The Tudors

The problem with shows based on history is that rarely is there a surprise. Considering that the minute we met Anne, we knew her expiration date, I think The Tudors took a wise approach in making her execution episode (and, sadly, the second season finale) more of a mood piece than even trying to shock us with gratuitous blood or emotional outbursts. After all, we already got that last week.

Henry, save for one angry moment, was surprisingly unconcerned with the fate of his wife and daughter. Perhaps his love for Jane Seymour and change, shown through his rebirth in the "Fountain of Youth" (a scene that, abnormally for this show, made me want to retch) simply put the blinders over his heart. Hell, even Cromwell got all shaky over what was going on, and he's not exactly the type to dwell on bad decisions. At least we saw Henry truly happy at the end of this episode. OK, so he was happy because he was tearing into some sort of goopy dish hidden by a stuffed swan (and no, I have no idea what that was supposed to represent, and I'm usually all about symbolism), and not, for instance, staring into Jane's dreamy eyes, but regardless, it's nice to see Jonathan Rhys-Meyers show us a range beyond self-doubt and righteous indignation.

But let's be honest here; this episode was Anne's. Happily, we were spared the ranting that Master Kingston mentioned and so only got to see her at the point where she'd accepted her fate. This show usually does go for the bombastic, but Natalie Dormer's performance was subtler and more understated than I was expecting. The idea that she would help choose her executioner instead of trying to change the King's mind until the last minute was a serious maturation over the character we'd seen previously. It could be, though, that watching her brother beheaded simply broke her spirit.

Her nearly hysterical laughter at hearing that her execution had been delayed, and at the idea of having, "such a little neck," was disquieting, as was her subsequent breakdown at learning that she would have to wait yet another day to be beheaded. She pretty much swung between numb acceptance and despondent acceptance the whole episode, with the exception of the one moment where she asked if there wasn't some meaning in the continued postponements. Her memory of playing with her brother and father as a child (but not Mary) hurt, especially when contrasted with her father's reaction to his release. Charles Brandon was right to ask him if it was all worth it, but what was he really expecting Boleyn to say?

The only piece of the episode that felt out of place was the conversation between Lady (Princess?) Mary and Chapuys. It was obviously utilitarian — we needed the exposition — but the dialogue just rang very false, what with Chapuys calling Elizabeth a "brat", and Mary looking as though she'd been injected chock full of Botox (seriously, one would think that the restoration of her own legacy and the delegitimization of her hated half-sister would give her more than just a mildly amused smile). Similarly, Elizabeth's governess explaining that she would no longer be a princess and advising an underling to marry a rich, stupid man, was just odd, and even less necessary, given what we learned over the course of the rest of the episode.

All in all, a satisfying season, though I must say that since Sir Thomas More's execution, the show has sorely missed Jeremy Northam. The show has already been renewed, so let me just end by saying, "The Tudors is dead! Long live The Tudors!"

These bloody days have broken my heart.
My lust, my youth did them depart,
And blind desire of estate.
Who hastes to climb seeks to revert.
Of truth, circa Regna tonat.
-Sir Thomas Wyatt

At least out of the carnage came the beautiful poem V. Innocentia Veritas Viat Fides Circumdederunt me inimici mei, the full text of which can be found here. Unfortunately, to get it, we had to say goodbye to Messrs. Smeaton, Boleyn, Norris and Brereton, while Thomas ("I'm the only who's guilty!) Wyatt, and Thomas Boleyn have to live with the knowledge that most of their allies are dead due to false accusations of treason. Well, Wyatt is in a peculiar position because we never really got a true sense of whose side he was on, or if he was even on any side. He simply loved Anne and now knows that she's going to be killed. I believe in reality he wrote the poem after her death, and not before, but it was a beautiful contrast to the gruesome imagery of beheadings and blood spurting.

