Philip Glenister as Wm Stafford curtly asking Mary Boleyn to be his wife (The Other Boleyn Girl, 2003)
Jim Sturgess as George Boleyn, in the tower, awaiting beheading (The Other Boleyn Girl 2008)
Dear friends and readers,
This week I’ve been listening to Simon Vance read Hilary Mantel’s Bring up the Bodies so effectively that I returned to re-watching the 2008 Other Boleyn Girl film and part of the 2015 mini-series Wolf Hall. And now after several Tudor films this year I’d not watched before, and a number of non-fiction as well as fiction books on the actors and/or milieus of this area, how the Renaissance era is seen from contemporary documents. I’ve also come up with with an fresh idea that might help explain the popularity of this era. For why after all should the murderous and sexually insecure impulses of a half-mad King Henry VIII deserve a moment’s attention.
It’s this: the appeal of this Tudor Matter comes from its unacknowledged freedom to present masculinity in ways that undermine norms for men either in costume, manners or sexual behavior since the later 19th century, and tell real truths about fluid sexual desire and what worldly ambition may necessitate. hese “Elizabethan” or “Renaissance dream-themes,” screenplays and films expose men caught up in situations where their masculine pride is directly hit. They kneel to strong women, and their swords are rendered irrelevant when it comes to the power of money, religion and the king. The origin of this is in the period: men were flamboyantly dressed, the poetry and plays of the era demonstrate how they defied sexual taboos by enacting enthrallment, abjection, and sensitivity; when aristocrats or courtiers or businessmen (lending money) or soldiers, they were at direct risk from monarchs with the power to execute them with impunity. There were a number of women who came to power and used it effectively: Catherine de Medici in France, Elizabeth I in England are only among the most famous and powerful; there are many minor levels of power and victimage. Historical fiction and gothics picked up on this strain beginning with later 18th century gothics (Sophia Lee’s The Recess, 1783) and Walter Scott (Kenilworth and The Abbot among many others), and have not let up since; films took this over in both the US and UK from The Prisoner of Zenda on, and especially in the Errol Flynn and Gainsborough movies. Stewart Grainger is with us still in Ross Poldark.
Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl (2001) has been credited with putting new characters into the familiar mapped territory: George and Mary Boleyn. In Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, Hilary Mantel has for a wider public transformed the character of Thomas Cromwell (it began in the scholarship of Geoffrey Elton and Marilyn Robertson, 1970s-89) from the monster of Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons into another kind of empathetic hero-monster, a fixer and businessman and intellectual coerced into cooperation, co-opted like many today feel they are. for myself I bond intensely with Mary Boleyn, and have ever wanted to read more about the so-called “minor” women of the court, from the French Jeanne d’Albret (mother of Henry IV who said Paris was worth a mass) to Katherine Parr. It’s the first age where we find numbers of women educated and writing letters and poetry and drama.
Beyond this I am just fascinated by bringing Elizabethan-set movies together, and looking to see what is their dramaturgy; what new did this movie contribute to the Tudor Matter, what new techniques did it use. I want to watch the older Elizabethan movies and trace the changes in movies about Elizabeth I, Mary Stuart, from Scott. I get the impression the 18th century was more stuck in frozen gender types than the age before or ours since. I find myself looking at the paintings of the Renaissance era to see where ideas and images came from for each decade of the 20th and 21st.
Ana Torrent as Katharine of Aragon (Other Boleyn Girl, 2008)
The 2003 film is peculiarly fascinating for the way it also defies dramaturgical norms: Andrew Davies is credited as adviser and this script has the characters speak directly to us; the focus of the story is inward shattering of participants. Who are these: Anne and Mary Boleyn, with George around the edges of their talk .The 2008 film was a commercially successful costume extravaganza, whose historical adviser was Gregory herself, whose characters in this film strongly feminist film: beyond the Boleyn Girls, the remarkable Ana Torrent for Katherine of Aragon, Kristin Scott Thomas for Elizabeth Boleyn, the mother of the two beheaded children. The agonies of childbirth are presented repeatedly. I found these two women writhing under their lack of power yet so strong. The makers of Wolf Hall have had the daring to give us a new Elizabethan revenge play, with Anne Boleyn as a cool and transgressive stealth tragic heroine, and Cromwell a driven Hamlet.
