ROMANS! (Guest post by Delilah des Anges)

Hallo again, it is once more Delilah, Melanie’s “you’re a terrible old lech, write something about sexy romans” skivvy of “Go and see Burke and Hare on my behalf” fame.

Fortunately “ogling men in and indeed out of Roman uniform” is one of the more fleshed-out sections of my CV, despite having thus far failed to watch I, Claudius; Spartacus; Caligula, Ben-Hur, or even what I am informed is possibly the greatest roman epic of all time, the incomparable Spartacus: Blood and Sand, even though I have been informed that it involves a deal of oiled, manly wrestling and enormous quantities of unrealistic gore, alongside Jon Hannah champing on scenery as if it was his sole source of nutrients.

Owing to this tragic lack of proper Roman movie education, my field is limited, and limited still further by every vaguely Sandals-and-Swords film I can remember turning out to be Greek rather than Roman, meaning that I can’t just pepper this post with pictures of Colin Farrell’s Alexander-mullet and snigger unbecomingly at him.

Let’s get this out of the way: Not everyone looks good in Roman gear. For examples, look no further than shouty historical inaccuracy festival of retribution and smear campaign against sanity Gladiator, in which Joachim Phoenix contrives to look as if he’s oozing half-digested lark’s tongues with every step (that’s okay, though, he’s the bad guy), and Russell Crowe – a point which I’m sure Melanie will not agree with me on – looks like an angry, half-shaven bear thrust unceremoniously into some armour.

Likewise there’s little to please the eye in Fellini’s bizarre adaptation of Satyricon, especially as most of the gentlemen involved don’t don armour but swan about the place arguing about poetry, buggering small boys, and making fart jokes.

All is not lost, though, because marvellous lunatic Derek Jarman’s “biopic” Sebastiane, which is more or less softcore gay porn in Latin, is studded with studs. Or at least terrifically muscular men who spend most of their time out of uniform (with the exception of blond sadist commander chap, who spends most of his time in his uniform, hitting the eponymous hero with things and looking troubled; Jarman was not noted for keeping his Id out of his films).

Some movies about the Roman Empire are abject comedy trash (or “cult classics”, if, like me, you want to excuse your end-of-the-pier taste for Carry On movies), and some are just unspeakably bad; Centurion falls into the latter category. It is mind-numbingly awful but features both The Wire‘s Dominic West and X-Men‘s Michael Fassbender yelping their way through atrocious dialogue in Roman uniform. And very fetching they look too, although Michael Fassbender helpfully escapes from his clothes and spends a little while prancing around the Scottish mountains with blood on his face and no shirt on. You’re welcome.

Slightly less awful and on the same subject (the missing Ninth Legion), The Eagle is some sort of Brokeback Scotland With Romans and makes approximately no sense as a heterosexual narrative. Its uniformed offering is Channing Tatum, who despite sounding like an infected intimate area of a gentleman’s body is in fact an actor, albeit one who is not blessed with an enormous range of facial expressions. He is quite attractive if you have a thing for men with necks wider than their heads; I don’t, but the film also has Jamie Bell with no shirt on being menaced by gladiators, so I don’t care.

Sometimes, of course, characters end up in Roman uniform in series that have absolutely nothing to do with the Roman Empire, often for reasons which make about as much sense as this post has so far. These “sod it, let’s have a fancy-dress bit” aberrances do however occasionally demonstrate the mystical transformative hotness powers of the Roman army uniform, as in the case of that Dr Who companion played by Arthur Darvill: from homely, big-nosed non-entity Rory Williams comes unstoppable BAMF and sex symbol Roranicus Pond, The Last Centurion. And all it takes is a fancy dress costume and some confidence.

Oh dear, this post is turning into examples of ways in which Roman uniform isn’t sexy.

But then there’s Rome. HBO’s Rome. Mad, beautiful epic Rome, heaving with gorgeous people (Polly Walker, Indira Varma, Zuleikha Robinson, Lyndsey Marshal, and Lindsay Duncan represent for Team Lady-Sexy) both in and out of uniform. There’s solid, grizzled puppydog Titus Pullo, played by Ray Stevenson, who swaggers around in legionary uniform as if it was a football strip; there’s debonair would-be Bond actor James Purefoy inflaming passions as Mark Antony, wearing armour that on him looks as if it should have a designer label attached and also like I need to go and tear it back off him immediately; and there’s beautiful ginger frown-that-walks-as-a-man Kevin McKidd, as Lucius Vorenus, man with the unfeasibly hot wife and unfeasibly delightful shoulders.

James Purefoy should probably win any hotness contest predicated on armour, here, since he does at one point shag a shepherdess against a tree while in full armour, but unfortunately for Antony, Kevin McKidd and his permascowl are just too beautiful to be passed over. Look upon his tunic’d torso, ye mighty, and despair.

Thanks Del – but, dude, you FORGOT CLIVE OWEN. I’ll just have to post an extra picture of him in his King Arthur armour to compensate…

Oh God, I can’t stop.

Seriously, I dread to think what will happen to the womenfolk of this land should Tom Hardy or, God help us all, Aidan Turner ever don Roman gear.

Delilah Des Anges writes terrible science fiction novels and less terrible poetry, and has seen “Sebastiane” more times than is strictly normal.