The Tudors: Season Four, Episode 10

"You won't die. I forbid it!"

This is it, then. The end. It's a heavy weight to bear, but we get a worthy finale in the end. Of course, the fact that we end with Henry VIII's death gives rise to the question of why the series is called The Tudors, a title that seems to promise us Bloody Mary and Good Queen Bess. But no matter. This is good stuff.

Henry is dying. The series is ending with him, so how best to end than with a warrant with the arrest for heresy of yet another Queen? Catherine Parr is intelligent, circumspect, and knows how to play the game, but she is in real danger here. There are signs of the next reign- Prince Edward is now old enough to speak some Latin, and Edward Seymour is a powerful man indeed- but Bishop Gardiner, for obvious reasons, prefers Mary. Whichever camp you look at, though, the vultures are circling the King.

The King is (finally!) much fatter. He`s quixotic, too, this time siding with the French against the Emperor, and proposing that mass be abolished (!) in both realms. He`s too late, though; Francis I is dying of syphilis. He still has power within his own houehold, though, and there is a sense of real danger as Henry tells Catherine that he knows nothing of any warrant for her arrest; is he playing his old games?

The Queen is, rightfully, scared, and determined to hide her thoughts. There is a power struggle at court between Gardiner and Edward Seymour and she, unlike the old, happily weary and sick of politics Duke of Suffolk, cannot simply remain neutral, confident of the King`s affection.

There is move and counter-move. Gardiner sets up an Inquisition; the Seymours use Gardiner`s embezzling ways to blackmail him. The Queen, questioned by Henry, gives a fiery defence of herself, and we know that the King wants to believe her. He hasn`t exactly gone soft in his old age, but even if you didn`t know the famous rhyme I think you`d know, by the rules of drama, that Catherine was utimately safe.

 

There is great uncertainty. Prince Edward`s education, a matter of vital importance to the kingdom`s future, finally comes under scrutiny as Gardiner begins to notice the religious inclinations of his tutors. The struggle between Gardiner and Edward Seymour soon leads to fisticuffs, and an extraordinary tour de force of acting from the great Simon Ward. His fall is brutally sudden; in the end, Henry sides with his Queen and the uncle of his son. Family trumps religious fanaticism in the end, ironically. But then, for this King, both of those things were always just playthings in his power games.

The dying Henry, like Canute, is not omnipotent and is powerless aainst the ravages of time and natue; he commands Charles Brandon not to die, but must nevertheless mourn his old friend, the only honest man at court. In scenes which must surely be meant to evoke I, Clavdivs he sees visions of his past wives making cameo appearances to rebuke him. Catherine of Aragon is furious at him for failing to marry off Mary, Anne Boleyn reminds him of Elizabeth`s cleverness and her own innocence ("Poor Catherine Howard!"), and Jane Seymour tells him sternly that he has killed Edward with his mollycoddling. There will be but one generation more of Tudors; the future of Henry`s realm lies not with the fruit of his loins.

Henry, at his own insistence, dies alone. Death creeps up slowly, and when he`s young again we know he`s dead. We end with an emotional montage, that Hans Holbein portrait, and some text to give us a potted history of the next three reigns. It's a fitting end to a magnificent series, the I, Clavdivs of our age.

The Tudors: Season Two, Episode 7

"Now I am indeed Queen!"

No pre-titles sequence. That's weird. And then we get a dream sequence for Queen Anne that is even weirder; she ends up in a cage and set on fire in some bizarre Celtic ceremony, Wicker Man style. It's not hard to see what it symbolises, or what it presages. Still, she's not for the chop quite yet. What's impressive, though, is the parallel with last season, and Wolsey; we know where this is going, but this time the events are gripping, and it doesn't feel as though we're treading water.

In other news, the King needs money, so the monasteries are for the chop. Cromwell and the other Protestants at court are quite happy with the king just pocketing the proceeds, despite the fact that this is blatant corruption and thoroughly irreligious. Then again, truly pious characters in The Tudors are hard to find, especially with More gone and Catherine on her way out. 

Meanwhile, the King and Queen are not getting on, and Anne despairs of her future while Catherine and Mary still live. But Henry dismisses her opinions, dreams of an alliance with the Habsburg Empire, and warns her to keep her pretty little head out of politics. There is quite a contrast with Cranmer and his sadly unnamed (?) German Protestant missus who, to her husband's (and Cromwell's) admiration, is sounding very radical and, indeed, proto-feminist. Good on her.

The King, to great awkwardness, rudely brings Anne's party to a halt, ordering Mark Smeaton to play the violin for him. The scenes of Henry dancing with Anne that follow are juxtaposed with scenes of very rough sex between them, after which Henry cums hard. This nicely structured sequence tells us much about their relationship.

It's at this point, wisely and cunningly, that Anne chooses to tell Henry that she's desperate to conceive again, but can't while Catherine and Mary are alive. Henry is shocked, but too sex-brained to bite her head off.

Meanwhile, the inevitable contrasting scenes in the Vatican see Peter O'Toole's splendid Clement VII making sure that his son(!) will become a future cardinal, and the creation of the Sistine Chapel is directly contrasted with what is happening to the monasteries in England. Thematic contrast, as much as narrative, is the point of these Vatican scenes.

