Sunday, 14 April 2013

Spartacus Series Finale Review : The Thracian whose true name we’ll never know



When history tells us the protagonists of our story are doomed, will the adaptation accept or elide that reality? Steven DeKnight and the Spartacus creative team addressed the central question of their series finale—albeit obliquely—right in the title. No matter the outcome of the war, or the fates of individual warriors, “Victory” promised a decisive end.

Defining victory, though, left plenty of room for interpretation. The show’s “live free or die” ethos has long made it clear that death is not synonymous with losing, nor is mere survival an automatic win. By his own measure, the protagonist of this story did succeed. Because of the struggle he inspired, everyone who died on that battlefield, every refugee intercepted by Pompey, every lucky soul who traversed the mountain pass, was able to die a free man or woman.

“Victory” worked well not only as a rewarding finale to a remarkably rich series, but also as a cohesive episode of television. Spartacus inspired his people not with talk of blood vendettas or personal glory, but of freedom, an ideal both grand and simple.

It was summed up just as well in his long-awaited tête-à-tête with his Roman opposite number, a dialogue that skirted perilously close to “we’re not so different, you and I” territory, but kept from teetering all the way in thanks to Spartacus’s visceral rejection of the parallel. Crassus has always understood his opponent’s mind strategically, but he’s never been able to fully grasp the man ideologically.

On the battlefield, most of the main rebels met the gods in worthy, if grisly, fashion, usually managing to take out a couple more enemies even after suffering mortal wounds.
Naevia’s was the grimmest, drawn out after being hobbled in a way that recalled her climactic duel with Ashur last season. She was in conspicuous isolation when she expired, the absence of Crixus looming large.

Lugo’s last moments definitely earned a gold star in badassery, deep-sixing a couple of soldiers while burning to death so badly that he made Harvey Dent look like a Neutrogena model. You died as you lived, Lugo: pulverizing dudes with a big honkin’ hammer while cursing in a proto-Germanic tongue.

As for Gannicus himself, it makes perfect sense that he would find a reason to exult in even the most excruciating end. His death wish finished its evolution from one rooted in guilt to one with nobler purpose. His satisfaction could’ve found no better expression than the vision of Oenomaus’s approving look (and kudos on bringing back Peter Mensah, even if only as a momentary silent delusion), followed by the cheers which have rung in his ears so many times returning to commemorate a truly worthy achievement.

Whether or not an afterlife awaited Spartacus, to reunite him with his wife and restore his original identity, his certainty of this future belied a well-earned earthly contentment. Though only half the refugees made it to whatever fate lay beyond the Alps, they constituted thousands more lives than would've had the chance without Spartacus and his rebellion. The dire fates of some can spare others, like Laeta and Sybil, from worse.

This is as near to a happy ending as anyone could reasonably expect from a series whose various subtitles have included the words “blood,” “vengeance,” and “damned.” Even a bleak, fatalistic show can find a break in the clouds. And its hero can be laid to rest beneath a cairn paying proper homage, adorned with the red serpent shield. It may've been crafted for Agron, but its herald belonged strictly to the "Thracian whose true name we’ll never know"—a weapon forged of devotion to restore power to a man violently stripped of it, an instrument of death, an instrument of protection, capable of great and unfortunate things.

– Spartacus’s signature end-credits tapestry offered the perfect vehicle for a clip show/roll call of pretty much every character who's played a part in every incarnation of the series. I have no doubt that lump set upon many a throat when "Andy Whitfield" sprang forth as the only apropos final image.

Culled from TV.com


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