Review
Culture
Film & TV
Paganism
5 min read

Kaos shows why we might think twice before inviting the old gods back

The illusory glamour of Olympian gods titillates us once more.

Theodore is author of the historical fiction series The Wanderer Chronicles. He previously studied Dark Age archaeology at Cambridge, and afterwards worked in international law.

A mock classical ceiling painting depicts modern version of the classical gods.
Ye gods above.
Netflix.

The old gods are making a comeback all across Western culture. This is a conclusion increasingly reached by a spectrum of culture-watchers; some religious, some not at all. But, if true, the boldest and brashest example of this comeback may well be the new Netflix series KAOS, starring Jeff Goldblum, released last month.  

Kaos is a genre-busting mythological dark comedy-drama. One might say a modern re-summoning of the pagan gods.  

Charlie Covell, the writer and mastermind behind the show, and a self-confessed mythology geek, has created a colourful, high production, and often funny depiction of what the world might be like if the gods of Olympus still ruled over us. The plot follows several different strands taken from Greek mythology - most obviously Orpheus’s journey into the Underworld to bring back his dead wife, Eurydice - and weaves them together into a larger narrative, retelling the downfall of the gods. 

As the show opens, Zeus reigns as king of the gods from his fantastically kitsch mansion atop of Mount Olympus. So long as the sacrifices and adulation of humankind keep rolling in, he is happy. But when he wakes one day to discover a new wrinkle on his forehead, this triggers not only a kind of mid-life crisis, but also possibly - so he fears - the end of the world as he knows it.  

Goldblum plays Zeus as, well, Jeff Goldblum: quirky, nervy, paranoid, and not a little menacing in an understated way. In other words, perhaps more “Jeff Goldblum” than you’ve ever seen him on screen before. It is certainly a compelling and sometimes hilarious portrayal.  

“A line appears, the order wanes, the family falls, and Kaos reigns.”  

This is the prophecy that has haunted Zeus for aeons. What he doesn’t know is that he shares this personalised prophesy with three other mortals in the story - Eurydice (Aurora Perrineau), Caneus (Misia Butler), and Ariadne (Leila Farzad) - all of whom will play an unwitting role in bringing about the overthrow of the world order under the Olympian gods (hence: KAOS). The early episodes establish who these mortals are and begin to draw their disparate stories together.  

Counterpoint to Zeus is his brother, Hades, ruler of a literally black-and-white underworld, with David Thewlis brilliantly cast in the role as the world-weary and ailing keeper of the realm of the dead. Something is amiss down there which threatens the whole system of human souls and what happens to them. When he tries to warn his brother, Zeus’s disdain for Hades and his problems only makes matters worse. Also in the frame of this dysfunctional family are Hera (Janet McTeer) and Poseidon (Cliff Curtis) - brother and sister (and wife in Hera’s case) to Zeus, as well as being lovers behind his back, who are poised to put into effect their own betrayals, if Zeus goes too far off the rails. 

Last, but not least, since he proves the bridge between the gods and humans is Dionysus (Nabhaan Rizwan), one of Zeus’s many children. (But the only one who comes to visit.) A hedonistic agent of chaos from the outset, Dionysus seems to be the only one of the gods with any genuine interest or admiration for humans. Impressed by rock-star Orpheus’s passionate love for his wife, Eurydice (“Riddy”), it is Dionysus who helps Orpheus break into the Underworld to get her back when she dies, thus triggering the series of events that could let to the fulfilment of the prophesy. 

The illusory glamour of the gods of Olympus seem to titillate us once more. We don’t really believe in them, but we’d kind of like to see more of them all the same.

Smart, stylish, twisty and certainly original - (the entrance to the Underworld is through a dumpster bin around the back of a bar) - Kaos is an ambitious multi-stranded epic about power, fate, love, and family. But perhaps above all, it is saying something about the relationship between humanity and the divine. At one point, one mortal tells another that the only good things in life are human. This feels like a statement of underlying intent. And the way the gods (especially Zeus) become more capricious, more sadistic, more vengeful as the story unfolds, the more it feels like we’re encouraged to agree. Defiance of the gods is the real mark of virtue here. Rebellion against the gods, the natural outworking of that defiance. 

The irony is that whatever distaste which Kaos succeeds in cultivating in us, the viewer, for pagan forms of the divine may help explain why, historically, Christianity swept aside all the pantheons of pagan worship of the first millennium in the wholesale way that it did. Jesus Christ literally incarnates that bridge between the divine and the human. And what’s more, the message he preached claimed that, far from disdaining humanity, God loves them so much that he was willing to be the sacrifice for their good. And not the other way round, demanding incessant and capricious sacrifice by humans instead.  

Now, centuries later, in Western culture, familiarity seems to have bred contempt with that far more hopeful story. Instead, the illusory glamour of the gods of Olympus seem to titillate us once more. We don’t really believe in them, but we’d kind of like to see more of them all the same. And storytellers like Charlie Covell are only too willing to give the public what they want. If the old gods are indeed trying to make a comeback, Kaos shows us why we might think twice before inviting them in.  

Does Kaos succeed? It certainly makes a valiant attempt to marshal a large number of plot lines involving a huge cast of characters, unfortunately not all of whom are interesting enough to keep you coming back for more. And an awful lot is riding on there being a Season 2 - that is, if the threads we have followed so far are to lead on into a satisfying and meaningful conclusion.  

Without that, I’m afraid the whole thing may be left standing alone as a work of, well… chaos. 