Clare Foy as Anne Boleyn, aggressively keen archer, POV Cromwell (2015 Wolf Hall)
Ellen
Arabella Trefoil: “Because the men were insecure and scared, and the women were strong.”
My reply: But why? Winston Graham says about historical fiction: “Human beings have not changed ‘but their reactions to life patterns’ have and do, and the writer must understand and try to transmit these life patterns to the reader.” What now strikes me is these historical films when at their best transmit these patterns and we see men and women behaving far more fluidly over sex than we see this in films and books set in our own century or the 18th and 19th.
Arabella: We are reading about the upper class. They had more latitude or scope than the other classes. Kings in England had to leave a recognized male heir to secure the line. We forget how may civil wars England had right before H8 took the throne. If a man could not father an heir he was “nothing” although ironically the women were often blamed for bad wombs or bad eggs. Women knew their power (but also their great risk.) H8 didn’t just want sex from his consorts, he wanted a son.
Plus H8 was strange/crazy beyond my understanding. Maybe because he was the second son, brought up to go into the church until his elder brother died, There were no DNA tests in those days. Perhaps some queens hoped to pass off another man’s child as the heir. Women in the Tudor period remind me of the women in “I Claudius.” They turned a potential weakness (being women, and the mysteries of the womb) into a strength.
Me: What interests me is not the case of his central super-powerful mad man, but the men around him: how they behaved. How they gave up their wives’, daughters’, nieces’ bodies to them, and even more how they were abject themselves when it came to love-making and relationships. That is reflected in the literature of the era. Henry is still but one man and is the product of the society that produced the others. And I think these men and women constitute the fascination of these Tudor movie and book matter just as much as the central players, maybe more as the Tudor matter branches out.
The movies show the women helpless against nature: they writhe and groan and miscarry or have stilborn or children not in good health. Not much power if they also frequently died soon after — like Jane Seymour. I Claudius is another era altogether
That’s true. They traded those daughters around like pawns, all to gain political advantage. This was during ah historical transitional period in Europe. The Protestant Reformation gave a great deal of power to women. Remember, only men learned Latin and men ran the Roman Catholic Church. Too complex an idea to elaborate on here. But what looks like “the Tudor Period” all decked out with lovely clothes and customs, was shakey. The Renaisance was just beginning.
One thing I will say is that Ann Boleyn has earned my respect. All women feared childbirth and knew it might lead to death. But many women survived. You just had to hope you’d be one of the lucky ones. Even if you gave birth to a healthy chilld, death rates of babies and children in Tudor England were astronomically high.
On a lighter note, I notice that Kate Middleton gets pregant so regularly that in every photo of her and Queen Elizabeth, her majesty has a sour look on her face. As if all this reproduction is distateful. (I do not mean to offend anyone by this observation.)
Just back again trying for a lighter note: you mean that Kate is pregnant yet a third time? She’s trying to show us maybe we better not envy her …
[…] I’m also waiting to hear on proposal for a paper on Charlotte Smith’s Ethelinde for next fall at Chawton. If it’s rejected, I’ll put it on my blog the way I did the proposal to write about male stereotypes in Tudor matter (The Other Bolyen Girl and Wolf Hall analysed). […]
[…] I’m also waiting to hear on proposal for a paper on Charlotte Smith’s Ethelinde for next fall at Chawton. If it’s rejected, I’ll put it on my blog the way I did the proposal to write about male stereotypes in Tudor matter (The Other Bolyen Girl and Wolf Hall analysed). […]
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[…] had noticed this pattern in Tudor dramas on film (Wolf Hall, The Other Boleyn Girl, The Hollow Crown, Henry 8 and Elizabeth I films): the […]
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