This outcome was inevitable after Anne's second miscarriage last week. Had she not lashed out at Henry, accusing him of causing it by "wenching" with Jane Seymour, maybe she would have lasted a bit longer than she did. But it seems that Henry considers himself above reproach in all facets of life; his inability to have a son with his first wife didn't cause him to run to Anne — it was witchcraft! And now that Anne also can't give him a (living) son, she must be poison personified. It's incredible to watch someone with such ego refuse to take any responsibility. However, if he truly does believe that God has chosen him, how can he be fallible? Taking that thought to its logical conclusion gives him the assumption that a deformed fetus couldn't possibly be his, and so those long-standing rumors of infidelity were finally investigated. In the context of this show, however, we can't discount Anne's blaming him as a real catalyst, if he truly believes he is beyond reproach.

But back to this week, and the four poor souls who were beheaded. I must admit that at first I was confused by Brereton. I thought he'd loudly, and rapidly protest the idea that he'd have slept with Anne, and that he'd call in Chapuys as a character witness ("No, really! We were plotting to kill her! I swear!"). And then, with a great thud, I realized he'd decided to go out a martyr to his cause by utterly destroying the King's faith in Anne.

It wasn't shocking that George's wife turned on him, though I was surprised that no one brought up his relationship with Smeaton as further proof of his allegedly deranged nature. Smeaton's torture was excruciating to watch (and that scream that came out of his mouth when he was on the rack — truly bloodcurdling), so death may have been a respite for him. On the other hand, I was unmoved to see Norris go, as we mostly just knew him as a guy who had his eye on Anne. He was an underdeveloped character and his death, while tragic for him, wasn't very resonant.

Thomas Boleyn's true torture had to have been listening to Anne's reaction to George's death. His semi-stoic reaction was not so much honorable as disturbing. Here's someone who knows his whole family is basically slaughtered and all because of his own greed. It's hardly surprising, given his conduct over the last two seasons, but I suppose I thought we'd see one moment of sheer emotion.

By contrast, Anne was all emotion, all the time. Her keening at her brother's death was so frustrating and despondent, it made me realize just how much I'm going to miss Natalie Dormer's wonderful portrayal next season. Alternately accepting and disbelieving, she knows she's getting the really, really raw end of the deal and should serve as a great warning to Jane Seymour, who's family seems to want to take the same path to power as the Boleyns did.

See you all back here next week for the grand denouement. Will we see a compassionate side to Cromwell? Will Henry feel as bad about Anne as he did about Sir Thomas More? Will Jane's brother realize he's the spitting image of Anthony Andrews in Brideshead Revisited (seriously, Google it)? Only time will tell!

Hello fellow subjects,

I won't get a chance to recap episode 8 (I haven't even gotten a chance to watch it yet!), so please use this space to chat. Sunday's recap will discuss both episodes, so I'm not abandoning you on this one. I swore an oath to the King that I wouldn't do a half-hearted write-up, and I'm afraid he'd behead me if I did otherwise.

Onward to Sunday!

“If you could read Greek, Master Smeaton, you’d know that even the gods had problems with their wives.” — George Boleyn

If that quotation doesn’t just about sum up all that is The Tudors, I don’t know what does. Had I started watching this show without knowing anything about the history of England, I’d probably be under the impression that all of Europe’s problems in the 16th century were due exclusively to Henry VIII’s bats*** exes. Luckily, we all know it’s slightly more complicated than that, but just to balance things out, I say we give some credit to Thomas Boleyn et al, for using his daughter as a rung in his climb up the social ladder. Anne might want to claim, as she did in that final scene, that she did most of it herself, but her father and brother were just as culpable in bringing about Henry’s (and England’s) woes.