Podcast
Culture
S&U interviews
Weirdness
5 min read

My conversation with... Tom Holland

Noticing that Tom Holland is the star of The Rest Is Politics Christmas special, Belle Tindall is remembering her conversation with the historian earlier this year.
A man sits at a table speaking into a microphone but looks into the distance. Behind him, through the window and beyond a wall is Big Ben
Tom Holland recording the podcast at Lambeth Palace Library.

In a festive one-off, two worlds have collided. Tom Holland, of the beloved 'The Rest is History' podcast, has joined Rory Stewart and Alistair Campbell in their 'The Rest is Politics' parallel universe. They spend a merry hour talking through religion, politics and the way in which they have both shaped our modern world... plus dinosaurs, always dinosaurs. 

And it got me reminiscing - my mind drifted back to earlier in this slightly odd year, on the eve of the coronation, when we had the one and only Tom Holland on our podcast. We called that episode of the podcast - Re-Enchanting History and the Coronation - but for me, it could just as aptly be entitled Re-Enchanting the Weird.  

Below is a reflection that I wrote immediately after that fascinating episode was recorded. If you've enjoyed his appearance on The Rest is Politics, you may just enjoy his appearance here too. 

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Re-Enchanting the Weird

Let me start in the proper place, with introductions.  

If you are a fan of history, Tom needs no introduction. But, for those of you who are not yet acquainted with his wonderfully infectious expertise, Tom is the co-host of the beloved podcast, The Rest is History (alongside Dominic Sandbrook). He is also the best-selling author of Rubicon, Persian Fire, Dominion, and the up-coming book for children, The Wolf-Girl, The Greeks, and The Gods. Justin Brierley and I recently had the pleasure of soaking up a little of Tom’s extensive knowledge when we interviewed him for a Coronation special of Seen and Unseen’s Re-Enchanting podcast.  

Tom’s most recent book, Dominion, charts the mighty impact that the Christian revolution has had; beginning with its unexpected origins and following its cultural reverberations through to the present age, highlighting its very present influence. We are, to borrow Tom’s own phrase, a society of goldfish who are (perhaps unknowingly) swimming in a distinctly Christian fishbowl. And so, our conversation began there – as he pointed out that, like it or not, the West operates in the residue of the Christian revolution. Christianity has been hidden in plain sight all along. For the sake of eloquence, I’ll let Tom explain:  

‘The conceit of the West is that it’s transcended Christianity to become purely universal, purely global. But its values, its assumptions, its ethics remain palpably bred of the marrow of Christianity’.  

Throughout our conversation, Tom took us on a whistle-stop tour of what was, what is, and the thread that can be drawn between the two. And while I don’t wish to spoil things for you, I imagine you can guess what the thread is. This conversation touches upon the origins of democracy (as we perceive it), the Reformation and the Nazis, to name but a few. I couldn’t recommend it enough. But I must warn you, you cannot un-hear Tom’s observations. The things he points out, you simply cannot un-see. Christianity will no longer be hidden; it will just be in plain sight.  

Seen as it is within in touching distance, we also wanted to get Tom’s thoughts on the Coronation. And this is where the re-enchantment of the weird began. At least, for me.  

The very notion of this upcoming Coronation is odd. It is a distinctly peculiar event.  

Firstly, it is incredibly old. We are the only country in the world that still does this particular thing in this particular way. What we will see unfold before us is derived from the 10th Century, when King Edgar was coronated by St. Dunstan, and yet it goes back further still - its roots actually lie in Bronze Age Israel.  

During the Coronation, the ancient and the modern will converge. As spectators, we will be peeking into times gone by; as Tom (rather excitedly) said, watching this ceremony, and everything that will surround it, will be like ‘seeing a dinosaur… still alive… in a zoo’. I wrote that last week’s conversation with astrophysicist, Dr. Jennifer Wiseman, made me feel small – small in time and small in place. Well, in many ways, so did Tom’s thoughts on the Coronation. The ritual is so very old, and we, so very young.  

But there is more. Tom reminded us that the Coronation is not only old, it’s weird. It places the mystical, the supernatural, the sacred, and the down-right strange on centre stage.  

Nick Cave, who will be sitting in Westminster Abbey on the day despite not being much of a royalist, explained that he accepted the invitation purely because of its bewildering oddness. In his Red Hand Files, he wrote  

‘what I am also not is so spectacularly incurious about the world and the way it works, so ideologically captured, so damn grouchy, as to refuse an invitation to what will more than likely be the most important historical event in the UK of our age. Not just the most important, but the strangest, the weirdest.’  

Both Nick Cave and Tom Holland have allowed themselves the fun of being curious. Curious about the fact that something profoundly supernatural is about to be taken incredibly seriously in the heart of a so-called secular society. And whatever pragmatic questions I may have about the place of monarchy in the here and now, I think I will allow myself the fun of being curious about that too.  

My conversation with Tom re-enchanted the parts of Christianity that, as someone who grew up as a Christian, I used to be quite embarrassed by. Namely, the weirdest parts.  

As a teenager, my instinct was to minimise (at least in public) the aspects of the Christian faith that cannot be explained by rationalism. I used to keep quiet about the parts of my faith that outed me as someone who believed in things that are supernatural. I would try my absolute best to blur the details of the most obscure facets of Christian thinking. But, as Tom said, ‘a Christianity that has bled itself of enchantment is a pallid thing.’ And if there is one thing that the whole Jesus movement was not, it’s pallid.  

If you, like Tom Holland, crave enchantment, this episode will be for you. Afterall, what better place to go looking for the wonderfully weird than in the ‘greatest story ever told’?