Screening the Golden Ages of the Classical Tradition

Screening the Golden Ages of the Classical Tradition explores how films and television programs have engaged with one of the most powerful myths in the Western classical tradition: that humans once lived under ideal conditions, as defined by proximity to the divine. We feel nostalgia for this imagined origin, regret at being born too late to enjoy it, and worry over why we lost it. We seek to recover that “golden age” by religious piety—or, by technological innovation, try to create our own utopia. The breach between this imagined world and lived reality renders these mythical constructs as powerful political tools. For the “golden age” concept influences how participants in the Western classical tradition view our own times by comparison, as an “iron age” whose degradation we lament and wish to escape. This “golden age” complex has manifested in the world-building activities of ancient Greek and Roman texts, from Hesiod to Suetonius, and in modernity’s hagiographic memory of certain historical societies: Periclean Athens, Thermopylae-era Sparta, and Augustan Rome. These fourteen collected essays discuss how golden age themes animate screen texts ranging from prestige projects like Gladiator and HBO’s Rome, to cult classics like Xanadu and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, to films made by auteurs including Jules Dassin’s Phaedra and the Coen Brothers’ O Brother, Where Art Thou? Essays also examine the classical “golden age” tradition in fantasy (Game of Thrones), science fiction (Serenity), horror (The Walking Dead), war/combat (the 300 franchise, Centurion, The Eagle), and the American Western.

Author(s):  
Meredith E. Safran

This volume introduction analyzes a pervasive fantasy in American popular media: the desire to escape an “iron age” deemed materially and morally degraded in comparison with an idealized lost world that people hope somehow to recover. This idealized “golden age” is viewed with the painful longing of nostalgia and the sorrow of belatedness from the degraded “iron age” of the viewer’s present time, often accompanied by inquiry into how and why golden conditions no longer obtain. Self-proclaimed heirs to classical antiquity’s cultural patrimony adopted this myth with alacrity, and its deployment can be traced continuously throughout the classical tradition, including in popular media not conventionally associated with classicism. The introduction reviews key strands of golden-age discourse in ancient Greek and Roman texts, including views on human-divine relations, gender relations, and technological innovations; and modern receptions of historical societies as golden ages to be emulated, especially Periclean Athens, Thermopylae-era Sparta, and Augustan Rome. Case studies include the Vergilian concept of “Arcadia” as deployed in the sci-fi television series The 100 and “golden age thinking” as a psychological malady in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris.


Author(s):  
Laura Gawlinski

In the third of three chapters examining Athens’ golden-age legacy, Gawlinski discusses how the “flu episodes” of The Walking Dead’s fourth season re-animate a highly influential classical plague narrative: when the civic ideals of “golden age” Athens, lauded by Pericles in the famous Funeral Oration featured in Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War, fall to the lawlessness (anomia) spurred by an outbreak of plague as the walled city is besieged by the Spartans. The series’ dramatization of the community’s failure to live up to its ideals interlaces with the struggle of its protagonist, former sheriff Rick Grimes, to follow an example from the Roman Republican strand of the classical tradition. Cincinnatus, the Roman leader who temporarily left his farm to save the state by taking up emergency powers in wartime, then returned to pastoral life voluntarily, has been invoked as a model for American leaders since George Washington. Grimes tries but fails to follow this Roman model, further undermining the community’s attempt at Athenian-style civic life and abandoning the communal farm. Thus two classical models promoting a turn away from strife are shown as unsustainable, like the golden age itself.


2018 ◽  
Author(s):  
Michael Simeone ◽  
Advaith Gundavajhala Venkata Koundinya ◽  
Anandh Ravi Kumar ◽  
Ed Finn

The trajectory of science fiction since World War II has been defined by its relationship with technoscientific imaginaries. In the Golden Age of the 1930s and 1940s, writers like Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein dreamed of the robots and rocket ships that would preoccupy thousands of engineers a few decades later. In 1980s cyberpunk, Vernor Vinge, William Gibson, and Bruce Sterling imagined virtual worlds that informed generations of technology entrepreneurs. When Margaret Atwood was asked what draws her to dystopian visions of the future, she responded, "I read the newspaper." This is not just a reiteration of the truism that science fiction is always about the present as well as the future. In fact, we will argue, science fiction is a genre defined by its special relationship with what we might term "scientific reality," or the set of paradigms, aspirations, and discourses associated with technoscientific research.