Like last week, this episode was all about transition. Because, I suppose, we can’t see more than two of Henry’s wives at the same time (would that be the Law of Conservation of Wives?), we watched Katherine be replaced with Lady Jane Seymour, daughter of Sir John, apparently an old family friend. What a horrible way for Katherine to go, though. She’d been sick for so long, as Anne pointed out, that her death seemed like a relief even to her. However, she was still denied access to her daughter, except in pain-induced hallucinations, and her estate was nearly in poverty, leaving her almost none of the comforts she’d been accustomed to. With the way things are going for the Church in England, I’m almost surprised she was allowed to have a priest present to give her the Last Rites. I only wish I knew what Henry thought, as he read what she’d left for him (her love, her wish that he’d return to God). Was he comparing her to Anne? Was he full of regret? So much on this show is usually so overtly (sometimes obnoxiously) expository, but not Henry’s reaction to this.

On the other hand, this week Anne was all about exposition. Crazy exposition. Unfortunately for her and her entire family, she’s starting to chafe at the confines of her role as wife and Queen — positions without the influence she had when she was only the mistress. She quarreled with Cromwell about where the confiscated Church money should go (he says to the King, she says to charity), with her family about her actions, and with Henry about their daughter’s future. On the upside, she conceived again after some angry sex with Henry (at least I assume she isn’t actively having an affair with Smeaton), but something tells me her prediction of being, “on the edge of a golden world,” is a bit premature, and perhaps just a symptom of her anxiety.

Some superfluous (in the flow of the episode, but not in the greater history of things) scenes this week: the Huguenots ransacking a monastery, the Pope talking about how Henry must face the consequences of his actions, and the shoehorned in scenes with Wyatt and the now-deceased Elizabeth. These scenes were worthy of mention because they’ll probably come in to play in later episodes, but they didn’t really belong in this one.

A note: Next week’s write-up will either go up a few days early or a few days late, as I’ll be on vacation next Sunday. Nevertheless, a recap will go up at some point before the next episode airs. Happy scheming!

Not that I approve of the whole going-insane-with-jealousy thing, but the feminist in me can't help herself from saying good for Anne for calling Henry on what he's doing. Now, I doubt that he has a real harem, as she seems to think, but she definitely knows that he's got more lady friends than just Madge (who I'm thinking is the inside spy Brereton spoke to Chapuys about; the one who claimed that Anne was deformed). Plus, she's patently aware of the fact that the more women he sleeps with, the less her influence matters — especially after the More martyrdom — and the more precarious her situation becomes. At this point, Henry is less concerned with getting a son than with being respected and accepted by his peers across Europe, and Anne is definitely an albatross in that regard. Even King Francis is shunning Anne and Elizabeth now, which means that Henry either has to re-legitimize Mary, or risk being a completely isolated state.

Those Boleyns though, I'm telling you, they are going to get royally, ahem, screwed (how's that for poetic justice?). Mary is probably lucky that she was basically cast out of the family. Not that they don't deserve it, between Thomas's machinations involving his poor daughters and George's rape of his new wife. Yes, they're a really manipulative, distasteful bunch altogether, but that doesn't mean I don't have sympathy for Anne. Her father forced her in to this situation and now she's going to suffer worse than the rest of them. It's not surprising that Thomas is starting to pull out all the stops to keep his family in good standing, including threatening Cromwell by pointing out that it was only through the support of the Boleyns that he became the second most powerful man in England (officially).

Cromwell is less concerned with the survival of the Boleyns and more with the monster he's wrought in the totalitarianism of Henry's Reformation. An 80 year-old man blesses Katherine instead of Anne and he gets denounced? Thank god for Cromwell's basic decency and logical mind, or that 80 year-old might have been forced to forgo a natural death. Even Wyatt points out that the King's power is now absolute and completely solidified, and Cromwell can't really disagree. He's got to be asking himself how to temper Henry and quite frankly, I think the only way that's going to happen at this point is with Anne's demise. That way the Reformation can continue without the physical embodiment of why it began in the first place. Plus, if she's dead, who can object anymore?

I have to admit that I wasn't really feeling this week's episode. It's only natural that the rest of the season is being set up, given that this was the midpoint, but it was a little too much transition and not enough organic character growth for my tastes. We've watched Henry semi-gradually grow to hate Anne over the last few weeks, but I find it hard to believe that More's execution was really the last straw for him. It seemed a little too convenient as something tangible to point at in a "See what she did?!" way.

