Aside from both being sword-and-sandal dramas set in ancient Rome, 2000’s Gladiator has nothing whatsoever to do with Spartacus, the Starz series that aired three seasons from 2010 and 2013. But as I watched Spartacus: House of Ashur, the new spinoff from the latter, my ears kept ringing with that signature line from the former: “Are you not entertained?!”
House of Ashur is nothing if not hell-bent on entertaining, serving a bacchanalia of sex and violence to make Game of Thrones look restrained and enough bitchy backstabbing to power an entire Ryan Murphy miniseries. By the end of the five hours sent to critics (of a 10-part season), I could only answer that question in the giddy, exhausted affirmative: Yes. Yes, I am entertained.
Spartacus: House of Ashur
The Bottom Line
Bloody fun.
Airdate: 9 p.m. Friday, Dec. 5 (Starz)
Cast: Nick E. Tarabay, Graham McTavish, Tenika Davis, Jamaica Vaughan, Ivana Baquero, Jordi Webber, Claudia Black, India Shaw-Smith, Leigh Gill
Creator: Steven S. DeKnight
That devotion to fun extends to its very premise. Spartacus heads will know that Ashur (Nick E. Tarabay) died, definitively and gruesomely, in the parent show’s second season, and therefore has no business starring in his own sequel. (Spartacus newbies, which include your faithful reviewer, will know none of this and don’t really need to.) House of Ashur resurrects the fan favorite anyway, just because creator Steven S. DeKnight (also the mind behind the original) thought it’d be interesting. The choice is justified in-universe via a laborious speech from guest star and Spartacus alum Lucy Lawless that boils down to “It’s an alternate timeline, don’t worry about it.”
In this version of events, Ashur, a former slave and gladiator, was the one who killed the rebel Spartacus, and was subsequently made master of his own house. Despite his newfound wealth and status, he’s still disdained by an established nobility who miss no opportunity to remind “the Syrian” — always said with a sneer — of his lowly and foreign origins. As he sees it, his best shot at climbing up the ladder is finding victory in the arena with his own ludus (stable of fighters), the newest and most controversial acquisition of which is Achillia (Tenika Davis), the realm’s first-ever female gladiatrix.
House of Ashur feels like a silly show, in the sense that it puts its lizard-brain pleasures front and center, without a shred of apology or self-seriousness in sight. Its characters don’t simply have sex; they throw extravagantly catered orgies and get eaten out while catching up on the latest political goss. They don’t kill cleanly when they can hack through skulls and tear off body parts, spilling enough blood to fill the Mediterranean. And no one settles for just talking shit in the series’s faux-Latin syntax (dropped articles, lots of curse words) when they can scheme to have their enemies publicly humiliated or straight-up murdered.
A more sober-minded drama might try to ground its universe in some authentically “gritty” version of the past, or play up the gravitas of its most famous historical figures. House of Ashur gives us a Julius “Yes, That One” Caesar (Jackson Gallagher) whose bleach blond locks and improbably chiseled jawline look more “TikTok influencer shilling for a Beverly Hills med spa” than “august profile on ancient coin.” It works because this isn’t the kind of show that needs you to buy that this version of Caesar is literally, factually accurate. This is the kind of show that just wants you to get what a stab-worthy little shit he is.
But House of Ashur’s surface-level outrageousness shouldn’t be mistaken for laziness or sloppiness. On the contrary, it’s undergirded by surprisingly sturdy storytelling. Its larger plot takes its time, so that each new development feels organic and earned, rather than plopped in by screenwriters desperate for a cliffhanger. Achillia doesn’t become a worthy champion overnight but earns her place bit by bit over grueling hours in the process, reminding us precisely how punishing her ordeal is. Ashur’s machinations failing at first mean it’s all the sweeter when they do bear fruit, since we understand how hard-won even his minor victories are.
Well — that, and because we’ve seen who exactly he’s up against. Ashur, played with delicious bombast by Tarabay, is by no means a good guy. Arrogant, mercurial and self-centered, he bristles at reminders of his formerly low status but then turns around and treats his own slaves, including staunchly loyal bedmate Hilara (Jamaica Vaughan), with callous disregard. But he’s easy to root for in a world populated by the likes of Cossutia (Claudia Black, wonderfully wicked) and Proculus (Simon Arblater) — vicious nobles who plot to make an example of this outsider “pollut[ing] the pure waters of the republic,” lest other non-elites get any highfalutin ideas about social mobility.
House of Ashur‘s tone remains in a cheerfully hedonistic register as of now; for all the death and betrayal on display, it’s not really what you’d call a profoundly moving experience. But there are hints of more potentially emotional storylines to come, including what looks like a poignant backstory for Achillia, as well as an unexpectedly tender relationship for Ashur’s grizzled gladiator trainer, Korris (a formidable Graham McTavish).
Granted, none of these nascent subplots have paid dividends yet — as I said, this series likes to take its time. But it’s promising that House of Ashur seems to understand that if it’s the NSFW pleasures that draw us in first, it’s the growing attachment to these characters and their lives that will keep us on the hook.
And while we wait? Well, it also ensures you’re never very far from an opportunity to do your best impression of a Roman citizen circa 60something BC, and rise up in your living room shouting for a sword-wielding gladiator to “Kill! Kill! Kill!”