Author(s):  
Sophie Halliday ◽  
Rhys Owain Thomas

Television schedules are rife with Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. The re-launched Doctor Who and its prime-time Saturday night stablemate, Merlin spearhead the rise of contemporary British Telefantasy (Being Human, Misfits et al.).  Meanwhile, their American equivalents attract audiences of millions, extensive media attention and, since Peter Dinklage’s Emmy and Golden Globe-winning performance in Game of Thrones, widespread critical acclaim through mainstream industry awards.  Histories of “quality” television are awash with examples of American Telefantasy that have left an indelible impression on popular cultural (and even socio-political) imaginaries; Star Trek, The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Lost, and Battlestar Galactica all being enduringly popular examples. As American television networks prepare to launch their all-important “Fall” schedules, ushering in a new year of programming, it is evident that Telefantasy will continue to garner its fair share of TV viewers’ attention – whether due to hotly-anticipated debuts (666 Park Avenue, Arrow, The Neighbors, Revolution), finales (Fringe), provocative content (American Horror Story, True Blood, The Walking Dead, or a general capacity to entertain, bewitch or amuse (Community), Falling Skies, Grimm, Once Upon a Time, Supernatural).


Author(s):  
Alex McAuley

In the second of three chapters that address Rome’s complicated legacy as an imperial state, McAuley contrasts the mid-twentieth century “golden old days” of ancient-world epics, which represented Roman soldiers as consummate professionals and warfare as neatly executed, with recent representations of the Roman army for post-9/11 audiences: a new “iron age” of betrayal, despair, and post-traumatic stress disorder. These films reflect a fundamental shift in the psychology of warfare and killing since Vietnam, which has created a vastly different and more ambiguous kind of conflict than the Cold-War binary of Spartacus (1960).McAuley examines the impact of this paradigm shift on contemporary depictions of the Roman army and its soldiers: first, by considering the “golden age” of Roman warfare in films from the 1950s and 1960s, in contrast with the dystopic view of Centurion(2010) and The Eagle (2011). He then traces the depiction of the individual Roman soldier in each era. Finally, he examines the broader contemporary context for post-9/11 depictions of antiquity: the growing body of films about the War on Terror, with which films like Centurion and The Eagle have far more in common than with their golden-age predecessors.


Author(s):  
Emma Scioli

In the second of three chapters examining Athens’ golden-age legacy, Scioli traces how Jules Dassin repeatedly draws attention to the origins of his 1962 melodrama Phaedra in Greek myth and tragedy through visual imagery, as a complement to his 1960 comedy Never on Sunday. Phaedra’s use of ancient Athenian art, and its suggestive modernization of elements from the ancient Athenian tragedyHippolytusand Racine’s 1677 adaptation Phèdre, force a confrontation with a particular modern formulation of the ancient Greek past. Dassin draws upon the golden age to characterize the world of ancient Greece that irrupts into the early 1960s setting of the film both visually and thematically. Rather than fostering nostalgia for a golden age that might prompt a desire for its return, Phaedra presents it as an intrusive presence from which its characters feel alienated, only to demonstrate that they are inextricably bound, in their modern dress, to repeat what the tragic past has prescribed for them. Such self-conscious appropriation of Athens’ literary-dramatic and artistic-material remains informs the tragic belatedness of Phaedra and reflects upon the American expatriate director’s sense of foreignness in the homeland of his lover and artistic muse, Greek actress and activist Melina Mercouri.


