What I learned in “The Tudors” and why “Wolf Hall” was a disappointment

Thanks to “The Tudors,” I learned three historical facts:  saintly Thomas More burned heretics, Thomas Cromwell was a man ahead of his time; and Anne Boleyn was a learned   woman who brought French chic to the coarse English Court. My greatest disappointment with “Wolf Hall” was that it completely overlooked Anne’s contributions, inflated and falsified More’s dark side, and failed to turn Cromwell into a sympathetic figure. Does that mean “The Tudors” is superior to “Wolf Hall”?

I closed my opening paragraph with a question that, hopefully, will generate an honest debate. Ever since “Wolf Hall” debuted in “Masterpiece Theater,” it is anathema to try to compare it to” The Tudors.” Michael Hirst’ script is pulpy, full of gratuitous sex and historical inaccuracies. “Wolf Hall,” on the other hand, may lack Showtime’s flamboyance, has almost no sex, no nudity, and it’s discreet and modest, but, by no means, it should be considered flawless.

Having missed “Wolf Hall” in 2015, I was happy to catch a recent rerun in PBS. Although not blind to the show’s merits (which I shall discuss below), I was distracted and annoyed by so much bias and imprecisions.  For that, let’s not blame the BBC, but the book they so carefully adapted. I was told that when it came to historical fiction, Dame Hilary Mantel was scrupulous both in her research and in veracity. Too bad she lets her prejudices overshadow such scruples.

It came as a shock to me that my admired Thomas More had been a heretic hunter and instrumental in the burning of at least six of them.  I learned this sad bit of history in the trashy ‘Tudors’, but the Showtime series also enlightened me about other aspects of More’s life.  Easily verified aspects such as his devotion to his Spanish queen, his love for his family, his struggles to uphold his principles in trying times. The moment Jeremy Northman’s character got to the block, I was all for him because I understood that, in the context of his times, he was not a bad man.

Historians feared that upgrading Cromwell from the villains 'pit would overshadow his deviousness and crimes. Yet “The Tudors” presented us with a scheming, ruthless Cromwell who was not entirely unsympathetic. Mantel’s Cromwell lacks the debonair energy that James Frain brought to his character in “The Tudors.” Frain’s Cromwell bubbled with zest, industry, and expectations for the many projects he had concocted. In “Wolf Hall,” Sir Mark Rylance portrays Cromwell as a collected and distant man who sort of sleepwalks through his evil times and the evil things he does. He only breaks down twice, when in presence of his wife’s corpse, and in his angry tirade provoked by Thomas More’s assertion: “Ï do no harm.”

As Emily Nussbaum noticed in The New Yorker, Sir Mark plays Cromwell as a man without illusions. There we have the first historical inconsistency. Mr. Secretary was anything but a man lacking in aspirations. Realist as he was, he could also afford to dream about his coming up in life and his role in shaping England’s history. His foremost dream was to implant a new, superstition-free, religion in the land.

Almost at the end of the Third Season of “The Tudors” there is a scene that proves my words. A servant has sneaked in Cromwell’s rooms to pilfer a pear. He is shocked to find his master immersed in prayer. Why is he not in a church? Mr. Secretary not only gives him the pear, but rewards the boy with an explanation that G-d is everywhere. One doesn’t need temples or priestly intervention to approach Him! At that moment, Cromwell’s faith is so potent and moving that one forgives him all past misdemeanors. And yet in Wolf Hall, Mantel has an exasperated Cromwell tell More when he notices how his nemesis feels too close to the Almighty: “You talk about your Maker as if he were some neighbor you went fishing with on Sunday afternoon.” Isn’t that the whole point of the New Faith? A more personal relationship with the Divinity?

The problem is that Mantel is both anti-Catholic and anti-religion so she downplays her protagonist’s reformism and religious convictions. She is not alone in considering that the Lord Chancellor’s faith can be a deficiency.  In a blog that compared “The Tudors” to “Wolf Hall,” the bloggers accused Frain’s Cromwell of being “a fanatic.” It’s a telling sign of the times we live that any person of faith should be branded “a fanatic.”