Henry, hunting with his good mate Charles Brandon, ends up staying at the house of a stereotypical local squire, Sir John Seymour, with whom he reminisces about the Battle of Spurs, a personal highlight of Henry's young and carefree days. Thus are we introduced to one Jane Seymour.

Catherine of Aragon finally snuffs it, tragically without seeing her beloved Mary for four years, except in an hallucination. And Anne has a right go at Cromwell over the dissolution of the monasteries and the baby being thrown out with the bathwater. Indeed, she goes as far as to threaten to have him "chopped at the neck". Interesting to ponder the eventual fates of them both...

Time passes. Thomas Wyatt finds his bit on the side, Catherine's lady in waiting, hanged in an obvious suicide; this is a perfect if devastating illustration of how he is far too flippant for this harsh world. In other news, Sir John Seymour is a regular fixture at court for some reason...

We end with Henry being a good dad to Elizabeth when he wants to be, the Boleyns falling out over Cromwell, and Anne telling Henry that she's pregnant with a son. So everything's all right then...

The Tudors: Season Two, Episode 5

"Mr Cromwell, there really is no difference between us... except that I shall die today, and you shall die tomorrow."

Spoiler: Sir Thomas More dies at the end. Sorry about that.

Everyone at court is all a-flutter about the oath they have to swear, on pain of death, recognising the king's marriage and his religious supremacy. There then follows an episode that examines the concept of integrity under such extreme circumstances: will people stick to their principles if it means a tortuous death? It is still moral to stick to one's principles if, like More, one knows that it will lead to penury for one's entire family? We know not, for we enjoy such things as freedom if speech and freedom of religion. This episode examines the choices open to those who do not enjoy such things. Oh, and More cops it.

Henry will not be moved; More must swear, as has the rest of his family, no doubt under protest, or suffer death by hanging and disembowellment. The scenes between More and his wife, with moral blackmail on both sides, are difficult viewing.

The King's mood is not improved by Anne's miscarriage, Both Catherine of Aragon and Chapuys are left to wonder what will become of them as they, of course, refuse to sign. Pope Clement VII, meanwhile, remains the cynical political operator, who can see the public relations benefits of Bishop Fisher's forthcoming martyrdom, an excellent touch and a welcome bit of black humour.

Power, meanwhile, accrues to Cromwell more and more. Anne is also coming to enjoy the dizzy heights of monarchical power, but is forgetting where she came from, conniving with her father in disowning her pregnant sister Mary Boleyn for the terrible crime of marrying a commoner. Hubris can be terribly unjust.

She should, perhaps, think on the precariousness of her position. We have just seen the king shagging a random woman, and the King could change his mind in a heartbeat, disinheriting Elizabeth in favour of Mary. All live at the harsh caprice of their king.

Fisher's graphic be heading is all the more affecting because of his frankly admitted fear; the bishop has a wobble of faith at the moment of his martyrdom, which is both horrible and deeply ironic. 

The Pope is, as it happens, furious about Fisher's killing. He is more tolerant of Michelangelo's constant swearing, for "We forgive him because he is a genius." There can never be too much praise for the late and much lamented Peter O'Toole.

Henry, self-indulgent and spoiled as only a king can be, feels both guilt and resentment towards More, who has the effrontery to prick the conscience of a King. He reacts childishly, of course, cruelly depriving More of books for his last few days. 

More is, however, magnificent at his show trial, and his condemnation brings forth a sense of joyful freedom; the worst is now happening anyway, and he can now speak his mind and damn the already decided consequences. The king is, at least, kind enough to commute his sentence from hanging, drawing and quartering to the rather less tortuous beheading.

More, respected by the crowd and begged for forgiveness by his own executioner, faces his death with a simple dignity and grace, and we must force ourselves to remember that he, too, persecuted and murdered innocents for their faith. Henry, meanwhile, screams and screams like the petulant little boy he is.

The Tudors: Season Two, Episode 4

"I will recognise no Queen but my mother!"

Events are still fluid and volatile after last episode's violent severing of England's links with Rome, and Henry's court has never seemed a more dangerous place, especially for the former Queen's Catholic supporters. Mary is the most humiliated, forced to wait on her little half-sister Elizabeth and then sleep in humble lodgings, but all those who supported the old faith fear a purge of some sort. And there will be no help from Charles V, who is busily warring with the Habsburgs' perennial enemy, the Ottomans. 

Anne is not happy either; on her father's advice she swiftly gets rid of the king's mistress by framing her for theft, and chooses a mistress of her own choosing whom she can manipulate, who is both a cousin and a good Protestant. This is the reality that early modern kings and queens lived with. Meanwhile, the king pays a visit to Elizabeth but ignores Mary, who watches from a window.