It looks like we're meeting wife number 3 next week. Anne, don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Alas, More is no more (you knew there was going to be a groan-inducing pun sooner or later). It was a set up, I tell you, a set up! Entrapment! The whole system was against him! I joke, but it's true. Cromwell and Richard Rich played Gotcha with Sir Thomas, even though it seemed that both were sympathetic to his plight. But the fact that More, with his legal and scholarly training, fell for the "hypothetical" gives me the impression that he was, by this point, so resigned, and ready to get this all over with, that he welcomed an excuse to be a martyr sooner rather than later. Taken together with the fact that he felt slightly betrayed by his family, he was probably ready to make his final statement. He really seemed particularly distraught to hear that his daughter wanted him to just say the words without believing them. Perhaps it would have been one thing if they had a legitimate difference of opinions on Henry — he probably could have accepted that — but to find out that she swore an oath without believing it just undermined her entire ethical upbringing. In any case, More took his execution in greater stride than Fisher, who nearly cracked before his own, but one wonders whether, in that final second, he (More) had any regrets. I'm not completely convinced he did, to be honest.

Henry, on the other hand, certainly did. Here was a man that helped educate him and supported him, but whom he still felt compelled to have executed. Henry could have done whatever he wanted, including making More an example of his mercy, and not his tyranny, but like any good Machiavellian, he chose to be feared and not loved.

It wasn't a great episode for Her Majesty either, between losing her baby (could it have been (gasp!) a son?), finding out her sister had secretly married a commoner for love and was now pregnant, and being reamed out by her father for losing the King's affections. At the very least, she could point at Thomas More and go "Well, at least someone's having a worse time than I am!" Meanwhile, her husband is cheating on her (again) with someone new, and she's turned up the flirt-level with Smeaton. This is not a happy marriage, despite their mutual assurances of love. Just look at his awkward half-support of her in the face of her miscarriage. Perhaps part of his anger towards More at the end was really transference of anger towards Anne. He destroyed his relationship with More because of this woman who now can't produce the son she promised.

I'm still looking at all of this and trying to figure out Cromwell. It's easy to look at the actual history and see what he physically accomplished, but what was going on in his brain? What's the next step after wiping out dissent at the Courtly level? Obviously there are still commoners out there loyal to the Church, and taking an oath isn't going to change that. In any case, James Frain is doing a fantastic job portraying Cromwell and all of his complexities, so I have no complaints about him pushing Rhys-Meyer's Henry off of a bridge, psychologically speaking.

Now that Fisher and More have been disposed of, who do we think is next to go in this grotesque gong show? I, for one, am not going to do my history homework because I want to be surprised.

I once saw a program on The History Channel that described Henry VIII as a glutton and showed him ripping into a cooked chicken with such gusto that it looked as though he'd fare well on the competitive eating circuit. The Tudors is teaching me that he went through women at nearly the same rate he went through chicken. In the space of fourteen episodes, we've seen him bed 5 or 6 women at least, and we're only on wife number two!

Luckily, we're finally seeing the kind of complex character we had last season in Anne. Is she offering up one of her Ladies out of pressure from her father, love for her husband, or a sense of self-preservation (or a combination of all three)? In any case, she obviously hates her father for suggesting it, her husband for forcing her to it, and herself for agreeing to it all. Add that in with her attempt to get back into the good graces of the despondent Princess Mary (more on her later), and you have a woman who is starting to lose on all sides. Spoiler alert, Anne: It's not going to get any better.

In more immediately dire straits is Sir Thomas More. As I watch him, and his unwavering determination to save his soul at the expense of his life (and the welfare of his family), I ask myself why he never simply picked up and left England for France, Spain or Rome? Surely he would have been rewarded for having snubbed Henry's attempts to subjugate him and his beliefs. In not taking the oath regarding the Act of Succession, he certainly displays enormous faith, but even he, in his stiff-upper-lip kind of way, accepts the situation as hopeless. Having known Henry as long as he has, and having watched him change into a vengeful despot, More must realize that his martyrdom will have no effect on the English Reformation.