Wolf Hall’s Cromwell may not be a fanatic, but he is a cunning, vindictive person, one who’s actions are motivated by personal resentments. This Cromwell holds grudges against several people and he acts against them propelled by such bitterness. On those grounds, he has Anne Boleyn, the five men accused of being her lovers, and St. Thomas More (whom Cromwell resents since they were children) executed. But the More-Cromwell Feud (that has no historical foundation) will be discussed in another entry. First, I want to be objective and point out the show’s merits, and then go into The Bad and The Ugly in book and series.

Much has been said about the book’s anti-Catholic slant, but few have noticed another dangerous prejudice. There are no good women in this story! The author is so vicious to characters of her own sex that one could call her misogynist. She is particularly venomous in her creation of a despicable and unredeemable Anne Boleyn. Next to Mantel’s Anne, Philippa Gregory’s queen is St. Bernadette Soubirous.

THE GOOD

Damian Lewis as not-so-fat Henry VIII

Although he opted (like others had before him) to be a slim Henry VIII, Damian Lewis played a character remarkably closer to what the last Tudor king was in real life.  This Harry is not a cynical psychopath like Jonathan Rhys Mayer (in “The Tudors”,) neither is he a somber aloof tyrant like the one portrayed by Eric Bana in “The Other Boleyn Girl.” Damián’s Henry is affable, intelligent and somewhat vulnerable. On the second episode, he hands some coins to Cromwell for Wolsey-relief but whispers that he can’t give more because others won’t let him. There is a sense that he is a hesitant king,  that still cares for his adviser’s opinions, but who is not beyond charity and kindness.

Then, in the middle of the night, the king summons Cromwell. He’s had a bad dream and needs someone to holds his hand. And thus, the friendship begins. It’s almost biblical. Ahasuerus and Mordechai. Or is it Ahasuerus and Haman? Cromwell rises to the occasion and demands that Henry rules: “Now it’s the time for you to become the king you should be!” Really? Henry had been ruling for over fifteen years and so far, he had been doing a good job. It was only after Cromwell’s entrance in the picture that Harry became a jerk and that was not Mr. Secretary’s fault. Well, not entirely.

But the greatness of Damian’s performance lies in his character’s evolution. From the besotted king who confides to his secretary: “She (Anne) makes me shake!” and joyful father-to-be who hugs Cromwell after learning his wife is pregnant again, Henry evolves into a sneaky self-centered Queen of Hearts that demands the heads of all who crosses him. For once, there is no attempt to whitewash his character. In “Wolf Hall”, Henry is a beast willing to devour all who bother him: children, wives, friends.

Cromwell as a Ladies Man

Somewhere in “The Tudors,” James Frain bared his soul to his archfoe, the Duke of Suffolk, confiding that his enemies were wrong. Mr. Secretary had a heart, too much of it. In “Wolf Hall “I love to see how Sir Mark Rylance’s Cromwell puts that heart to work (and other parts of his body as well.) By the way Cromwell cries out over her corpse, he was madly in love with his wife Liz. He flirts up a storm with Mary Boleyn, talks about a mysterious Anselma — a past love— and indulges in a clandestine affair with his much-married sister-in-law. He even fantasizes about fondling Anne’s meager boobs!

All throughout, he silently pines for virginal Jane Seymour. Yes, the same one that married Henry the VIII. It is heart-rendering to see Cromwell facing the fact that his king is taking away the woman he loves. It makes you think that if he had spent less time plotting revenge and nursing childish grudges, he could have found happiness with Jane. Well, only in fiction because there is no historical basis for such a romance, but to me,  this is one legitimate creative license.

Sir Mark’s scene with newcomer Kate Phillips (who plays Jane) are a delight to see. He is warm, caring and almost paternal towards her. This attitude turns him into an endearing character. Jane, like most women in the show, can be true to herself when alone with the Lord Chancellor. On that note, Mary Boleyn pours out her heart to Cromwell, and even haughty Anne holds his hand and shows him her bare legs during her confinement.