The purge finally arrives, as Cromwell drafts a law forcing all subjects to swear an path recognising both Henry's marriage and his supremacy over the Church. The Pope sees the danger for Fisher, who is swiftly and futilely made a cardinal for his protection. Cromwell then twists the knife by advising the king to dissolve all of the monasteries which refuse to abide by the oath and he agrees, entirely uninfluenced, I'm sure, by the oodles of cash that promise to head his way. As for Fisher, he is sentenced to death for treason. The spotlight now turns to Sir Thomas More; will he swear the oath?

Mary doesn't swear the oath, but she is too royal to die; instead she is forever banished from court. As for More, he tries dissembling, as will many other Catholics facing difficult questions on pain of death during Elizabeth's reign. This eventually fails, and he is left facing the inevitable, without much dignity. But we should perhaps not feel too much sympathy for him; he himself had people burned at the stake for "heresy". However sincere his beliefs, he was a serial killer.

We end with More imprisoned directly above the cell of the condemned Bishop Fisher, looking out if the window to a CGI London landscape and a world wider than the cell he will inhabit for most if the rest if his shirt life...

The Tudors: Season Two, Episode 3

"What harm can a nobody inflict on our Holy Church?"

This is a big, big episode. The fact that this is the break with Rome is signalled by Peter O'Toole's promotion to the credits, and we start with a bang. There's a duel over Anne. The two sides are entrenched. It's all very serious except for Thomas Wyatt who, despite his promotion to the Privy Council, takes nothing seriously.

Catholicism in England is clearly in retreat, with the King promoting arch-Lutheran Thomas Cranmer to the See of Canterbury, but Pope Clement VII remains airily complacent. But soon a surprised Cromwell is appointed Lord Chancellor and, most significantly of all, Henry and Anne are finally married. After all that build-up it's almost an anticlimax.

Catherine is utterly humiliated. But Brandon, it seems, is getting close to her, and siding more firmly with More and Fisher. The English Reformation finally takes off as even this Pope takes steps to excommunicate Henry and he finally breaks with Rome. Cranmer says he's legally married, like a good little lackey (albeit, like Cromwell, one with an agenda), and that's all that matters.

In other subplots, Wyatt carries on a casual affair with one of Catherine's maids. King Francis, quelle surprise, breaks his promises. The Jesuit order is founded. And Anne is pregnant, to excitement all round.

The build-up to Anne's coronation as queen consort leads to an attempted assassination- the people still like the old Queen and the old religion. Fisher and More, who sadly notes that his once-close friendship with Henry is over, snub the ceremony. Anne, as Queen, establishes uber-Protestantism in her household, giving them all a copy of Tyndale's Bible, which is still technically illegal.

One feels most sorry for Mary, no longer a princess and forbidden from all contact with her mother. But this does not quite feel like a total victory for Protestantism in England. For one thing, we get a shot of the King and the new Queen in bed, shot from above, he half-naked and her fully clothed and turned away from him. It seems their relationship, following marriage and pregnancy, may be losing it's ardour. And, given the context, this could potentially have huge political and religious ramifications.

Anne finally gives birth, and it's a girl, and future Virgin Queen. Henry hides his disappointment, but summons a Lady Eleanor to his chamber for sex. Is he beginning to lose his desires for the woman he wanted so desperately for so long? It looks more and more desperately vital that she gives him a male heir, and soon.

The Tudors: Season Two, Episode 1

"The time for Harry is over!"

It's a new season, but everything is in media res. the king's "Great Matter" is hanging over everything and there is much tension. It's now 1532, and we are still living in a very Catholic England. Things have changed, of course, such as the King's facial hair and Peter O'Toole as a splendidly cynical new Pope, but the only issue in town is the King's divorce. 

Behring the scenes, though, Anne Boleyn has increasingly been feeding ever more radically Protestant ideas to the king, ideas which happen to align rather well with his personal desires. On the other hand, Sir Thomas More is more and more outspoken in support of the established church and the Queen. Aligned with him is Bishop Fisher, who also sees any potential break with Rome as heresy.

There has been much commotion in Rome, with the papacy pushed and pulled between Francis I and Charles V, and realpolitik is the order if the day. Charles V remains omnipotent, and Henry is never going to be allowed to divorce his Aunt Catherine by any Pope.

We have new characters- Anne's ambitions and intelligent brother George Boleyn, a coming man; shy and nervous Thomas Cranmer, a Lutheran protege of Cromwell and suddenly the king's personal chaplain; and Mark Smeaton, a good looking violinist and simpleton at court amongst the wolves.

Other marriages are less weighty than the matter of the king's; he is much amused by Charles Brandon marrying his seventeen year old ward, which everyone seems to think is perfectly fine. More seriously, Thomas Wyatt is risking his neck by shagging Anne Boleyn, and Smeaton is playing with fire by publicly flirting with her. 

The atmosphere at court takes a turn for the worse with the attempted poisoning of the court Carholics, and it never really recovers; court is a dangerous place, where one risks random execution for a whiff of power. A lowly cook is arrested, tortured by Cromwell, and killed by being boiled alive, but the crime was masterminded by Thomas Boleyn, who is never implicated. 

There is tension everywhere- between the Queen and Anne Boleyn over who makes the King's shirts; between Henry and More, as the old friends realise they now have nothing in common; and between Henry and the recently evicted Catherine, where things are getting particularly ugly; the King even duffs up the Queen's messenger.