And what is there to say of Cromwell? Is it possible that he's both the most forgiving and most manipulative character on the Court? No one else would have given Bishop Fisher, Sir Thomas and Charles Brandon more chances to redeem themselves than he. However, his behind the scenes work is often so subtle (even when their results are so shattering) that every time I think I've caught up to his plan, I find I'm about six steps behind. He wholeheartedly forces through all of the King's wishes for greater authority and respect while showing amazing amounts of personal disdain for Henry. Unlike, say, Thomas Boleyn, Cromwell's concerns are not those of how to maneuver the current political situation, but in redrawing the entire political and religious landscape in England. The fact that no one is catching on is a testament to Cromwell's brilliant strategy.

Finally, this week we were thoroughly introduced to Princess Mary after last week's single scene with Thomas Boleyn. As a blow upon a bruise, she is forced to become a Lady-in-Waiting for her half-sister, Elizabeth and so she refuses to recognize Anne as anything but her father's mistress. I like the character, but I'm hoping that they aren't trying to portray her in such a way as to suggest that her short, yet incredibly violent reign as Queen years later was nothing more than unresolved daddy issues. I'd like to think that "Bloody" Mary was a little more complex than your average hipster in the East Village.

And they say that women are fickle! I suppose Henry has just gotta have it, so to speak. Never mind that he's wondering why the people don't love his new Queen when he so obviously doesn't any more, but he's back into blondes? The brunettes on this show don't get much luck. First, Katherine doesn't get alimony and then Anne gets a stare of such cold fury that had I been one of her Ladies, I'd have told her to start packing her bags right then and there. Of course there's also Lady Mary, who is in some respects in a worse situation than Anne. She's forbidden to communicate with her mother, her father wants nothing to do with her, and the Queen's father is making veiled threats against her. My advice to all three? Get yourselves to a salon and don't skimp on the peroxide!

All joking aside, Anne is in a bad situation. She lacks the full support of the public and the clergy, and is losing favor with Henry. Yes, newly appointed Archbishop Cranmer gave his blessing to the marriage, but it was simply a good career move for him, and the rest of the clergy in England are still torn between submitting themselves whole-heartedly to the King to stay alive, or clandestinely plotting against him on behalf of Rome. I highly doubt that any of them care at this point what happens to Her Majesty. Plus, now that they're married and he was Head of the Church of England, Anne doesn't have much influence with Henry. Her family got what they wanted, and once you're at the top, there's nowhere to go but down. Baby Elizabeth doesn't portend good things for the Boleyns.

Let's take a look, for a moment, at Anne's coronation. The Archbishop of Canterbury still did the ceremony in Latin, but when the time came to crown the Queen, Henry took over (and finished it all up in English, no less). Whether this all actually happened, or whether they stole the idea from Napoleon Bonaparte's coronation several hundred years down the line, it has severe and obvious symbolism. Despite the fact that Cranmer was hand-picked for the position of Archbishop due to his support of Henry and his Lutheran leanings, Henry decided to (very) publicly declare that he is above the Church by saying that only he has the power to crown royalty. If, as he believed, royalty are chosen by God and answer only to Him, and not to the Pope, he is placing himself as de facto spiritual and physical leader of the entire Kingdom, answerable to no one. The bill put forth by Cranmer (and later approved), affirms this by saying that the final appeals on all matters are to the King. We would probably consider this an act of totalitarianism, but that political concept didn't exist in the 16th century.

As More points out, this act has repercussions that stretch beyond Henry's simply wanting an annulment. Katherine now has zero legal recourse, as she is basically a well-off prisoner in England whose final appeal has been denied. As Henry has unilaterally decided to break away from Rome, (which supports her),whether she leaves England or not, she has no real influence and cannot win him back by any means. While she remains in England, he has ultimate control over anything she does, which means she can do nothing. While Henry really wants nothing to do with her, he can't let her go, or he'll lose the only physical leverage he has in his cold war with Rome.

