Difficult to choose a scene out of so many. 13 hours of Claudius.
One scene that does stay with me - for some of the wrong reasons, actually -
is a scene with John Hurt, who played Caligula.
A scene where Caligula has become a god
and he calls Claudius to come and see him.
Claudius doesn't know why he's there,
but Caligula wants him to divine that he has become godlike,
which Claudius cleverly, and very surprisingly, does by the end of the scene.
It's a scene that we could never get through without laughing in rehearsal and in playing.
I'm sure if I were to watch it now, I'd laugh again,
but it was lovely to work with John in that scene.
It also shows, I think, the style of the piece.
The combination of the comic and the serious
and the way Herbie Wise set his cameras to such advantage.
H-Hail, Caesar.
What a joy to see you alive!
And to hear your voice again.
D-d-dare I hope that you're b-better?
I've never really been ill.
Oh. Really?
No. I've been undergoing a metamorphosis.
Oh.
Was it p-painful?
It was like a birth... in which the mother delivers herself.
Oh, yes. Oh, that m-must have been p-painful.
May I inquire what is the...
character of this g-glorious change, which has come over you?
Isn't it obvious?
You've b-become a god!
Oh, my god.
Oh, let me worship you!
Oh, how could I have been so blind?!
I am still in mortal disguise. That wouldn't help.
I should have seen it at once. Your face shines, even in this light, like a lamp.
Does it?
Get up and give me that mirror.
Oh, it is bright, isn't it?
I could r-read by it.
I always knew that this would happen. I always knew that I was divine.
Think. When I was two, I put down a mutiny in my father's army and so saved Rome.
- That was prodigious. - Like the stories they tell of Mercury.
Or Hercules who strangled snakes in his cradle.
Exactly. Only Mercury only stole a few oxen.
Whereas by the age of ten, I'd already killed my father.
- You didn't know that, did you? - N-no.
Divinity...
Even Jove didn't do that. He merely banished the old man.
Why, if you don't mind my asking, d-did you do that?
Well, he stood in my way.
Me, a young god! He tried to discipline me. So I frightened him to death in Antioch.
So it was you who did all that? Quite incredible.
No, not at all. For a god, it was very simple.
Not only did I kill my natural father, I also killed my adopted father, Tiberius.
- And Jove never did that. - No. I've never read that he did that.
You see. And you're a very well-read man.
And Jove only slept with one of his sisters, I've slept with all three of mine.
All three have had a god into their beds. Martina said it was the right thing for a god.
Oh, you knew Martina well?
Oh, yes, very well. A very wise woman.
In Egypt, she taught me the whole history of the gods, especially the Greek ones.
She said that I was more like Zeus than Jove. Jove was just a pale Roman copy of Zeus.
Zeus married his sister, didn't he?
- Yes. - What was her name?
- Hera. - Hera. That's it.
And she became pregnant by him?
No. That was Metis.
And fearing that the child would become stronger than himself and rule the heavens,
he took the child from her body and swallowed it whole,
and Athena sprang from his head.
Yes. Something like that.
I never used to believe that sort of story but, of course, now I can see that they're true.
Well, now you understand why I have always been divine.
And Drusilla is divine too.
I shall announce it at the same time I announce my own divinity.
This is the most glorious hour of my life!
Will you allow me to retire? I'll sacrifice to you at once.
The divine air you exhale is too strong for me.
I'm fainting, divinity.
Go in peace.
I was thinking of killing you, but I've changed my mind.
Send Drusilla to me.
I particularly like the scenes that show the domestic side of running the Roman Empire.
Jack wrote quite a lot of those.
I particularly liked playing the scene with Patsy Byrne, who plays Martina,
who is another poisoner.
The two women sit there, like two housewives, comparing recipes.
What other poisons do you use? Have you ever tried aconite, for instance?
Aconite? What's that?
Well, the roots look very like horseradish,
but it'll do more than clear your head.
Oh, yes. Bless you, lady. I know the one you mean.
Wolfsbane. That's what we call it. It came originally from India.
Really? I never knew that.
I bet you didn't know its antidote either.
Morphine?
You have made a study of it. Of course, I don't worry too much about antidotes
Well, you never know. Some fool of a slave may get the bowls mixed up.
I can see you've read a lot.
It's a pity you don't get a chance to practise. You'd be very good.
Thank you.
Tell me, now. What did you use on my grandson Germanicus?
- Ah, belladonna. - Ah.
- That accounts for the rash. - It always leaves that mark.
I didn't want to use it, but Plancina insisted.
I warned her, but she'd been told by know-it-alls how tasteless it was.
- You know what people are like. - Amateurs.
But you used witchcraft as well.
I wouldn't say that.
