“There are unscrupulous people in Russia,” Catherine tells her scheming foreign minister in the opening episode. “Fortunately, I am one of them.”
Fortunately for Catherine, at least. And arguably, for Russia too.
They don’t call her Catherine the Great for nothing. The German-born empress deposed her own husband, foiled a number of would-be coups and presided over the largest nation on Earth for more than 34 years—during what many consider to be Russia’s golden age. She was considered enlightened for her time and place, and she enacted (or, at least, tried to enact) many reforms for which she was later fondly remembered.
But you don’t get called great without taking chances or making enemies. The historical Catherine hatched many a scheme under the table and bedded many a man under the covers. And naturally, it’s that sort of “greatness”—the great licentiousness of her court and the great duplicitousness of her times—that is of the greatest interest to HBO.
This HBO miniseries opens a few years into Catherine’s reign, but her crown is hardly secure. A rival, the son of a long-dead Czar, could potentially serve as a figurehead for a popular revolt. The scheming Orlov brothers, who helped Catherine secure the throne, want more power and prestige in return—and they believe they can take the throne away just as easily. Even Catherine’s own son, Paul, thinks it’s high time that mummy share some power with him. He is, after all, the man of the family.
Enter Grigory Potemkin, the latest youngish Lieutenant to catch the empress’s ever-roaming eye. He has his eye on Catherine, too—not so much for her power and wealth (though that doesn’t hurt), but because he’s truly smitten by her: her courage, charisma and her ability to operate so well in a man’s world while still flouting significant cleavage.
But Potemkin is more than just a pretty face: He’s also a skilled strategist, both politically and militarily. And with so many countries threatening war, and with so many nobles breathing rebellion, she could use some sound advice in both areas.
The fact that he’s good in bed, naturally, doesn’t hurt his standing, either.
Starring Helen Mirren, who’s made something of a cottage industry playing queens, HBO’s Catherine the Great is a lavish production that attempts to recast Catherine as a feminist hero—especially when it comes to her attitudes toward sex.
“Actually, to this day we think we’re liberated, but we still have profoundly different attitudes to the sexuality of women and the sexuality of men,” Mirren told bustle.com. “Things are acceptable in a man that are not acceptable in women. Catherine jumped over that fence and landed on the other side.”
Most everyone in the miniseries is cavorting on the other side, though. Pretty much everyone who’s anyone here has sex for the camera—often repeatedly. For such a chilly country, it’s remarkable how many people cavort without clothes here. It’s almost as if HBO spent so much money on Catherine’s extravagant gowns that they didn’t have money to outfit half of the extras.
And while the principal actors tend to have their privates shielded from the viewers’ voyeuristic eyes, all the panting and grunting and heaving certainly reveals what’s going on underneath all those corsets.
On the spiritual side of things, the Russian Orthodox Church, while important in Catherine’s Russia, is depicted as just another power-hungry player more than it’s shown to be a devout outlet of worship.
Russia gets plenty violent, too: While Catherine saw herself as a benevolent monarch, she rarely blanched at ordering someone’s head chopped off or sending countless soldiers off to war. Remember, this is a woman who, if she didn’t officially order her own husband to be murdered, she certainly didn’t shed many tears when he was.
These issues make HBO’s Catherine the Great as problematic as—well, as Catherine’s historical court probably was. Back then, all that sex and death was the way business was done in royal palaces across Europe. But at least most of the time, they had enough to propriety to close the doors a bit. Here, on HBO, they’re flung wide open. Eighteenth-century debauchery is given a 21st-century makeover and handed to us on a silver remote control, for viewers to devour at their leisure.
Catherine goes to a secluded prison to visit a mysterious inmate—meeting two men along the way: one who will try to lead a coup against her and one who will become her lover. Meanwhile, her current lover (Grigory Orlov) frets over his lack of official recognition, even though he and his brother killed Catherine’s husband, the former Czar, thus paving her way to power.
Grigory eases his love pangs with a young someone: The two are standing, she completely naked (we see her breasts) as they have sex. (His brother enters the room, and while Grigory is annoyed at the interruption, he’s not at all embarrassed.) Grigory Potemkin, meanwhile, has frequent sex with Catherine’s trusted friend, the Countess Bruce. (We don’t see any critical nudity; but through movements, sounds and crude dialogue, it’s very obvious what they’re all engaged in.
Potemkin’s real belle, though, is Catherine herself. They flirt frequently. Catherine also tells her 19-year-old son that it’s time he got married. Some people comment on Catherine’s promiscuity. A ball requires that attendees dress in drag (for comic effect).
A man has his throat slit: We see the stroke of the knife, a showy spurt of blood and, later, the corpse (with a ghastly-looking gash in his neck) on the table. An executioner lops off the head of a would-be conspirator, needing two hacks to do it. (We witness both blows clearly, as well as the bloody head rolling free of the body.) A man is beaten badly by two brothers, eventually getting thrown out a window (and afterwards is beaten some more). He bears witness to the beating all over his face.
The Orthodox Patriarch, while ceremonially ushering Paul (Catherine’s son) into adulthood, stresses the importance of fathers in their sons’ lives: (True enough, but a sideways glance at Catherine tells the empress that the religious leader does not approve of her, or of her leadership of the country.)
Catherine mocks Turkey’s threats of retaliation and the country’s words of “fire and death and the wrath of Allah.” A fool in Catherine’s employ asks the queen, “Aren’t Christians supposed to turn the other cheek, especially when people are trying to kill them?” He then whips out a puppet of Catherine’s dead husband. “Still dead?” The fool asks. “’Fraid so,” the puppet responds. Catherine expresses fidelity to Russia’s holy church but, as we’ve seen, acts in no way holy.
Drinks are quaffed. Money is gambled. Cleavage is heaved. Characters say the f-word six times. We also hear sporadic uses of “a–,” “b–tard,” and “d–n.” God’s name is misused twice.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
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