Revenge/Porn: Django Unchained, Terence's Eunuchus, and the Role of Roman Slavery in the American Imagination

Abstract

Revenge/Porn: Django Unchained, Terence’s Eunuchus, and the Role of Roman Slavery in the American Imagination RICARDO APOSTOL Slavery is sexy. Just ask Thomas Jefferson. Ask any reader of Fifty Shades of Grey, or, for that matter, any viewer of Caligula, Spartacus, Sebastiane, Fellini’s Satyricon , or a whole host of Roman sexploitation flicks. There is no point in denying it: slavery and sex have always gone hand in hand (not least among its disturbing aspects), unsurprising since it is in the very nature of the institution that one person receives complete control over the body of another, to do with as they will; and whether as living institution or fantasy , people have taken advantage of, and continue to take advantage of, slavery as a way of getting their kicks. I can hear the hue and cry already: “Classicist condones slavery and rape!” No, not by a long shot. If anything, this essay is a buzzkill. It seeks to elucidate the link between a particular use, for purposes of entertainment, of ancient Rome in the modern imagination, and aspects of sexual enjoyment which consumers of that entertainment would rather not think about. I want to force readers to confront the source of that enjoyment, thus perhaps ruining it for them. Like one part of its source material, and any good revenge fantasy, this enterprise is all about the return of the repressed, with predictably messy results for the guilty, who may not have even realized their guilt before the superego kicks their door down, guns a-blazing. 1. film structure and psychic apparatus guilt is an absolutely necessary part of the equation. Since guilt requires conviction, I will have to say a few words arion 23.1 spring/summer 2015 about the choice of Django Unchained and the Eunuchus, to prove that they’re not random lines of argument but rather two crosshairs aimed squarely at something within our collective psyche. These two comedies (for such they are) bear marked structural similarities: both tell the story of an intelligent , tricky slave working to secure illicit sexual favors for their inept and boorish masters (Calvin Candie, Chaerea) from another slave (Broomhilda, Pamphila) over whom somebody else bears a prior claim (Django, Thais), and who turns out to be essentially free. The central subterfuge on which the plot depends consists of sending a free man dressed as a slave (Django, Chaerea), a character over whom the shadow of castration looms but never lands, into the household where the female object of desire is kept, to take her for his own. A flamboyant bit part gets much attention, but is ultimately frustrated (Dr. King Schulz and Thraso, respectively; this part exists because in both cases there are odd doublings among protagonists and objects to give the storyline further richness). And finally, quite improbably and against all odds, free man and suddenly free woman reunite while the churlish enemy gets what he deserves, although everything is just slightly too morally ambiguous for comfort (at least for sensitive members of the audience—both works are designed to appeal on multiple levels). The observant reader will have noticed that I elided one structural pair in the above description, since upon it hinges the major contrast between the two works, and the starting point for my discussion. The tricky slave in Eunuchus is Parmeno, member of a proud lineage of subordinate trickster-heroes that includes such worthies as Figaro and Plautus’ Sosia. One difference, though, perhaps, is that Parmeno in the Eunuchus may be involved in shadier shenanigans than is commonly the case among his cunning confraternity; this may render him a slightly tarnished version of a normally quite Teflon-coated troupe. This is not at all clear, however. There is debate about how outraged certain moralistic members of the Roman audience may revenge / porn 92 have been, but we have no evidence of widespread condemnation of the play, for whatever such silence is worth. More anecdotally, I can say from my own teaching that the vast majority of students to whom I’ve taught the play in a vain effort to incite them to outrage have given Parmeno a pass, but only after I have...