Sword epic just too hard to hack

By FRANCES GRANT

Boudica was a queen of ancient Britain but Andrew Davies, writer of last night's Warrior Queen (Sunday Theatre, TV One, 8.30pm), was certainly determined to drag the first-century lady battler kicking and yelling into the 21st century.

The Roman occupying forces talk of "acts of terrorism", the kids throw stones at their oppressors, the statue of the great dictator is toppled as the feisty underdogs try to rid their country of the invaders. The historical parallels were as subtle as a blow to the head with the fearsome queen's hefty sword.

The drama was even rounded off with the terribly cliched device of jumping to the present day, with one of the characters walking by a statue of Boudica in modern London.

Davies described his drama as a cross between Braveheart and I Claudius, with satirical touches. It was a mongrel, all right. And surely it was all intended to be satirical.

How else do you explain the Roman soldiers swapping such frightfully Anglo lines as "You'll be glad to get home, I dare say" - this was pure Monty Python, as was the depiction of Roman courtly decadence with its dastardly poisonings, incestuous bonking and general ambience of a never-ending toga party.

In contrast, the ancient Britons were an honest, toiling folk, strong and healthy, outdoorsy, awfully brave and, as Boudica kept telling us straight to camera, full of the joy of life. When it came to the battle, every last one of them was up for it. Even the nippers squad - average age about 7 - appeared to have no problems dispatching a Roman legion or two.

The Emperor Claudius, who came teetering effeminately over to Britain in a palanquin, introduced himself to Boudica's Iceni tribe as a "broad brush strokes sort of person". Unfortunately for the sickly soul, the British queen was more of a wild sword strokes sort of person.

While the Romans wittered on about tax collecting, economies of scale and whether they could "hack it" in Britain, Boudica and her new lover were over, as the script so improbably continued, "licking Roman ass".

Boudica, as played by Alex Kingston (whose ER credentials no doubt contribute the star appeal necessary to attract an American audience), made Xena: Warrior Princess look like a overdressed namby-pamby as she roared around on her chariot, lopping off heads and limbs.

Despite the dreads, the fur and all the deconstructed leather flapping around, Kingston still managed to display the statuesque figure she brandished so valiantly, Sunday Theatre followers might recall, as the strumpet Moll Flanders.

This came in handy for when the bloodlust became plain lust, as it did in one of the drama's more excruciating moments when Boudica and her warrior lover decided to get down and dirty in the bed of the very Roman commander they had just vanquished.

Of course, it wouldn't be a swords and sandals epic without a bit of torture and Roman cruelty, and Warrior Queen obliged with a flogging and the rape of Boudica's daughters. Boudica was hopping mad, as any British queen worth her salt would be.

Although it had its amusing moments, in the end the only way to sit through the drama was to see it as the comic-book version of what could have been an intriguing tale from British history: Boudica the Briton, a lustier, rather more buxom answer to Asterix of Gaul.