It was a dark and stormy night.
You know, hack writer that I am, I always wanted to start a piece with those infamous words: “It was a dark and stormy night.” And now I can. Spartacus: Vengeance: the gift that keeps on giving.
It was a dark and stormy night. Spartacus, leader of the rebellion, looks down upon the Roman siege forces—looks down literally, from on top of Vesuvius, and not because he thinks he’s better than them or anything (he’s not Martha Stewart, for goodness sake, though he can crochet up a storm if he needs to). Mira reports that the rebels are running out of supplies; they are short of firewood and food, and only have a two-day supply of Calvin Klein’s Obsession left as well. This last one makes Spartacus particularly glum—without water, all those gladiators have been relying on French showers—but Mira, ever faithful, tells him, “I believe in you.”
Further down the mountain, the Germaniacs, led by Nemetes, attack the Roman position. The Romans—and for the first time in any of these battles, I think—have the upper hand. You know, as much as I dislike the Romans, it’s nice to see them win something. It’ll give a boost to their self-confidence. I mean, at the rate they were losing, we were going to have to label them the Washington Generals of slave rebellions or something.
Burly Lugo is about to go literally topless when all of a sudden here comes Spartacus, leading a rescue party. They free some of the Germaniacs—Saxa, Nemetes—but sadly, in this scene we learn that bad-ass babe Mira is getting axed from the show—by taking an axe to the chest (one meant, of course, for Spartacus.) Self-sacrifice is a beautiful thing, Mira, and an important lesson for anyone to learn. Of course, you know another important lesson for everyone to learn? How to duck. Look into that one next time.
Mira dies, and Spartacus is all broody and sad for a good fifteen seconds. He beats up on Nemetes and it is evident that there is some dissension in the ranks. Oenomaus comes out and gives everyone the stinky one-eye—literally, since, of course, he only has one eye left. You know, I loves me a man who can instruct gladiators while sounding like Barry White, but I’m starting to think Oenomaus really needs an eye patch for that thing. And maybe something in a festive color—pink? Baby blue? Definitely a pastel, which might make Oenomaus seem a little more friendly and a little less constipated. I am sure Naevia would be more than happy to bedazzle it for him. Put something happy on it—perhaps a smiley face in silver rhinestones. I know it’s a hard look to pull off, but somehow I think Oenomaus is man enough to do it. Besides, who would not be terrified of a giant man wearing a diaper covered in scars with a baby blue eye patch with a rhinestone happy face on it?
Meanwhile, at the base of the mountain, Ashur reports to Gaius Hottius Glaber about the rebels’ attempt on the Roman line. Glaber asks Ashur how Spartacus looked, and Ashur tells Glaber that Spartacus appeared “deadly.” There was a wild look in his eye, an animalistic ferocity in his fighting, and a jaunty spring in his step (always a deadly combo). Glaber decides that patience is a virtue, and they will continue to hold their position here. And then, with nothing better to do during the long siege, he starts working on his Macarena. In the background, Adam Levine is crooning: “He’s got the moves like Glaber, the moves like Glaber, the mooooooooooves like Glaber.”
In a wagon, heading to the Roman encampment, Illithyia and Lucretia talk about happier times, when they will be back in Rome and Spartacus but a distant memory (yeah, let me know how that works out, okay?) Illithyia tells Lucretia she is very happy about the turn her marriage has taken, and like a crazy wedding planner, she starts preparing for Lucretia’s next nuptials. Lucretia tells her that she has been promised to Ashur by Glaber, but tells Illithyia she has a plan to be rid of him, a plan Illithyia happily agrees to aid with. You know, it is so nice that those two have each other to plan evil plots with. I have to do all my evil plot planning by myself, and it gets a little lonesome. Sure, it’s rewarding work to be nefarious, but it can be devastating to my skin-care regimen, so sometimes I miss having a whacked-out BFF like Lucretia or Illithyia to be sneaky with.
Back at Camp Runaway Slave, even the counselors are complaining about the new location. There’s no archery court, no place to hold wiener roasts (which must explain why Nasir and Agron don’t even touch each other the whole episode,) and let’s just say the toilet facilities leave much to be desired. The Germaniacs grow restless, and so does Gannicus. He tries talking to Spartacus, telling him that, like a good 1980s entrepreneur, it’s time to think outside the box. Spartacus mumbles on about having been up playing Halo all night long or something like that. Gannicus looks concerned, but figures, hey, if he is going to die, at least he dies surrounded by brothers. Personally, if I was going to die, I’d rather not be surrounded by my brothers so much as a hundred hot, nearly-naked men I was not related to as we frolic by a lake of molten chocolate. That sounds good to me. Then again, if the rebels keep eating those berries that give the Germaniacs the runs, Gannicus may very well end surrounded by a bunch of hot, half-naked men and a lake of molten chocolate after all.