Dame Hilary Mantel’s finest mastery lies in her depiction of Thomas Cromwell’s relationships with the other sex. With none of James Frain’s sycophantic graciousness, Rylance comes out as someone who understands women and is willing to help them. As caustic Lady Rochford mutters, he is “a good listener.” Sadly, the women in this tale are not as amiable as Good Tom.

THE BAD

Were There No Nice Women in Tudor England?

What makes Cromwell’s kindness towards women so extraordinary is that there are no sympathetic feminine roles in this story. The few nice girls are either children (Cromwell’s dead daughter) or low class:  his wife, Rafe’s wife, Crammer’s wife (the last two only appear in the book).  But even his sister-in- law,  whom he takes into his bed after his wife’s passing, is shown as an adulteress, who dreams her husband dead, and is willing to marry a forbidden man (in those days marrying an in-law was considered incest).  And not all humble women deserve good treatment from Mr. Secretary’s part.

Neither Cromwell nor Mantel have pity on Elisabeth Barton, the “Holy Nun of Kent,” a former serving girl famous from her visions. Mr. Secretary uses her for his purposes and has her executed without trial, failing to see her as what she really is, a deranged woman. To his eyes, a visionary who serves the nobility is a toadying lackey. Ironically, so is Cromwell and like Elisabeth Barton, he will also lose his head.

But it’s ladies of quality that get the worst press here. They are ambitious fools like Blessed Margaret Pole, or big- mouthed alcoholics like Lady Alice More. Mary Boleyn is a slut consumed by sibling- rivalry and her sister in-law, Jane Rochford (delightful to see Jessica Raines move so far from her angelic Jenny of “Call the Midwife,”) is a spiteful bitch.

 Katherine of Aragon, the most tragic character in this tale, is depicted as a superior snob who introduces Cromwell to her daughter as: “This is Mr. Cromwell. He used to be a moneylender.” Even sweet Jane Seymour, whom Cromwell loves from afar, is a shrinking violet who pretends to be much more gullible than she is, and can leave doodles of headless corpses on the bed of her tormenting mistress. But it is that mistress, Anne Boleyn, who gets the worst and mostly unjust press in the book and the series.

THE UGLY

The Mean Boleyn Girl

No other historical figure in Wolf Hall (aside from Thomas More, of course) gets butchered as Anne Boleyn does. Remembering the outrage at Anne’s portrayal in The Other Boleyn Girl, it’s amazing that nobody has complained about Hilary Mantel’s distorted interpretation of King Henry’s second wife. Dame Hilary considers the real Anne Boleyn a self-serving woman who used her sexuality to get ahead, and she describes her as such.

Modern historians do not share Mantel’s narrow-minded views. And certainly, that is not the Anne Boleyn played by Natalie Dormer in “The Tudors.” Dormer’s Anne is an ambitious and manipulative temptress. but Sir Thomas Wyatt’s muse is much more than a mere seductress. Natalie told Professor Susan Bordo that she had read plenty on Henry’s second queen and wanted to incorporate her knowledge to her character.

 Although, Michael Hirst was bent into The Other Woman stereotype, Natalie Dormer managed to pull Anne away from the femme fatale niche and brought us a devout reformer, an intellectual who guided Henry’s readings, a patron of poets and musicians, and a kind queen who felt that the Church’s confiscated riches belonged to the poor not to Henry or Cromwell.

Hilary Mantel does not believe in that Anne. On that note, she invents a queen of phony, an affected little bitch that sports a fake French accent (she insists on calling the Lord Chancellor, “Cremuel”) someone who is cruel to her maids, and lethal to her enemies. Poor Claire Foy, aside from wearing ill-fitting clothing, her Anne wears a perpetual scowl. Anne’s contemporaries, even her enemies, commented on her unusual vivaciousness and wit. Alas, Foy’s pouting creature is not one to provoke desire.

