“Those About to Die”: The Gladiator Epic Nobody’s Talking About (But Should Be)

Imagine if Game of Thrones and Gladiator had a baby — raised it in ancient Rome, gave it Brad Pitt’s golden glow from Troy, and unleashed it into modern streaming. That’s Those About to Die, Peacock’s brutal, beautifully made series that deserves way more attention than it’s getting.

This show is epic in every sense. Massive sets dripping in decadence. Blood-soaked arenas echoing with the roar of the crowd. Scheming elites playing real-life chess with human lives. It’s the kind of story where ambition and betrayal are as common as sand and spilled wine. The fight scenes are visceral, the stakes are high, and the tension never lets up. The atmosphere is cinematic and rich — you can practically smell the sweat and gold.

And yes, let’s be honest — There. Are. So. Many. Butts. Glorious, chiseled, unapologetic Roman butts. The show doesn’t shy away from the rawness of the human body, and honestly, it’s part of the immersive appeal. It’s sexy, but not gratuitous — it just feels real, like we’ve stepped into a world that isn’t filtered or sanitized and I am totally here for it. Especially when the Spanish arrive.

But even beyond the spectacle, what truly hooks you is the layered storytelling and compelling characters. The cast is stacked with fierce women, ruthless power players, and warriors torn between survival and purpose. There’s drama, there’s strategy, and there’s a constant sense of “no one is safe” that keeps the suspense rolling.

Still, I’d be remiss not to mention something that stuck out: the portrayal of its LGBTQ+ characters. While it’s encouraging to see queer representation in a historical epic (something TV has often ignored or erased), Those About to Die leans into a pattern that’s grown tired — where gay characters carry some form of tragedy, illness, or psychological turmoil. It’s subtle, but it adds an undercurrent of queerness being synonymous with suffering or instability. In this story line the character in question is the son of the fallen Caesar alongside his brother. The gay brother is depicted as the manipulative and reckless authoritarian over the brute and powerful straight brother who takes the throne. Representation matters — but so does how it’s done. Why is it that we never see the confident, powerful, caring and gay prince portrayed when leading in a TV show or film?

All that said, I need season two yesterday. The way season one ends? I’m begging — no, pleading — for answers. So many threads, so many unresolved arcs. The show builds such a rich world, and to leave it hanging would be a crime against storytelling.

If you’ve been craving something with the grit of Thrones, the power struggles of Gladiator, and the poetic sorrow of Troy — with some much-welcome eye candy along the way — fire up Peacock and dive in. This is the show you didn’t know you were missing. odrama, fire up Peacock and prepare yourself — because the arena awaits.