Caligula 1

Oh look: someone’s been watching HBO’s Spartacus and has decided to rip it off. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. There’s a long tradition of comics inspired by popular TV series and films, and some of the results have been as good or have exceeded the standards set by their source of inspiration. This is one of the better ones.

Caligula’s subject matter isn’t exactly subtle, but subtlety is probably not what you’re looking for if you’re picking up a comic about Rome’s most notorious emperor. You want sex? It’s here. Death and mutilation? It’s on virtually every page. Historical accuracy? Well, perhaps not, but it doesn’t really matter because the image that has built itself around the very name of Caligula is much more powerful than the hotly debated reality.

Taken as a work of fiction, it held my interest. Part of this attraction is, of course, puerile. It’s the equivalent of one of those newspaper articles that pretends to hold high moral ground about some scandalous piece of  gossip, while allowing itself to repeat the detail and in the process titillate the readership. It’s a voyeuristic pleasure.

The story that David Lapham presents is essentially a revenge fable. The narrator, Junius, discovers his family raped and murdered, and vows to take revenge on Caligula. Unfamiliar with the complexities of Roman city life, he’s shown to be both determined and naïve. Most of the issue is taken up with setting up background information, which leads to a dénouement that thwarts expectations as to where the storyline is heading next issue.

Considering the potential for sheer awfulness that the excesses of Caligula’s reign could have invited, Lapham opts for restraint. Acts of violence are seldom shown as they occur. They’re described, and we’re shown their aftermath, and imagination acts as the binding element. The writing’s literate, and mostly avoids mock archaisms.

This restrained quality is matched by Nobile’s art. It’s painted in muted colours, and there’s a pleasing stylised angularity to the figurework. At the same time, its detailing is quite crude in places, and there’s sometimes the feeling that the painted art disguises the cohesion of the overall page design.

The real drawback here is the way in which the comic has been presented. Told primarily in the form of monologue, and with little in the way of dialogue, this combines with the painted art to create the feeling at times that you’re reading a sexed-up version of a Classics Illustrated comic.

Even with these flaws, this is worth a look, and I’m hoping they can overcome some of the more glaring weaknesses in subsequent issues.