Their scholarship is likely not crucial in this reimagined Netflix docu-series. Expectedly there is no White male expert on the panel. Of the half dozen guest commentators, only one is a guy-a token representation in the presence of the British-Egyptian doctor of philosophy of English literature (and TV personality) Islam Issa, who explored what he called “my version” of the last pharaoh’s story in the 2019 BBC documentary Cleopatra and Me: In Search of a Lost Queen. Unsurprisingly, much of the depictions of key characters are seen through feminist lens. Agonizing labour contractions put her above even the most of powerful fellows of her time: “Women must face dangers no man ever will”, Ms Pinkett Smith’s narration reminds us. Queen Cleopatra not only emphasised the pharaoh’s qualities, but it also particularised her abilities-in addition to being “a leader of undeniable power no one could ignore” and “first and foremost, a scholar, she was a scientist, she was a linguist” and a host of other selves that qualify as comic-book super, she is seen as a swordswoman and a falconer! And, more importantly, one who is able bear the excruciation of childbirth (such high threshold for pain she has that they have to show her screaming at two deliveries of three pregnancies, the last resulting in twins). While it is likely that this is a show by women for women, portraying a queen to be more than queenly is just going for the unnecessarily exaggerated. The continual need to prove and tell-and tell-that “I-want-it-all” Cleopatra, “mother to a nation of millions” (and after her liaison with Julius Caesar, became “mother of two nations”), was formidable became really tiring. From the second, the story became draggy. The script of the dramatised enactment is so weak-bordering on the trite, in fact-that it was near-torture even to get to the end of the first episode of the four-parter. Much of what is revealed does not add to what we already know about the amorous and power-seeking queen. The connection became stronger when current pop-such as Unbreathable by Konstantine Pope (and company) and Set the World Alight by Nick Evans and Jake Shillingford-are used in the soundtrack instead of Egyptian music, even if modern. If this is “fiction with some documentary”, as Ms Gharavi once described her work, it really is a mishmash that would be better aligned with MTV. And the repeated use of massive intertitles (not just the tittle) in bold, san-serif font denoting place and time that stretch across the screen has a cartoonish quality about it. Much of the “factual photography” could have come out of something from the History Channel. The story of the short life of the last pharaoh of Egypt is part Nat-Geo, part Animax. Queen Cleopatra is not an Egyptian Bridgerton, nor a Timeline feature. In order to sit through this, we thought it is best to ignore the controversial casting of the lead and look at the dramatic aspects of the docu-drama. This is not just illustrating the power of the famed ruler of Egypt, but also the power of the production team that could come up with a “re-imagined Cleopatra”, as director Tina Gharavi huffed in Variety. It is narrated by executive producer Jada Pinkett Smith, no less. “There was a time long ago when women ruled with unparalleled power… Cleopatra walked through the sandstorm of history and left footprints so deep that no man could ever erase them (never mind that no man could get to those footprints, if they’re still there, in a sandstorm).” That’s how Netflix presents the epilogue to the documentary series Queen Cleopatra.
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