Seneca (5 Stars)

Seneca is the kind of film that seems almost designed to slip through the cracks on first release, only to be rediscovered later by a small but fiercely devoted audience. Ostensibly a historical drama about the Roman philosopher Seneca and his final days under Nero, it is in practice a far stranger and more provocative work, one that feels deliberately out of step with mainstream expectations.

Part of its cult potential lies in its tone. Seneca refuses the polished prestige-movie sheen that usually accompanies films about ancient Rome. Instead, it leans into theatricality, artifice and anachronism. Dialogue often sounds more like modern political or philosophical debate than period drama, and the staging frequently recalls experimental theatre rather than epic cinema. This creates an unsettling effect; viewers are constantly reminded that this is not history being reconstructed, but ideas being argued. Films that make such bold stylistic choices tend to alienate casual audiences while captivating those who respond to them.

John Malkovich's performance in the title role is another key factor. He does not attempt to play Seneca as a conventional sage or dignified martyr. His Seneca is ironic, weary, self-aware and sometimes uncomfortably smug. It is a performance that invites disagreement as much as admiration, which is often a hallmark of cult acting turns. Fans of the film are likely to quote his lines, debate his interpretation and defend it passionately against detractors.

The film's portrayal of Nero also contributes to its cult appeal. Rather than a straightforward monster, Nero is depicted as a volatile mixture of childish insecurity, performative cruelty and desperate need for approval. The dynamic between Nero and Seneca feels disturbingly contemporary, echoing modern discussions about power, complicity and the moral compromises of intellectuals who serve authoritarian regimes. This thematic resonance gives Seneca the kind of relevance that encourages repeated viewings and late-night discussions.

Finally, Seneca is unapologetically talky and idea-driven. It foregrounds philosophy, rhetoric and ethical contradiction over action or spectacle. For many viewers, this will feel dry or pretentious. For others, it will feel like a refreshing provocation, a film that trusts its audience to engage intellectually rather than emotionally. Cult films often thrive precisely because they reject broad appeal in favour of a clear, uncompromising vision.

In short, Seneca is unlikely to be widely loved, but it is very likely to be intensely loved by the right audience. Its eccentric style, divisive performances and philosophically confrontational approach give it all the ingredients of a future cult favourite; a film discovered not by marketing campaigns, but by word of mouth, debate and the slow accumulation of devoted admirers.