Even more alarmingly, Ambassador Chapuys takes up the Pope's suggestion and hires an assassin to kill Anne Boleyn. Things are slowly getting more and more tense...

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 10

"How many have you burned, Thomas?"

"Six."

And so the season ends, with a dramatic if historically inaccurate end for Wolsey and with harbingers of the massive religious strife that lies ahead in the next season. 

We start with the sexually frustrated King, ahem, masturbating, which is quite a contrast with the long subsequent council meeting scene in which we see him actually, er, kinging. There is a lot of talk, especially from the Duke of Norfolk, about Wolsey, and what he may be up to in York. After all, he may return to power and exact revenge against his persecutors; for the likes of Norfolk, Wolsey must die.

Ironically, while the psychopathic Sir Thomas More is busy torturing and murdering "heretics", the king, under Anbe Boleyn's and Cromwell's influence, is amongst their number. Very much drawn to ideas of kings being the supreme head of religious life in their realms, with no Papal involvement, he has an epiphany: "This book is a book for me, and for all kings!" This does not mean, as we will later learn, that the King will become a full-on Protestant. But it does, as we will later learn, mean that the kingdom will soon be turned upside down.

More is looking less and less sympathetic; the camera lingers on the burning of the "heretic" whom he has put to death. Things are not so simple as his being a tragic figure; we must not forget that his hands are steeped on blood.

The king makes a few more fruitless diplomatic gestures to the Pope and Charles V, but this is utterly pointless. Rumour abounds of an upcoming break with Rome. So it goes for everyone at court. 

There is also the more pragmatic matter of the kingdom's finances, however; as Henry angrily declares, Wolsey was, whatever else he may have been, a competent administrator, and the public finances are in the toilet now he's gone. Could there be a u-turn in the offing? Wolsey's enemies act quickly, led by Norfolk (now more openly Lutheran) and Cromwell, and Wolsey is finally charged with high treason. 

Things seem to be moving in a certain direction; Chapuys leaves court, disgusted at the Protestantism he sees on display there. There are scenes of Wolsey, praying in his cell, juxtaposed with Norfolk and other triumphant Protestants at court. It's a nice sequence of scenes, incorporating a play in which the Roman Catholic Church is mocked in ways which would have recently seemed unthinkable.

Wolsey's final prayer is moving, as he accepts that he will never see heaven. His suicide is not exactly the same as the massive probable stroke which history records, but then I suppose Sam Neill is not so morbidly obese as was the historical Cardinal. 

We end with a symbolic scene which points to the future; Henry and Anne, having sex in a forest. But Anne won't let him climax, and once again he flounces off in frustration...

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 9

"You have destroyed me!"

Events continue on their inevitable path and, for the first time in many episodes, stuff actually happens. Hallelujah.

The Queen is being tried for having apparently consummated her marriage with Arthur. Therefore, it is said, she is not the king's true wife and, having flounced off, she is said to be in contempt of court. She is dignified, defiant, and extremely popular with England 's splendidly bloody-minded people.

Wolsey remains desperate for the divorce to happen, but whatever he does Catherine will still be the daughter of Charles V, who controls the Pope. The Boleyn tribe certainly expect him to fall. And the king's mood is not much improved by a speech in which Catherine's friend Bishop Fisher compares him to Herod.

Wolsey had an interesting chat with Sir Thomas More; he realises that all depends on events on the continent, and is desperate to prevent peace between France and the Empire, something which horrifies the pious and idealistic More. Wolsey fears that Charles may go to war if Henry divorces his aunt.

Tempers are frayed all round, not least between Henry and Campeggio. Henry lectures the Papal Legate on Vatican corruption, and states that perhaps the Lutherans "have a point". This is, then, a rather odd moment for him to be shown composing "Greensleeves"!

Even the trial is a washout: it is all postponed for a final decision at Rome, and has thus been a massive waste of time. Worse than that: it has all been ultimately directed by the Emperor. Relations between Henry and the Papacy are at a low ebb, so much so that Anne Boleyn is able to speak Protestantism to the King, and even gets him to read a book.

Princess Margaret, meanwhile, is sick and dying, and scenes of her on her deathbed are nicely juxtaposed with her husband Brandon shagging another woman. So it goes in the Tudor court. The king is rather displeased at his neglect.

Other news is not good. Charles V sends another Spanish ambassador, Chapuys, who wastes no time in getting pally with the Queen. And peace is finally made between France, the Empire and the Pope. Little England, naturally, is sidelined. There will be no divorce.

This is it for Wolsey, who is made to suffer a thousand small humiliations as he is slowly frozen out. He is dismissed, disgraced, and demoted to Bishop of York. At least he's alive. For now.

We end with Henry appointing his new Lord Chancellor to replace Wolsey- Sir Thomas More, against his consent. Henry assures him that his disagreement with the King over his divorce will not be a problem, but this cannot possibly end well...

At last, some movement. But the second half of this series has been agonisingly slow.

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 8

"God has given me gout as a great trial."

