The BBC’s I, Claudius tells a story of Roman power through someone who is repeatedly overlooked. Claudius, played by Derek Jacobi, watches relatives compete for position, conceal crimes and survive the dangerous attentions of emperors. His apparent weakness makes others underestimate him. That viewpoint turns a sprawling family history into a gripping television drama: the person least expected to rule may be the one who sees the most.

What is I, Claudius?

Broadcast in 1976, the serial was written by Jack Pulman from Robert Graves’s novels I, Claudius and Claudius the God. It presents Claudius as a narrator and participant in the history of Rome’s first imperial family. The events are filtered through the novels’ dramatic imagination. Viewers should approach it as historical fiction rather than a documentary account of what every emperor and relative actually did.

That distinction frees the programme to focus on motive, fear and the succession of power. Public decisions emerge from private conversations; a marriage can be a strategy; a quiet remark can be dangerous. Much of the drama happens not in battle but in rooms where people are trying to learn what others know.

Why Claudius makes a compelling guide

Jacobi’s Claudius is observant, vulnerable and sometimes much more calculating than others realise. He survives partly because the people around him mistake his speech and manner for a lack of intelligence. That misjudgement creates suspense. The audience understands that he can see the danger, but survival still depends on whether he can hide what he knows.

His position also gives the series an unusual rhythm. Claudius may be close to power without controlling it. He can admire a relative, fear another and still have to share a table with both. Through him, the imperial family becomes a network of relationships rather than a sequence of names in a textbook.

The ensemble around him

Siân Phillips’s Livia is central to the programme’s atmosphere of calculation. Brian Blessed’s Augustus, John Hurt’s Caligula and the wider cast bring very different forms of authority and instability to the screen. Their performances are bold, sometimes theatrical, and the series trusts extended dialogue to make the stakes clear. A conversation can matter as much as a public proclamation because everyone knows what a careless word may cost.

The production’s studio setting and close attention to faces give these exchanges force. Instead of relying on vast spectacle to represent an empire, it makes the empire feel concentrated in a family room. The audience watches for a pause, a glance or a sudden reversal of affection. That intimacy is one reason the serial remains watchable even when its costumes and effects show their age.

Power as a family habit

I, Claudius is full of plots, but it is not only about identifying the next scheme. It asks what happens when private life becomes inseparable from the state. A parent’s ambition, a child’s marriage and a ruler’s insecurity can all become public events. The characters may speak of Rome’s future while trying to protect their own.

Claudius’s survival offers no simple moral escape from that system. Being underestimated protects him, yet it also leaves him watching harm he cannot always prevent. When power finally comes within reach, the question becomes whether knowledge of its dangers is enough to use it differently. The serial earns that question by letting the family’s patterns accumulate over time.

Where to start

Begin at the first part and follow the story in order. The relationships, suspicions and changes of ruler build on one another, and Claudius’s perspective gains meaning from what he has already witnessed. Watch it as an adaptation of Graves’s fictional voice, then read further history if the period catches your interest. The programme’s achievement is to make a distant imperial household feel immediate, dangerous and recognisably human.

Sources: BBC history: 1976 broadcast; BBC Programme Index: adaptation and cast credits; BFI: I, Claudius and its television legacy.