“Kill them all”. Thus spake Spartacunt, husband, gladiator, Thracian legend. He’s really got no time for Romans, having been shafted by them his entire life and the final straw was finding out that his wife was murdered on the orders of that rat fuck Batiatus. Now it’s payback time. A season’s worth of blood, betrayal and lust on Spartacus: Blood and Sand came to the boil in a meticulously organised script executed with the boldness and flair we’ve come to expect from this show. Hack and slash melodrama it may be but showrunner Steven S. DeKnight is Buffyverse alumni. He knows how to tell a story. For the slave rebellion Spartacunt proposes to go ahead multiple pieces need to fall into place and the motivations are brilliantly worked out. Why would gladiators risk their lives for a doomed rebellion? Under the new patronage of Gaius Claudius Glaber the ludus is a frenzied hive of Roman ass whippings – brutality reigns as never before. Even doomed rebellion is preferable to this.
Lucretia finding out about Crixus slipping his Gallic schlong to Naevia now means she desires Crixus’ end at the hands of Spartacunt in their death match. The two fruits discuss the proposed rebellion before the bout and Crixus is agin it but they nonetheless swear to honour pledges to each other upon the showdown’s completion: Spartacunt victorious will see Naevia located and Crixus victorious will kill Battyarsetits. Now we have a fight.
Spartacunt, like the crazy bastard he is, runs, rises and vaults all way on to the balcony to skewer the head of a smug Roman fuck on his arrival. It’s a neat way to travel and a glorious way to commence battle.
Intrigue yet piles on intrigue as crunch time approaches. That clever cocksucker Ashur poisons Crixus’s meal before the fight to weaken him. Spartacunt reveals this to Crixus mid battle and the stubborn Gaul finally realises that his only way out of slavery is in his own strong arm to deliver. Guy coding Spartacunt with his eyes and a tap on the shield, Crixus is all “behold, your springboard!” and Spartacunt, like the crazy bastard he is, runs, rises and vaults all way on to the balcony to skewer the head of a smug Roman fuck on his arrival. It’s a neat way to travel and a glorious way to commence battle.
Although, calling it a battle might be dignifying the Roman efforts too much. The slaves put a hurting on their masters that shakes Rome itself. This is a fucking rout. Roman soldier limbs lie scattered like chicken wings at a barbecue as their nobility run screaming. Pukecreature gets kebabed by Crixus, aborting their baby in the process. “I would rather see it dead than suckle at your breast”. She looks at him all “You mean you’re breaking up with me?” before waddling off, her mortal wound trailing corn syrup, piss and raspberry juice after her, to go find Battyarsetits to give him one final piece of grief before she leaves this world. Tough break, Pukes.
Meanwhile, that little shit Numerius gets his from Varro‘s widow Aurelia who stabs the 16-year-old dweeb to a lifeless bloody pulp for sealing her husband’s fate. When the confrontation between Spartacunt and Battyarsetits arrives it is a short affair with Batty’s defence for killing his wife a less than convincing one. “I gave you the means to accept your fate!” To which Sparts responds “And now you are destroyed by it” before slashing Batty’s throat as a dying Pukecreature looks on.
“This is a fucking rout. Roman soldier limbs lie scattered like chicken wings at a barbecue as their nobility run screaming. Pukecreature gets kebabed by Crixus, aborting their baby in the process.”
Oh and that little slut Ilithyia survives the slaughter by jamming the doors behind her as she escapes, condemning her fellow Romans to certain death. Proper little madam, that one.
You might wonder where Doctore is in all of this. The brother sides with the slaves once he hears from Crixus the full extent of Battyarsetits’s treachery. It a lot to take in but it’s only a one-hour show so after a full 10 seconds of soul-searching he hits the ground running and is quickly pummelling Ashur in swordplay. The crafty Syrian cheats death by hiding under some Roman corpses in the courtyard. Count on his re-emergence next season.
The rebellion succeeds. The house of Battyarsetits falls. The Roman soldiers are served Julienne style over cinnamon rice. The adjoining villa looks like it’s been attacked by a giant food processor. They have indeed killed them all. The brothers are free, free at last. So now what?
That’s for season two to decide (clue: mountain retreat then marching on Rome) but for now let’s give props to a terrific show that got better with each episode. Lurid to a fault, preposterous throughout and amped to its eyeballs it slowly began to mould its obvious influences into something unique. The show is a lot smarter than it looks. It takes considerable skill to pick up the number of loose threads it left dangling going into this finale and tie them all up without sacrificing credibility, character or story yet they do it brilliantly.
Starz showed their faith in a show by commissioning a second season before the first even premiered. Production was delayed as the (excellent) actor playing Spartacus Andy Whitfield underwent treatment for cancer. Aerial Telly wishes him a speedy recovery and grants the show his blessing and endorsement. How can it now fail?
The verdict on Spartacus: Blood and Sand Season One Finale “Kill Them All”: Thrilling end to an impressive season.
Marks out of 10: 8