PicoBlog

I’ll admit that I was a bit of a late comer to HBO’s Rome. I’d heard about it while I was finishing my BA (in English, History, and Classics, thank you) but, because I didn’t have HBO, I never got around to actually seeing the thing. In fact, it wasn’t until I was finished with my BA and trying to figure out what to do with my life–spoiler alert, I went on to get a PhD in film, studying representations of antiquity in the movies–that I finally sat down and started watching this much-ballyhooed but prematurely canceled depiction of the fall of the Roman Republic and the rise of the Roman Empire. It was, in short, a revelation, a testament to how productive a collaboration between the BBC and HBO could be.

And, of course, there was Ray Stevensons’ Titus Pullo. From the moment that he appeared on-screen, he ensnared you with his charisma. Blunt and boorish and earthy, Pullo was a marked contrast to many of the other characters, including his comrade-in-arms Lucius Vorenus who, as portrayed by Kevin McKidd, is far stuffier than his compatriot. He was every inch the loyal soldier, someone who did what needed doing and got on with it. At the same time, there was also a warmth and generosity of spirit to Pullo that made him instantly likable, and it was easy to identify and sympathize with Pullo as he, along with Vorenus, found themselves caught up in the many conflicts that accompanied the downfall of the Republic, including Caesar’s assassination, the escalating conflict between Octavian and Antony and, of course, Octavian’s rise as the first Roman emperor. 

Through it all Pullo, like any good TV character, grows and changes, even as he also retains some key elements of his character. He is, to be sure, a boorish lout most of the time, a bit of a Robert Baratheon type, content to spend his time drinking and whoring, leaving domesticity and plotting to Vorenus and the higher-ups, respectively. At the same time, he has his own sense of honor, and he is loyal to a fault, particularly to his old mate Vorenus and, in his own strange way, to Caesar and Antony and Octavian. 

This isn’t to say that Stevenson’s Pullo isn’t capable of acts of great violence. Far from it. As he shows repeatedly, he’s able to kill with the best of them. As Megan O’Keefe puts it, “​​He goes from sweet to savage in a snap, like a wolfish puppy who charms you before chomping down on your throat.” This is what makes him so compelling and yet so repulsive, as he is both the best and the worst that Roman manliness has to offer. All of this is only possible because Stevenson gives his all to the role. There was a blunt physicality to Stevenson’s appearance that made him the perfect person to play the id-made-flesh that was Pullo. 

His achievement is all the more extraordinary when one considers how little he had to work with. Unlike some of the other major players in the series–James Purefoy’s Antony, Ciaran Hinds’ Caesar, even Polly Walker’s Atia–there is very little historical evidence about the real Pullo. In fact, we only know about this person at all thanks to Caesar himself, who mentions him (along with Vorenus) in his writings. Thanks to Stevenson, however, we now have a character who is as alive and memorable as any of the real historical personages with whom he shares the screen. In some ways, in fact, he’s more real than they are, as he is the ideal sort of everyman, someone who has more in common with the viewer sitting in the audience than he does with those higher up on the Roman social and political ladder. 

It’s thus all the more remarkable that, by the time that Rome ends, Titus Pullo is one of the few characters to emerge alive. However, he hasn’t emerged unscathed from the civil wars that have plagued Rome. He has lost Vorenus to the tide of history, as well as his beloved Eirene (and, in short order, Gaia, dead by his own hand). His life has been very much a tragedy, for while he’s been witness to and partaken in some of the great events of history, this has come at a terrible cost. Yet Pullo is also gets the last laugh. While the cunning and ruthless Octavian has commanded that Caesarion—putatively the child of Caesar and Cleopatra but really the product of a liaison between the Queen of Egypt and Pullo—be put to death, he remains alive. The future might belong to the newly-minuted Augustus, but it’s rather refreshing to see the humble soldier make at least a little space for himself in this brave and terrifying new world.

Every time I read about Titus Pullo, whether it’s in an account of the ancient world or in some other piece of historical fiction, it’s Ray Stevens’ face I see. It was thus with great sadness that I heard of Ray Stevenson’s death at the young age of 58. Though he has, of course, appeared in a number of other notable roles—including Volstagg in Thor and King James IV in The Spanish Princess—for me he will always remain Titus Pullo. Rest in peace, dear man. You deserve it.

ncG1vNJzZminnaO2t7vRqKysZqOqr7TAwJyiZ5ufonyxe8inZKmqkZ7ApnnOn2StoaSqwG681KWjqA%3D%3D