20 April 2015 A.D. NYT: “`Wolf Hall’ Recap: Thomas More Follows His Principles Straight to Torture Chamber”
20 April 2015 A.D. NYT: “`Wolf Hall’ Recap: Thomas More Follows His Principles
Straight to Torture Chamber”
Bayard, Louis. “‘Wolf Hall’ Recap: Thomas More Follows His Principles Straight to the
Torture Chamber.” New York Times. 19
Apr 2015. http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/04/19/wolf-hall-recap-thomas-more-follows-his-principles-straight-to-the-torture-chamber/.
Accessed 19 Apr 2015.
‘Wolf Hall’ Recap: Thomas More Follows His Principles Straight to the
Torture Chamber
Episode 3:
‘Anna Regina’
More, More, More …
how do you like him?
Do you prefer the
pained idealist of Robert Bolt’s “A Man for All Seasons,” marching toward
martyrdom with melancholy eyes and perfect diction? Or the creepy,
stringy-haired guy who intones Latin while, a few feet away, one of his
heretic-prisoners writhes in a nasty device called Skeffington’s Daughter?
That
scene of torture — the opening tableau of Episode 3 — gives us the clearest
possible sense of where Hilary Mantel stands in the ongoing debate
over Thomas More’s character.
In
her rendering More is not a saint but a fanatic, enslaved by an idea, and in
defense of an idea, human beings are ultimately expendable. When asked to
justify strapping the Tyndale follower James Bainham (Jonathan Aris) to the
rack, More answers that, to save the man’s soul, “I would have had him whipped,
I would have had him burned with irons, I would have had him hung by his
wrists.”
God,
in short, justifies all means. But which god? The god of More? The god of
Tyndale? Or the god of the Turks, invading infidels who are knocking on the
gates of Vienna and causing Western Europe to quake (not for the last time) at
the thought of Islamic aggression?
Bainham
may recant his beliefs under torture, but he reclaims them in dramatic fashion
by publicly reading from an English-language Bible. “I couldn’t live with what
I’d done,” he tells Cromwell (Mark Rylance). And here at last is a believer
that “Wolf Hall” can
live with — a man who sacrifices only himself.
Even
as his funeral pyre is being prepared, Bainham groans, “I cannot unbelieve what
I believe.”
Contrast that with
the steely pragmatism of Anne Boleyn (Claire Foy), who believes people should
say “whatever will keep them alive.” Or Cromwell himself, who may sympathize
with the Protestant reformers, but is frankly impatient with their methods —
and incredulous that Tyndale won’t take the expedient tactic of supporting
Henry’s divorce.
“You’d think he’d
bend a point of principle to make a friend of the King of England,” says
Cromwell. “But no. Tyndale and More, they deserve each other, these mules who
pose as men.”
In
Cromwell’s eyes, purity is no virtue, and flexibility no flaw. If anything,
elastic principles are the best and truest response to human complexity. Oh,
sure, he might “serve the Sultan if the price was right” (More’s phrase) but,
having made that choice, he would serve his prince all the more effectively for
knowing how the world works.
That’s
how he can see through the “prophetess” Elizabeth Barton (Aimée Ffion-Edwards)
to the network of corrupt priests and political players behind her. And when
Harry Percy (Harry Lloyd) has the temerity to lay a pre-existing marital claim
on Anne, Cromwell doesn’t “beat his skull in,” as Anne’s uncle, the Duke of
Norfolk (Bernard Hill), advises. He merely sets the young man straight with
this minor masterpiece of Realpolitik:
“The world is not run from where you think it is. From border fortresses,
even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from Lisbon.
From wherever the merchant ships set sail off into the west. Not from castle
walls but from counting houses. From the pens that scrape out your promissory
notes.
“So
believe me when I say that my banker friends and I will rip your life apart.
And then when you are without money and title, yes, I can picture you. Living
in a hovel, wearing homespun, bringing home a rabbit for the pot. Your lawful
wife Anne Boleyn skinning and jointing that rabbit. Yes, I wish you all
happiness.”
And
just in case Harry needs another nudge: “I will come and drag you out of
whatever hole you’re cowering in, and the Duke of Norfolk will bite your
bollocks off. I do hope that’s clear, my lord.”
It
is indeed clear. And what better way to seal off the threat than with that
ironic and deeply unfelt “my lord”? Times have changed, and the “son of an
honest blacksmith,” to use Henry’s romanticized phrase, is now giving marching
orders to landed gentry. Cromwell, says Queen Katherine (Joanne Whalley), “used
to be a moneylender. Now he writes all the rules.”
But
he can do that only so long as the King allows it. Herewith the cost of putting
your faith in men: They turn on you. One man in particular. “Everything that
you are,” crows Henry (Damian Lewis), in an unconscious echo of Wolsey’s words,
“everything that you have will come from me.”
As
if to dramatize the peril of that position, Anna Regina, in the course of being
crowned, prostrates herself on the cathedral floor, with her neck exposed and
her arms outstretched — a Christ-like pose that uncannily prefigures her ultimate
end. In this moment, she has achieved all she ever wanted, and she has never
been more vulnerable — to fate, to genes, to a monarch’s whims. With a chill,
we recall Henry’s romantic conceit: “I hunt only one hind.” He has captured her
now, and his mercy is all she has to depend upon.
Fraught symbol.
In
Calais, Edward Seymour (Ed Speleers) unwisely plays chess with Cromwell and
quickly finds his queen captured. “How did you do that?” Jane, his sister, may
soon have cause to ask the same question.
Best line.
Mary
Boleyn (Charity Wakefield) reveals that Anne is selling herself to Henry “by
the inch” and “wants a cash present for every advance above her knee.” “She’s
got long legs,” replies Cromwell. “By the time he reaches her secret part, the
nation will be bankrupt.”
Machiavelli
would be proud.
With the House of
Commons set to take up a bill declaring Henry supreme head of the Church
in England, Cromwell has the brilliant notion of staging the vote in full
view of the king. All it takes is the monarch’s baleful eye to send a solid
majority of MP’s scurrying over to the “Aye” side. If he were around today,
Cromwell would be stuffing most of Congress into his back pocket.
Other things …
*
Nice touch giving Anne turquoise earrings to match the ring on Cromwell’s
finger.
*
I recently described “Wolf Hall” to a friend as Showtime’s “The Tudors” without
the bare breasts. I stand slightly corrected: There is the briefest flash of
bosom from a brothel window, but this series remains as averse to sexual
display as Cromwell’s Puritan descendant, Oliver.
** If
you have problems imagining dowdy Katherine of Aragon as the plum she was in
youth, just think back to Joanne Whalley’s earlier career and the gorgeous
figure she cut in “The Singing Detective” and “Scandal.” (If you’ve
seen her more recently in “The Borgias,” you know she’s still gorgeous.).
So,
“Wolf” watchers … To whom are you warming currently? Knowing the gender of the
child in Anne’s womb, are you able to summon any pity for that cool customer?
Or are we already shoving her aside in favor of her successor? Wasn’t that
“talking shrimp” Princess Mary (Lily Lesser) a little prettier than you were
expecting? And were you surprised to learn it was illegal to marry your dead
wife’s sister? (In fact, it remained illegal in England until 1907.)
Next
week!
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