All I did was arrange some apparitions.
Your grandson was more superstitious than any man living. I frightened him to death.
If a man believes he's going to die, he'll die quicker than if he doesn't .
How did you gain access to that house?
You remember when Germanicus went to Egypt?
He took Agrippina, but left Caligula behind as a punishment.
- What for? - That child was never out of mischief.
He hated his father. They fought like cat and dog.
It was he who told me how superstitious his father was.
Well, they left him in the care of a tutor - a Greek - whom I knew.
He took the child for walks all over the city and each day he brought him to see me.
Oh, that child's a strange one.
He told me once he was born a god.
Such was the conviction with which he said it, I believed him and said I did.
It was then I suggested that he played the death game.
I said, "A god should be able to frighten a man to death."
He shouted, "Tell me how and I'll show you!" So I told him.
Are you telling me that that child was responsible for poisoning his own father?
- Shocking, isn't it? - He's not a god, he's a monster.
You try telling him.
- Hey... - What's the matter?
I don't know. I...
I've got a pain.
Oh, come!
It's wind, that's all. I have it all the time.
Do you think if I wanted to dispose of you, I'd stoop to doing it myself?
What's going to happen to me?
I don't know. I'll do the best I can for you.
It's lucky for you that my agents found you before my son's did.
Then you wouldn't be sitting here complaining about wind.
This is one of my favourite scenes. I have several, actually, but this is one of them.
And it concerns Claudius and Sejanus
as Sejanus tries to persuade Claudius to marry his sister.
The result of this scene is such that...
Claudius comes in at the beginning through one door as married to his present wife,
and leaves by the other door, about two minutes later,
having practically divorced his first wife and married another wife - Sejanus' sister.
This is both written and performed, in my view, so brilliantly
that I just love that scene. I think it's very, very funny.
And all I did was I trusted my actors.
I followed them with one camera, without cutting, right through the scene
and, to me, it works marvellously.
Claudius, my dear fellow. How nice to see you.
I was on my way to see C-Castor. I'm told he's very bad.
Yes. But he'll recover, I'm sure. Your sister is taking such good care of him.
Actually, I wanted to have a word with you.
What about?
This is an odd question to put to a husband, but did you know your wife was pregnant?
N-no, I didn't .
- How do you know? - I know.
Well, it's nothing to do with me. We haven't even spoken for a long time.
- You'll have to divorce her. - What for?
She's having someone else's child. What an eccentric fellow you are.
Your uncle would expect you to divorce her.
Oh. Oh, well, of course I'll d-divorce her.
- Whom will you marry? - Marry? I'm just getting d-divorced.
- Yes, but you won't want to live alone. - I was living alone all the time I was married.
Then it doesn't matter whether you marry or not.
- I'd rather not. - Nonsense.
I have just the woman for you.
She's beautiful, independent. She'll leave you alone as much as you like.
- Well, who is she? - My sister.
Aelia.
Well, she wouldn't want to marry a l-lame, sick fool like me.
She wouldn't mind. You're the Emperor's nephew. That's a good alliance for my family.
And on your side, you'll be my brother-in-law.
I've spoken to the Emperor. He's given his consent.
Oh, in that case, anything you s-say, Sejanus.
Good! Well, that's settled, then.
Very decent of you, Sejanus. Thanks a lot.
Another of my favourite scenes is the death of Augustus.
It's a triumph of acting...
over anything else, really.
There's no trickery in the camera. It's all absolutely down to the actor.
As you will see, the camera does not move away from him
until he is absolutely and well dead.
And you can actually see the light go out of his eyes.
Are you feeling better?
There's a delegation here from Rome.
They're waiting to see you.
Well, you're a fine one.
You made yourself worse with all those figs.
I never heard anything so ridiculous.
I only came on this journey to look after you.
You won't let me or anyone else cook for you.
It's very embarrassing, you know. People might think we were trying to poison you.
I sent for Tiberius.
Fortunately, he wasn't too far away. He'll be here soon.
Well...
I thought you might want to see him.
And he'll do everything that has to be done.
Hasn't he always?
Of course...you two haven't always seen eye to eye.
But that hasn't been entirely his fault. You know that, don't you?
You were always inclined to favour one over the other.
I've often spoken to you about it.
You made fish of one and fowl of the other so often
that no one knew where he was or what he was.
You should have listened to me more.
You should have.
You know that, don't you?
I've been right more often than you have, you know.
But because I was a woman, you pushed me into the background.
Oh, yes...
Yes, you did.
And all I ever wanted was for you...
and for Rome...
Nothing I ever did was for myself.
Nothing.
Only for you and for Rome.
As a Claudian should.