The status quo is as it has been for several episodes, but at least, unlike last episode, stuff happens this time. There is a papal legate, Cardinal Campeggio, who us to finally rule on the king's "great matter". There is no doubt as to the outcome, but at least there is potential for drama.

Wolsey has, unwisely, made assurances to Henry, and is increasingly desperate. He attempts to pressure Campeggio with the risk of England turning Protestant, but it is to no avail. Henry is told, humiliatingly, that until a decision is made he must return to Catherine, for appearances. Ouch.

Henry tries to pressure Catherine to go to  a nunnery, a typical example of the gender double standards at work; unwanted women are expected to go into a convent while the men shag whom they please. Unsurprisingly, the Queen is not keen.

The Reformation is moving into the foreground as Thomas Cromwell makes links with Anne Boleyn while Catherine entrenches her position in confession to Cardinal Campeggio; she insists that she never had any carnal knowledge of the King's late brother Arthur. She will neither go to a convent or divorce Henry.

Elsewhere, pieces are being moved for the season finale. Charles Brandon is back at court with his new wife and failing marriage. Thomas Tallus is having what seems to be a serious relationship with a woman. 

The Queen is rapidly becoming persona non grata at court, but sticks to her guns.  And the King, inevitably, is turning against Wolsey, who has to fall to his knees and beg. There is no pleasant way that this can end. Cromwell is to go to Rome to make vague threats of independence, while Brandon is to investigate Wolsey's French sympathies. It's not looking good.

The Queen is getting chilly with a bishop called Miller; much of the Church supports her. But many don't, and Cromwell's report from his visit to Pope Clement is not positive. 

Wolsey is desperate, desperate enough to get violent with Campeggio. But we all know where this is heading, and because of that it's getting hard to pad out these last few episodes of the season until Wolsey's fall. The Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk and the Boleyns are all conspiring against him by now...

The Tudors, Season One, Episode 7

"And this ointment will comfort your cock if it is sore..."

So, we get a sweating sickness episode. In a sense, this is padding, a means of having the plot tread water for an episode to allow us to get to the end of the season before Wolsey's inevitable downfall. The facts remain the same: Henry wants a divorce. Catherine doesn't. Wolsey is under pressure to get said divorce. Catherine's uncle, Charles V, is the most powerful man in Europe, has Pope Clement by the balls and will never allow said divorce. Irresistible force, meet immovable object.

Wolsey's mates, the French, are at war with said Habsburg dominions, and they and the Genoese besiege the Emperor in Naples. Henry sends a diplomat to Pope Clement, but nothing of substance happens. A papal legate is on his way, but nothing has changed, or will change.

Still, it's interesting seeing the main cast succumb to the plague, one by one. Only Sir William Compton dies (Thomas Tallis observes discreetly), but Henry, Anne Boleyn and Wolsey all survive. Henry's state of mind is much affected, however: why is God punishing his kingdom thus? He still refuses to sleep with Anne in his stubborn piety.

There is, of course, a bit of "Bring out your dead". Which inevitably recalls Monty Python and the Holy Grail. There are hints of the future as Sir Thomas More angrily denounces Lutheranism as a "disease", which has ignited civil war in Germany. But this is, for the first time, an episode in which not enough happens.

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 6

"You don't like the French very much, do you, Mr More?"

"I don't mind them, Mr Wyatt. It's just that they're so very, very French."

This episode we get to see the French court, which, as the cliche goes, is much more fun than the English one. There is more geopolitics, in which Henry is again shown to be king only of a middling power, nothing compared to France and the many realms of Charles V.  The clutching at the small straw offered by Pope Clement's escape from the Emperor is pathetic to see, although at least the ambitious Thomas Cromwell gets a chance to ingratiate himself with the King.

Possibly the most horrifying thing here is the sight of Anne reading her love letters from Henry to her father and uncle; as an aristocratic woman she is nothing but a commodity, pimped out by her male relatives. She is a sympathetic character, only beginning to learn the cynicism that will eventually lead to her tragic and awful death; for now the most awful thing is an unpleasant clash with Catherine of Aragon.

Wolsey is off to France, his favourite place, for a spot of doomed diplomacy, and Thomas Wyatt goes with him. Unfortunately Catherine, in cahoots with her bezzie mate the Spanish ambassador, has diplomatic aims of her own; there will be no divorce, however hard Wolsey tries and however much his future, and probably his life, depends on it. Life isn't fair in an early modern autocracy.

There's a parting between lovebirds Sir William Compton, who was serious, and Thomas Tallis, who just wanted sex. But we must forgive Tallis, for he's a genius, and to France he must go. Diplomacy goes through the motions; Mary gets another pie-in-the-sky betrothal, this time to the Duc d'Orleans, but it doesn't feel very substantial, just like Wolsey's desperate plan to set up a conclave on Henry's divorce in the absence of the Pope.

The whole theme of the episode is summarised, beautifully, by Thomas Wyatt's poem, They Flee from Me, about his fling with Anne Boleyn, yes, but also the attractions and extreme dangers of court, with a predatory Henry at the top of the food chain and getting hungrier and hungrier. The future for courtiers can be bleak, and Wolsey is looking increasingly doomed, especially with the Boleyn menfolk poisoning Henry's mind against him; he's been embezzling money, like pretty much anyone in this period of history.