All of this (not to mention William Brereton's failed assassination attempt on Anne) is spectacularly bad PR for the Pope. On the other hand, it's great for Peter O'Toole and his delightfully arch and dismissive portrayal of said Pope. Even if he were reading the menu at The Olive Garden, I'd be listening because he just has one of those amazing, trained British voices.

'Til next Sunday, and may your week be better than those of the poor Queens of England.

Welcome to second season blog for The Tudors: The show that portrays the dangers, intrigues and machinations that came with living in a time before the existence of indoor plumbing (and thus cold showers).

Before diving into this week's episode, here's the shortest possible, and admittedly, most superficial recap of what happened in the season opener: Henry still couldn't get the Church to grant him a divorce from Katherine and so started proceedings to break away from the Pope by appointing himself Head of the Church of England. Thomas Boleyn convinced a cook to poison Bishop Fisher — a plan which the Bishop survived, but which the cook, alas, did not. Anne convinced Henry to banish Katherine, but also found herself fending off new advances from her ex, Thomas Wyatt, while unknowingly becoming the focus of an assassination plan by the Spanish ambassador and a shadowy figure.

This week, that shadowy figure left Anne some clues about her future (a future that is, if not immediate, then not exactly far off) by leaving her a playing card of herself with her head cut off. He's obviously close to the King, as he told Chapuys that he'd be going to France for the treaty negotiations, and based on the way Charles Brandon has been acting this season, my money is on him (though before you threaten to behead me, it's really just a guess). His influence with Henry has been waning ever since the imprisonment and death of Wolsey, and though he doesn't seem to have an issue with Henry wanting a divorce, he certainly has an issue with Anne and her entire family, and he was even banished from the Court at her suggestion.

For her part, Anne isn't quite doing her best to win over the multitudes. Last season she was her father's unhappy accomplice in social climbing who eventually seemed to fall for the King, and now she's basically just a scheming sexpot (a sexpot with one of the unsexiest come-on lines ever: "Let me conceive"). Natalie Dormer seems to be having the time of her life portraying the Queen-to-be, and it's certainly conceivable that the ever-closer prospect of power has altered Anne's priorities. However, she has a past that she's only hinted at through her conversations with King Francis and her sister Mary, and it seems to me that on this show, if a friend tells you they won't betray you, it often means that they already have.

It was bad publicity for Anne when the friar spoke against her during mass, but compared to the Catholic Church in England, she was having the best week ever. When Henry demanded that the clergy submit to him (and not the Pope), his old friend and mentor, Sir Thomas More, decided to resign as Chancellor. He did, however, throw up one last-ditch effort to convince Henry not to divorce Katherine, though he promised never to speak of the matter publicly — a promise that Henry then threatened to keep him to. Sir Thomas ended up asking his daughter for her support in his becoming a martyr, so I'm guessing that he's planning on breaking that promise. This whole situation begs the question of whether it is even possible to support the Church and not support Katherine, when she is supported by the Pope. In this regard, More, whose personal feelings for Katherine's situation are linked to the preservation of Catholicism in England would seem to be the polar opposite of Cromwell (one of the most beguiling characters — worthy of serious discussion in a later recap), who obviously cares little for Anne, except as a means to an end in reforming the Church.

I hope we haven't seen the last of Maria Doyle Kennedy's Katherine. She and Anne are such strong characters, and such a nice balance to the weak-willed mistresses that we see so much of on the Court (seriously, a poem is all it takes to convince you not to be a nun Miss Elizabeth?), that it would be a shame to lose her. This show plays pretty fast and loose with the history anyway, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to bring her back.

FYI: While Showtime will be making new episodes available for viewing on demand the Monday before they air, I will still be posting the recaps on Sundays to coincide with the official first presentations.

Until next week, Your Graces.

For clips and full episodes of The Tudors, check out our Online Video Guide.