Oh, yes, my dear. I'm a Claudian.
I think you're apt to forget that at times.
But I never did. No.
Ever.
(KNOCKING)
How is he?
I suppose, really, I loved doing every scene that I did in this particular episode,
but if I was going to pick one particular one,
I'd have to pick the one where they've had a big row and Octavia has told him to get out,
and she's locked the door.
So he goes to see his mother,
and he finds that his mother is consorting with someone
who he dislikes enormously in the bedroom.
He gets rid of him and then, like a petulant child,
he tells his mother of his predicament - he can't get his rocks off with his wife -
and his mother, alarmingly, offers herself.
So take a look at this.
- What is the matter with you? - Nothing.
Why aren't you in bed? Where is Octavia?
- She's in the bedroom. She won't let me in. - Did you quarrel?
- Yes. - Well, why can't you sleep alone?
I don't feel like it. I feel... Oh, I don't know.
She won't lock me out when I'm Emperor, or tell me what to do. I'll do as I please.
It was very naughty of Octavia to lock you out.
Very naughty.
But she's only a child. She doesn't understand how you feel.
Would you like me to find a pretty house girl for you?
Shall I find one and send her to you?
- Is that man your lover? - No, of course not.
He's no business in your bedroom. I won't allow it when I'm Emperor.
I won't see him here again.
Oh. Oh, my poor baby.
It's not fair, is it? Lock you out of your room.
And you the Emperor Elect.
But then she's only a wife.
She doesn't feel for you as a mother would.
A mother knows how her baby feels.
Yes.
She wouldn't let him be unhappy.
No.
Never.
Oh.
Oh, I'm so sleepy.
In this scene, Tiberius has been banished to Rhodes by Augustus.
He has his soothsayer with him, played by Kevin Stoney...
excellently.
And he's waiting for news from Rome to call him home.
And he looks at the astrological charts
to see when he might be called home.
In this scene, he's looking actually at the soothsayer's chart
because he's fed up with Rhodes
and then news comes that his nephew, Lucius...
has been killed.
And he reacts in a very typical Tiberius way.
I love this scene. I hope you like it too.
- Excellency, there's a ship in the harbour. - I know. I've seen it.
I believe it comes from Rome. I'm sure it will bring important letters for you.
Nothing has arrived.
What do you see in your horoscope? It must be good news.
I'm not looking at my horoscope. I'm looking at yours.
At mine? You must be joking.
If there's good news on that boat, it will be in your horoscope.
Mine has been so indecisive lately, I thought it would make sense if I examined yours.
Why? What could that possibly tell you?
Let me put it this way. I decided that if nothing pleasing came off that boat,
I would have you thrown off the cliff into the bay.
That's very funny. Very funny.
What exactly does it say?
- Can you see anything? - Oh, yes, it's very clear.
It confirms my worst fears for your safety.
Extraordinary how accurate these things are.
Who'd have thought I'd make a decision about you this morning
and see it in your chart this afternoon.
- Perhaps you've cast it wrong. - Not as wrong as you've been casting mine.
Excellency, there's news on that boat. I'm sure of it.
- Didn't you see the eagle on your roof today? - There are no eagles in Rhodes.
Exactly!
Yet it was there. The whole town was pointing at it.
- It can mean only one thing. Good news. - Alas, but not for you.
- Sentor! - Excellency, let me look at the chart.
A man's destiny is not so easily read, believe me.
Yours is. I wrote it myself this morning.
Sentor, escort my friend down the cliff path.
And take care. I have a terrible feeling he may slip. His stars speak of disasters.
Yes, master. An imperial courier has arrived with despatches.
Show him out. My friend can wait a while.
You see, a horoscope, like the heart of a man, is not so easy to read.
Let's see what the despatches say, shall we?
Your prophecies haven't inspired much confidence lately.
Imperial despatch from Augustus Caesar for Tiberius Claudius Nero.
Lucius is dead. I am to return to Rome.
Dead?
Dead.
Dead?
Dead.
Sir, all Rome is drowned in grief.
Well, of course they are. That's only natural.
- What happened? - It was terrible. A boating accident.
A boating accident?
- Where? - In Marseilles.
He was on his way to Spain. He and his friend.
- His friend? - Caius Plautius Silvanus.
They were waiting for the boat to Spain. While they waited, they went out fishing.
Fishing?
I don't understand. Why are you laughing?
It's nervous laughter.
Go on with your story.
Well, go on, go on.
The boat overturned.
Overturned?
Yes. Shall I go on?
Plautius behaved like a hero.
He swam for two miles holding onto his friend trying to save him,
but when he got to shore, his friend was dead and he was in a state of exhaustion.
What a terrible thing.