Author(s):  
Ryan Platte

In the first of two chapters investigating the role of Homeric epic in fabricating golden ages, Platte reveals how Joel and Ethan Coen’s O Brother, Where Art Thou?, which proclaims its debt to Homer’s Odyssey in the opening credits, also re-enacts Homeric epic’s creation of a golden age. Platte focuses on the role of song in generating ancient and modern societies’ gilded memories of the past, including the nostalgia-laden misremembering of the Depression-era American South in which the film is set. Platte emphasizes how technological change affected the American folk-song tradition through recording – a phenomenon similar to that which changed Greek song culture into “Homeric” epic. By focusing on a moment of epochal change, the filmmakers undercut the notion that folk music is a simple and genuine artefact of the past. Instead, invoking nostalgia through song exposes the artificiality of the traffic in nostalgia, which has shaped attitudes toward the ancient Greek and modern American pasts. Through the protagonist’s encounter with two Homer avatars, the Coens dramatize both the process of nostalgia-creation for such a golden age and the rejection of attempts to politically weaponize it: in this case, by obscuring racism in romantic depictions of the “Old South.”


Author(s):  
Andrew Pilsch

Chapter 2 discusses the "Superman Boom," a science fiction publishing phenomenon in the 1930s that coincided with the dawn of the Golden Age of SF. In addition to the fiction, this chapter documents the fan response that positioned SF readers as genetic supermen and inspired plans for fan utopian communities.


Author(s):  
Jad Smith

Like Isaac Asimov and Robert A. Heinlein, science fiction author Alfred Bester started his career as a pulp writer and finished it as a Grand Master, but he followed a far more curious path to the field’s highest honor than either of his big-name contemporaries. He focused on SF only intermittently yet, as a result, developed a distinctive, outsider approach that opened up avenues for cutting-edge vanguards such as New Wave and cyberpunk. Making extensive use of Bester’s unpublished correspondence, this book carefully examines Bester’s entire career, giving particular attention to how his work across mediums, combined with his love of modernist and decadent authors, shaped his groundbreaking approach to science fiction. During the 1950s, Bester crossbred pulp aesthetics and high style to explosive effect, producing landmark novels and stories that crackled with excess and challenged the assumptions of Golden Age science fiction. His focus on language as a plot device and a tool for world-building, and his use of modernist style in the service of science-fictional extrapolation left the field changed forever. The book argues that what Bester brought to SF was not a radically new template but an idiosyncratic self-reflexivity about the writing and reading protocols of the genre that put the field into a highly productive and transformative dialogue with itself.


2020 ◽  
Vol 12 (3-2) ◽  
pp. 231-259
Author(s):  
Oleg Donskikh ◽  
◽  
◽  

The author presents the attitude of Russian poets of the XVIII–XIX centuries to different aspects of economic life based on their works. The poetry of the XVIII century was rigidly differentiated by genre, and it was not supposed to reflect the specifics of economic relations in general. The only exceptions were satirical works whose authors criticized, primarily from the moral side, certain aspects of everyday life, and in particular, the practice of tax collectors. Nevertheless, poets did not do without comments about the socio-economic division of society into separate groups, the significance of certain power decisions for the development of the country’s economy, and, of course, the role of money and trade in the development of society as a whole and in human lives. Some poems contain curious references to international trade, the development of which, especially in the reign of Catherine II, led some poets to hail progress and even characterize this time as a ‘Golden Age’. It is shown how the assessment of the epoch changes during the first half of the XIX century, and how the ‘Golden Age’ is transformed in common opinion into the ‘Iron Age’. The role of economic and socialist theories in the life of society is increasing. A poet of the XIX century descends from the position of an external observer watching the sinful earth and he is horrified to find himself at the mercy of money and related interests, which produce a highly negative effect on morality, subordinating all human aspirations to monetary relations and, therefore, coarsening the soul. We consider the disputes about the progress between the lyric poets and our quite straightforward Westerners. Alexander Blok sums up a certain result of the social orientation towards purely economic relations and the technological progress associated with it in the poem “Retribution”.


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