I finally finished watching season 1 of The Tudors on DVD this afternoon. I’d seen most of the episodes online last year, but gave up around 7, because I just couldn’t find a decent website to host the video, and frankly watching an hour long show every week on a computer screen? Notsomuch with the attention span of the flea.
First, I’d like to say that my inner History Major was jumping up and down and screaming and pouting and threatening to quit and all sorts of things, but she was quickly shup up by my inner Smut Whore and then beaten to a pulp by my inner Jeremy Northam Stalker.
But I thought I’d give her a say anyways. So, if you do not wish to be enlighened and educated, you may skip the next part.
First, WOLSEY ABSOLUTELY DID NOT, IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, COMMIT SUICIDE. Not even in the weasly little “the world will never know” way that they tried to pass it off as.
Also, the stupid “Princess Margaret” thing. Henry VIII had two sisters, Mary and Margaret. They only gave him one in here- Margaret. But lest that make way too much sense, they gave her Mary’s life story, although kind of screwed around a little bit (it was France, not Portugal, she didn’t kill him, she was happily married to Brandon for years and had three kids, etc.)
And Bessie Blount’s son dying in infancy? For no reason other than the idiot 2007 audience will go, “Oh, but he has a son anyways! Why are they fighting!?!”
These all bothered me immensely. Because there was simply no reason for it. They could have easily done the Wolsey thing correctly- he even died in real life at the exact same time as he offed himself in the show, and it would have been just as tragic. Margaret could have become Mary and the actual Margaret could have been mentioned, because she did, you know, give birth to the next dynasty. And Henry Fitzroy? Was a stupid minor plotpoint that could have been either ignored, or handled the correct way.
But they didn’t, and frankly it pissed me off.
That being said, OMG BEST SHOW EVER SO MUCH BETTER ON DVD. *SQUEE*
Seriously. I loved the fact that you slowly saw Henry VIII going mad.
I love the clothes.
I love how hot Thomas More is. In that holier-than-thou, self-righteous, Oh-he’d-educate-our-daughters-and-take-our-babies-to-Mass!!! way. At least until he started burning heretics. (BTW, was I the only one who laughed out loud when he replied to an inquiry about how many Lutherans he’d burned with, “Only six. All heretics, necessary, and…well done.”
HEY. He wasn’t a saint yet. It doesn’t become creepy and unholy and damning until 1935.
Also? The Invasion on Tuesday. I may die of happiness.