Gaius and Lucius within 18 months...
and their mother banished in between.
That family is beginning to resemble a Greek tragedy.
- Is your ship returning to Rome? - Yes, sir. Tomorrow.
We'll join it. You may go now.
Curious the fates are.
My exile ended and you predicted it.
Brave Thrasyllus.
I never lost faith in you.
This is a scene that I like for a couple of reasons.
One, because I think it's a brilliant example of the writing by Jack Pulman,
who I think was an absolute master,
of how he understood the subtleties and difficulties of this particular story.
Secondly, it's a very good example, I think, of the character Caligula.
Of how, if you say the wrong thing, you could find your life in jeopardy
very, very easily.
And it demonstrates that kind of childlike quality that can be so dangerous.
It's a scene with Lentulus, who has been praying for me.
- Your recovery is a miracle. - You prayed for it, Lentulus.
Night and day. But our prayers are not always heard.
Yes, but yours were very special.
You offered your life to the gods in place of mine. That was extremely noble.
- It's true. I did. - And what are you going to do about it?
Do about it? What do you mean?
Well, I'm still here and so are you. But we oughtn't both to be here.
Should we not give the gods what we promise them?
You're in danger of the crime of perjury. Think about it.
But not too long. The gods won't wait forever. I know them only too well.
Now we shall walk through the market place and show ourselves to the people of Rome.
Still coughing? We must do something about that.
- You haven't forgotten my statues. - Certainly not.
My favourite scene in I, Claudius is in episode three.
It's a marvellous scene in which I kind of interrogate about twenty senators.
I accuse them of having slept with my daughter.
I go along this row of people. Brilliant camera-work.
It's a terrifying scene because you there see the full power of Caesar at work.
And you know that every senator that has slept with his daughter...
at the end of it all, though it is comical in a strange way - tragi-comedy -
they're all going to die horribly.
It's an absolutely terrifying scene.
You...
Aelius Sextus Balbas.
Is it true? Have you slept with my daughter?
- Caesar, I... - Answer the question.
Yes, Caesar...
And you, Marcus Volunsius Saturnius?
Have you slept with my daughter?
- Caesar... - Just answer the question.
Yes, Caesar.
And you? Have you?
And you, Publius Norbanus Flaccus?
Once, Caesar.
Ah, only once? That's all?
Not slept, Caesar.
Not slept?
You mean it happened standing up, or in the street or on a bench? Not slept.
Is there anyone in Rome who has not slept with my daughter?!
Take them out! I'll decide what to do with them later!
- Father... - No, no! I'm all right.
This must have been hard for you. Terrible.
It's a wonderful thing you've done coming to me. I'm proud of you.
I shall banish her. Banish her for life.
Don't tell me where she's gone, don't mention her name, but let her be all alone.
All alone until she dies! She's not fit for human company!
I particularly like the scene you're about to see because I think it's very funny.
Derek Jacobi's a wonderful person to act any scene with,
but particularly comedy.
- It's Livilla's writing. - Read them!
Wha...?
They poisoned Castor. Both of them!
Apicata was right. With his help, my daughter murdered her husband.
She reminds him of it there. And now she urges him to waste no more time,
but to assassinate Tiberius and take over.
It'll be easy, she says, every guard owes allegiance to him.
- W-what are these? - Isn't it obvious?
Drafts of the letter she wrote him. I can see how difficult it would be to write.
How she crawls and grovels to him.
How did you find them?
A slave was clearing out her room.
She was taking it to the furnace - perfectly good paper most of it, hardly written on.
Oh, I thank the gods for my habits of thrift.
Oh, he's wicked, but she's worse. She is monstrous, monstrous!
And I gave her birth.
- She's poisoning Helen. - Oh, Mother!
She's poisoning her, I tell you. Slowly, bit by bit, she is poisoning her.
She's obsessed with that man and will stop at nothing to get him.
Oh. W-what shall we do?
Tiberius must be told.
D-do you want people to know that your own daughter...?
Anyway, nobody sees Tiberius or writes to him without going through Sejanus.
- What's that thing you're writing? - Thing?
- You mean my History of Carthage? - Yes. Is it finished?
Yes. I was having it copied. I've just brought one copy home.
- W-would you like to read it? - No. I'll tell you what you must do.
You must go to Sejanus and ask permission to visit Tiberius at Capri.
Tell him you want to ask Tiberius' consent to dedicate the work to him.
Sejanus will allow it. He's nothing but contempt for you.
- He'll suspect nothing. - Thank you.
Those pieces of paper must be pasted in a scroll together with a letter of mine
and you will tell Tiberius to open that one first.
I suppose I could, but I didn't want to give him t-this copy.
It's got elephants drawn all over it.