Henry and Brandon eventually reconcile in the most laddish manner possible but, while Brandon is guileless and straightforward, he cannot remain untainted by the moral compromises necessitated by his closeness to power. He may not be burned by the son, but the episode ends with Wolsey, having failed, looking desperate, alone, and in fear of his life.

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 5

"I have yet to decide whether to make your bedmate a head shorter...!"

Things don't go very well for Henry in this episode, meaning he's in a bit of a mood and others are therefore in peril. The Boleyns are in the ascendant- Sir Thomas Boleyn is ennobled and Anne Boleyn is made the King's official mistress. This doesn't mean she's getting any, however; Henry refuses to shag her until he's divorced Catherine and married her. So Wolsey, whose responsibility this seems to be, had better get that divorce. Or else.

Of course, getting said divorce requires the cooperation of Charles V who a) has the Pope by the short and curlies and b) is inordinately fond of his Aunt Catherine. Worse, he seems rather dismissive of Henry, releasing France's King Francis without even thinking to notify his supposed bezzie mate Harry and, worse, marrying his son to a Portuguese princess instead of Mary. It must be somewhat emasculating for an autocrat to be reminded of his less-than-alpha-male status on the European stage.

Still, he may not have an heir but at least he has his toy sword-wielding (aaah!) little Fitzroy to remind everyone that he is definitely all manly and virile and so forth. The Queen doesn't quite feel the same, and her own position is looking perilous; Mary is to be sent away from her, and Catherine's good friend the Spanish ambassador receives a bollocking from Henry. It's all gone very wrong, a line has been crossed and if Henry doesn't get that divorce then heads will roll. Except he won't.

Meanwhile, our new Duke of Suffolk may not have particularly offended the new King of Portugal in marrying his Tudor stepmother, but Henry is furious and has a potentially homicidal falling out with his friend. Elsewhere at court, a young Thomas Tallis is getting some cock.

Henry, however, officially confirms Anne Boleyn as his official mistress, a title which reminds us of the fundamental decadence of monarchical power. He will not, however, shag her until they marry. This is going to lead to a lot of sexual frustration for Henry, which will probably cause a fair few deaths.

The real meat of the episode, though, comes in the clash of principles between Wolsey, he of the realpolitik, who seeks to get the King his divorce, and More, who suddenly seems less progressive. The humanist is quickly becoming yesterday's man, and there is much friction. Wolsey, of course, is far more interested in manipulating the King into an alliance with the French.

It all goes horribly wrong at the end, as our little Fitzroy dies of that most Tudor of ailments, the sweating sickness, and the 1525 sack of Rome by Charles V happens right on cue. However autocratic Henry may be in his own kingdom, he is at the mercy of greater forces.

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 4

"I married my brother's wife, and God has punished me."

There's a lot going on here; Margaret's first shag with her elderly and moribund new husband takes place surrounded by bishops and prelates and whatnot: the best bit is "Did His Majesty...?" followed by clapping...! Henry becomes steadily more besotted with Anne Boleyn and more alienated from the Queen. And Wolsey promotes a talented young man (and fellow commoner) called Thomas Cromwell, about which there is no irony whatsoever.

(Incidentally, fact fans, the stuff between Margaret and the elderly King of Portugal really happened, sort of, except it was to Henry's real life sister Mary, in 1515, with Louis XII of France; our old friend artistic licence strikes again.)

There is also much intrigue on the European stage; Francis of France is now the prisoner of the Emperor Charles, following fighting near Milan, as if he wasn't powerful enough already. Earlier in the episode he had requested English financial support (meaning taxes, meaning Parliament), and an alliance between Henry and the Emperor is popular; both rulers are good Catholic and Charles is, after all, not French.

And yet... Charles is the nephew of Catherine of Aragon, a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. Charles has the Pope by the balls, and is the reason he will never be granted a divorce. Even if it were not for the power imbalance, the two of them could never be friends in the long term. Anne Boleyn may be playing hard to get, returning the king's gifts, but he has a wandering eye. And, following an unfortunate jousting accident which he barely survives in spite of the efforts of 16th century medicine , his near-death experience makes him realises that, should he die now, he would do so without a son. He's had too much of pleasure; now he plans to be serious. Yeah, right. Oh, and this is not good news for Catherine.

Still, at least he's a good Catholic, right? After all, the Pope has given him the title of "Defender of the Faith."

Wolsey, meanwhile, cheerfully appoints himself Bishop of Winchester and carries on embezzling loads of moolah, failing to comprehend how the Boleyn tribe has it in for him. The King, it seems, is a fan of Thomas Wyatt's poetry. And, still on the subject of art, one Thomas Tallis turns down a threesome with three luscious babes because "music means more". Hmm.

Catherine of Aragon has a letter for the Emperor; I think the battle lines are drawn in what will become the divorce saga. Charles Brandon, in shagging Margaret, is technically committing capital treason against the kings of both England and Portugal. The King knights his mates, William Compton and Anthony Knivert. And we learn that Cromwell is a secret Protestant. Well I never.

