she measures everyone else (it certainly helps that he’s played by Liam Cunningham, famous for playing the stalwart and pragmatic Davos Seaworth in Game of Thrones). Livia, more than any of the other female characters, recognizes the way that power works in Rome, and when she can’t get what she wants through Gaius, she does so through Antigone and her knowledge of poisons.
While Livia is obviously the series’ most important character, it also takes time to flesh out the character of Julia, Gaius’ daughter and a pawn in his dynastic and political schemes. He forces her to marry her first cousin Marcellus, a marriage that is deeply unhappy and dysfunctional, and she finds comfort in the eyes (and arms) of young Iullus, the son of the deceased and disgraced Mark Antony and his wife, Fulvia. In some ways, there’s is the most tragic part of the saga, for there’s no possibility that their love can ever be fulfilled and, as canny viewers will know, their saga will end in tragedy and death.
And, of course, there are the other members of the younger generation, all of whom have their own sexual foibles to contend with. Marcellus would rather spend his sexual hours with his slave, while Tiberius has some complicated sexual feelings regarding his mother that he’s clearly going to have to work through as he continues his own ascent into his stepfather’s good graces. Though it doesn’t go quite as far as either Rome or Spartacus in terms of the sexual dysfunction of its imperial family, there’s still the suggestion that deviant sexuality within the domestic realm can have serious consequences for the running of the state.
As deft as it is in portraying the fraught domestic dynamics of Rome’s first family, Domina struggles a bit when it comes to the larger political ramifications of these actions. In part, this stems from its refusal to acknowledge the enormous changes that Augustus implemented, particularly surrounding the family and the role of women. To some degree, this is understandable, since it’s notoriously difficult to convey to viewers the complexities of legislation. However, given that so many of Augustus’ reforms had to do with the family and with reproduction, it is a bit curious that they are largely elided from the narrative, and one can’t help but wish that, rather than utilizing a time jump very early in the season, they might have slowed down a bit to give us this much-needed context.
Currently, there’s been no announcements as to whether this series will get a second season, and that is a shame. There’s no question that Domina makes for compelling drama, and though it might be a bit more staid than either of its premium cable predecessors, it still has something to say about the nature of power in the Roman world, about the role of women in history, and about the byzantine interweavings between family and the state. However, I can’t help but feel that the first season was a bit of a setup for what might take place in later seasons, as the fault lines between the Julians and the Claudians, always the key fissure in the dynasty, begin to open up, between Julia and Tiberius, between Tiberius and Agrippina the Elder, between Julia’s male children and Livia’s descendants as they all vie to be Augustus’ heir. And, of course, there’s still the outstanding question of just how far Livia will go in her attempt to restore the Republic and whether she’ll become the same scheming spiderwoman of I, Claudius. If the powers that be are gracious and grant the show a second season (or more), I know that I will be very excited to see how it continues to explore and represent the contradictory and often circumscribed lives of even the most powerful women of antiquity.