As depicted in “The Tudors,” Cromwell and his queen worked together to reform England and its church. Their dynamic has captured the fandom imagination who express the shipping in all forms of fanfiction. But just as Dame Hilary has chosen to ignore all good about Queen Elizabeth’s mother (I have just read a great article that identifies Anne with Dame Hilary’s mother!), she has her Cromwell loathing Anne and The Boleyn Family.

Both Edward Hall’s Chronicles, and Eustace Chapuys’ reports to his emperor, describe Anne constantly railing against Princess Mary and Catherine of Aragon. She did dress in yellow and threw parties to “celebrate” the Spanish queen’s demise. So, I’m inclined to believe what Wolf Hall and “The Tudors” tell us about Anne’s hatred for her husband’s ex, and her fears that “bastard” Mary would rob Elizabeth of her throne. Perhaps she resented More’s commitment to Catherine, but I don’t believe that like Mantel’s Anne, she played a pivotal role in his martyrdom.

In real life, Anne and Cromwell had a fallout over something Dame Hillary opts to forget: Cromwell’s greed. Anne was shocked to discover that the confiscated gold from the dissolved abbeys was lining her husband’s and Mr. Secretary’s pockets. She demanded it should be used for charity. When Cromwell refused, Anne had a priest preach against Mr. Secretary comparing him to biblical Haman. It was then that Cromwell decided to bring down the queen and her family. But Wolf Hall disregards these historical truths and has Anne and Cromwell fighting over something as bizarre as…Mary Tudor.

The Strange Case of Princess Mary and her Evil Stepmother

Wolf Hall presents us with a disturbing and off-the- wall relationship between Lord Chancellor and Lady Mary Tudor. One of the (obviously trumped out) charges against Thomas Cromwell was his intention to marry Henry’s eldest daughter. Funny, because Mary and Cromwell were not even friends.  After Anne Boleyn’s execution, Cromwell corresponded with Lady Mary to convince her (he failed just like with More and Catherine of Aragon) to take the accursed Oath recognizing Henry as the head of Catholic Church. After being rebutted once too many, Mr. Secretary lost composure and wrote in anger to the Princess calling her “the most obstinate of women!” Hardly the road for married bliss.

In Wolf Hall, Cromwell meets Mary while visiting her mother. He finds her suffering from menstrual cramps, and drags a chair for her to sit down. That bit of kindness prompts the future Bloody Mary to confide to this stranger her opinions of his father’s mistress. Later, he tries to make Mary’s life less miserable by arranging a dynastic marriage for her.

Henry, who acts like he hates a daughter he once loved, berates Cromwell and accuses him of getting too big for his breeches. Anne, of course, fuels the fires. She truly hates Mary and demands Cromwell to compromise her stepdaughter. After all, “She likes you!” Ohhh, is this Queen Ravenna talking about Snow White? Not even gossipy Chapuys imagined Anne reaching this extent of hatred for her husband’s daughter. “Those are not my methods,” Cromwell answers coldly. His interest in Mary will lead to his final bout with the queen.

By the end of Chapter Six, the king has received a bad blow while jousting. Fearing his imminent death, Cromwell sends for Princess Mary, obviously to have her crowned. On hearing this, Anne goes bonkers. Why such a treacherous act when she was pregnant and Elizabeth was the obvious choice to inherit her father’s crown? As this never happened in real life, Mantel’s Cromwell comes up with the lamest of excuses. He can’t rely on unborn babes and infants. Would the real Cromwell rely on Mary, a girl that had every reason to detest him, a devout Catholic, the emperor’s cousin, someone that stood against everything he believed and fought for? Obviously not, but that is Dame Hilary’s way to explain Cromwell’s betrayal of Anne.

All I hope, is that in the last book, Dame Hilary continues playing with this impossible but titillating friendship between such unlikely mates.  Meanwhile there is plenty of fanfiction (in video form) created by those who ship Mary-Cromwell.

In my next entry, I hope to discuss the totally fictitious feud between both Lord Chancellors, show how real-life Thomas More had nothing to do with Mantel’s character, and how by placing Cromwell on an altar, Dame Hilary distanced him from the riveting man he really was.