We end with Henry instructing Wolsey to get him a divorce. I'm sure that will go down well...

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 3

"That will make me happy."

"It will also make you King of France..."

Occasionally history must be changed or distorted to keep a coherent structure to the drama, and Henry's sister Margaret, a composite of two of his real life sisters, is one of these. Here, she is married off to an elderly and distinctly unsexy King of Portugal, whereas, in reality, one of Henry's sisters married a King of France in similar circumstances, but this happened years before the series started. It therefore follows from this that Brandon's being tasked to follow her to Portugal, his being made Duke of Suffolk, and his illicitly marrying the king's sister and getting a ticking off, didn't happen exactly like that. But they're the sort of thing that did. And I don't criticise Michael Hirst for doing this sort of thing to knock out a structure for the season. Let's just go with it.

Meanwhile, the Imperial ambassadors and Sir Thomas More discuss that nasty man, the heretic Luther, who is, we're told, a thoroughly bad sort. Henry thinks so, too, and he's written a pamphlet to prove it, in his own hand, no less. He's such a good little Catholic. For now.

Plans are aoace for Mary to marry the son of Charles V, much to the chagrin of Cardinal Wolsey. And Sir Thomas Boleyn, splendid father that he is, continues his plotting to pimp out his daughter Annecto the King. That's what I love about The Tudors and, indeed, the Tudors; there's just so much skulduggery.

We get to meet the young Charles V, who is awfully keen on doing something about France's occupation of the Duchy of Milan. The Emperor's other job is, of course, King of Spain (well, one of his other jobs, the moonlighting little scamp...), and the ambassadors of said Kingdom are making themselves extremely popular with his Auntie Cathetinez, who just so happens to be the Queen of England. It's complicated. Such was Sixteenth Century Europe.

Henry, meanwhile, wants more ships for his navy, lots of them. He's not parsimonious like his Dad; he wants to spend, spend, spend. He also wants Anne Boleyn, who is to become, er, one of the Queen's Ladies in Waiting. Awkward. Anne, meanwhile, seems to be shagging the poet Thomas Wyatt. I'm fairly sure that last bit is artistic licence but, again, it works.

Charles V gets on awfully well with Henry, and seems to be a very similar character: power obsessed and an expert in the dark arts of early modern international politics. Yet he paints on a larger canvas than Henry, King of little England, speaking of the Americas, and the "treasures of Montezuma" unlike with Francis I lady episode, the position on alpha male isn't up for grabs. It's Charles.

And here we come to the point; if Henry should ever wish to divorce Catherine, a purely hypothetical situation at least, then there is no way that her loyal nephew Charles would allow it. There's a moral here, and one with relevance to politics today: England's fate is bound up with Europe. We must be at the heart of it, or we will have no say in it.

We end with more plotting: Sir Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk seem to have it in for Wolsey...

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 2

"I have a son!"

The Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520, in land belonging to English Calais (writing those last two words felt weird), is often said to be the first time two European monarchs met for diplomatic purposes, and for that reason is often called the first international summit by those fond of meaningless sweeping statements. It's fascinating to see how the event is dealt with here, with Henry and Francis I circling each other warily but being outwardly nice to each other. Mary and the Dauphin, both toddlers, are betrothed, there is a pie from which birds fly out and there is much lechery, much of it from Charles Brandon, with much of it focusing on one Mary Boleyn. But, as Sir Thomas More warns Mary, King Henry has "noticed" her...

There is something of a rivalry for the position of alpha male between the two kings, in which their competition for Mary's favours is but one aspect. The fact that Francis wins the royal wrestling match, then, enrages Henry. But he calms down as he wants the treaty, this making him the supplicant.

There is what seems to be a slight historical inaccuracy regarding the nature of how Mary Boleyn used to pleasure King Francis at the French court. I would not be so indelicate as to what it is, but I would perhaps point my readers to Christopher Hitchens' history of a certain sex act...

The treaty is signed, but Henry is none too pleased, particularly not with the suspiciously pro-French Cardinal Wolsey. But, back in CGI Whitehall, he finds himself being pleasured by Mary Boleyn. Thing is, there's also Charles V, only 20, who is yet another candidate for alpha male, and one with a far bigger, er, empire. It's enough to make a young King of England feel quite emasculated. Wolsey is ordered to treat with him at Aachen; our little Francophile won't like that.

Henry and Thomas More, bond over the treachery of the Duke of Buckingham and the education of their respective daughters, a rather progressive idea for the time- although not so progressive, of course, as to threaten Henry's power. They also discuss Machiavelli's The Prince, so different from More's Utopia (which I read back in Uni and of which I remember nothing) yet so appropriate to The Tudors. The King, naturally, is veering towards Macchiavelli, and hardening in his views. We are observing a change in character from the young, athletic, cheerful stud to the more cynical player of games of power.

Lady Blount, meanwhile, is well up the duff with her little Fitzroy and her husband, naturally, is paid off. This is proof of Henry's virility and manliness but, on the other hand, doesn't say much for the Queen's fertility.

Buckingham, meanwhile, is deep into plotting his treason and that, and receives the allegiance of his underlings. This can't end well. We see that Wolsey is worldly and More is not, interesting in the light of later events, and Christmas and New Year come and go. 

Buckingham, the lady gasp of the "old" aristocracy, is arrested by the King's "new men". He stands for the old, the mediaeval, a survivor of the old aristocracy that was much reduced in numbers in the Wars of the Roses. They are now gone, to be replaced by new families of social climbers, not least by a certain Welsh family known as the Ap Twdyrs. He must die, as did his father under Henry VII, and the scenes of his execution are nicely juxtaposed with scenes of the King going hunting.

Of course, it goes without saying, the Duke is beheaded, not hung, drawn and quartered. He's far too posh for that.

Wolsey's ambitions on the old Pope's death; he went to see Charles V, and thus will no longer have the French votes at the conclave. So it goes. His ambitions, as the King's soon will be, are shaped by events on the continent. If that isn't foreshadowing then I don't know what is.

Catherine, meanwhile, her fertility and raison d'être as begetter of heirs in doubt, is humiliated and alone as the King celebrates the birth of his bastard. There is a new air of unease as the sweating sickness- that most Tudor of illnesses- sweeps the land, and the newly  elected Pope offers more foreshadowing as he denounces the influence of "that heretic Luther"...

We end with a triptych of Machiavellian acts; Anne Boleyn is groomed by her father and uncle to become the king's lover, Henry gangs up with Charles V against Francis, and Henry sinisterly "persuades" Wolsey to give him the magnificent Hampton Court. The King has noticeably become darker and darker as the episode has progressed, and it won't end here...

The Tudors: Season One, Episode 1

"Be a pigeon and shit on everything!"

So, the first episode of a brand new series. Been a whole since that happened, hasn't it? In fact, I've actually watched all of The Tudors and made all my notes; the blog is in serious catch up mode at the mo. But fear not; all of the ongoing serieses (er...) will continue on to the end.

So, we have a 2007 series which, being an Irish/Canadian co-production, uses mostly actors for those two countries, a refreshing change from overly obvious casting. Although many of the best American actors are in fact Canadian, while many of the best British actors are in fact from the Irish a Republic, despite their stage-schooled RP accents, such as Michael Gambon and Peter O'Toole, of whom more in another season.

Anyway, in spite of the dynastic title, this is a series about the reign of Henry VIII only, beginning in 1520, on the eve of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. This cuts out Spurs, Flodden and, more to the point, the entire period during which Henry was far too young to be portrayed by the excellently menacing Jonathan Meyers, who convinces perfectly as a spoiled brat born to power.

The series begins, though, with the continental power games between Francis I's France and the Holy Roman and Spanish Empires of Charles V. This year' pawns are the city states of North-West Italy, and the ambassadors are all a kerfuffle. The English envoy has been killed, and possible war looms. Yet the king's chief advisor, the wily Cardinal Wolsey (the solid but somewhat miscast Sam Neill), seems suspiciously pro-French. He couldn't possibly be corrupt, n'est-ce pas?

Henry is, of course, thoroughly Catholic at this point, and happily married to Catherine of Aragon (a suitably self-pitying Maria Doyle Kennedy) as long as he can have his bits on the side and sire his little Fitzroys. And the future Bloody Mary is just a cute ickle girl. Catherine, of course, wants war with France. She is a Habsburg, after all, and cheering for Dad to gain yet more territory.

Yet Henry is not sleeping with her, which upsets her, not because of any apparent libido, but because of her supposed Christian duty as a wife and all that. The seeds are all there.

It's weird to see a thoroughly Catholic England, with all the trimmings, but that's how it was, with cardinals and everything. It's also weird to think that Europe, in 1520, was still a place of lances and jousts, although this would change as the decade wore on. One such jouster, the priapic Charles Brandon (Superman himself, the moderately wooden but pretty Henry Cavill) is a close friend of the King, and something of a semi-invented character. History must, after all, be shaped into drama-friendly form.

The King jousts against Yorkist plotter the Duke of Buckingham, whose accent is inexplicably northern. Being a dynastic rival the duke is, of course, somewhat akin to a turkey in mid-December. Rather safer, for now, is Thomas More, a sympathetic humanist, intellectual and friend of the King, who grounds him and symbolically calls him "Harry". The King agrees with his humanism although, of course, only as far as it suits him to do so.

That, then, is our dramatis personae. We can now move on to your actual Field of your actual Cloth of Gold, in English Calais, which is presented as a kind of proto-European Union, with "collective institutions" and that. How very anachronistic.

There is tension as the King fathers a Fitzroy but has no son with Catherine; is it because she was once married to his late brother Arthur...? I think this one might run and run.

Not long after this we first meet Mary and Anne Boleyn (the superlative Natalie Dormer), while the King and Wolsey share a wonderfully symbolic chess scene. Buckingham's eventual treason and death is somewhat inevitable; his father, of course, was the right hand Man of Richard III, as we well know from Shskespeare's play.

The pieces are set. How will the game play out...?