The Plays of Robert Bolt, Part II

Dueling Queens: Sarah Miles and Eileen Atkins in Vivat! Vivat Regina! (Source)

Part One here.

Robert Bolt's later works show the playwright sublimated to the screenwriter. The first, The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew, incorporates Bolt's thematic preoccupations into a children's play. Vivat! Vivat Regina grafts Brechtian stylization onto the tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots. Last is State of Revolution, a wordy, overstuffed but fascinating chronicle of the Russian Revolution.

Bolt's penchant for the grandiose remains undiminished. Each of the plays features dozens of characters, elaborate staging and sweeping events that must have been nightmarish to perform. On page the plays (mostly) read well-enough; on stage they might be excessive. Arguably, Bolt's ambition exceeds the medium.

The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew (1964)

“A very good way is to do what you should… But a bit of what you fancy, does yer good!” 

After completing Doctor Zhivago Bolt penned The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew, a delightful children’s play. Commissioned by the Royal Shakespeare Company for their 1964 Christmas season, its original production starred heavyweights John Normington, Michael Jayston, Terence Rigby, and Leo McKern. The play proved a huge success, with yearly revivals in Britain, a television adaptation by Germany’s Augsburger Puppetkiste, and a novelization published in 1995.

In a medieval Kingdom, assorted nobles celebrate their triumph over dragons with endless leisure. Do-gooder Oblong Fitz Oblong gets assigned to Baron Bolligrew, an oppressive landlord taxing his charges to death. Oblong befriends Michael, an amoral magpie who resembles a more benign Gentle Jack, and his square idealism initially proves fruitless against Boligrew and evil warlock Moloch. Things come to a head when Moloch summons an evil dragon to vanquish Oblong. Oblong must break his moral code to triumph.

Bolligrew incorporates Bolt's pet themes and stylization amidst a children's setting. His Storyteller functions like the Common Man from A Man for All Seasons: a narrator and character in the story, breaking the fourth wall with a wink and nod. Bolt's script stresses the artificiality with tinny music, cardboard animals and self-aware dialogue. It's a pleasing mix of the intellectual and playful: kids can appreciate the silliness, adults can enjoy Bolt's craftsmanship.

All this analytical hooey overwhelms the fact that Bolligrew is a kid’s play – and an excellent one at that. Sir Oblong's upright heroism takes a beating from assorted villains, but virtue comes out on top. Wonderfully crafted and with a droll sense of humor, it treats its young audience with respect. No wonder Bolt called it “the [play] that’s given me the most pleasure.”  

Vivat! Vivat Regina! (1970)

"She will have what she desires, and it will fetch her off her throne.”

Bolt returned to Tudor England in 1970, writing Vivat! Vivat Regina! as a vehicle for his wife Sarah Miles. Performed at the Chichester Theatre Festival with Miles as Mary Stuart and Eileen Atkins as Elizabeth I, it received considerable success. An equally successful Broadway version with Atkins and Claire Bloom ran in New York the following year, earning several Tony nominations. Vivat has experienced several revivals, including a 1985 off-Broadway version with Geraldine Page as Elizabeth, and Barbara Flynn as Mary in a 1995 Mermaid Theatre production.

Despite its reception, Vivat is Bolt’s weakest history play. The saga of Mary Queen of Scots has been told many times, from Maxwell Anderson to Maria Schiller. Bolt’s depiction of the dynastic duo as “figures on a seesaw, so similar and opposite” is interesting but not especially novel: Elizabeth sacrifices love for her throne, while Mary’s carnal fulfillment destroys her grip on power. We get a recitation of familiar history, well-written but unsurprising.

Vivat’s primary interest is Bolt’s very cinematic imagery. Most effective is a form of theatrical “cross cutting” which allows the Queens to interact without actually meeting. Thus he avoids the pitfall of a fictitious Mary-Elizabeth confrontation. The stylized stage work, with an elevated pyramid standing in for the respective throne, stands halfway between Absurd sparseness and traditional pageantry. More familiar Brechtian tropes (characters addressing the audience, use of a nursery rhyme during Darnley’s assassination) are employed to mixed effect. With its trappings of Epic Theatre, Vivat is probably more effective on stage than page.

As always, Bolt provides reams of crisp dialogue and eloquent speeches. But he clutters the narrative with an excess of characters and the story frequently drags. The personal focus which worked so well in A Man for All Seasons here trivializes history into a royal cat fight; we don’t get a proper grasp of the momentous political and religious issues at stake. Vivat is ultimately readable but underwhelming.

State of Revolution (1977)

“We cannot assume that the times in which we live are not catastrophic, merely because it is we who live in them. After all, someone has to live in catastrophic times.” 

Robert Bolt spent two years researching this epic treatment of the Russian Revolution, staged by Peter Hall's National Theatre with a prestigious cast: Michael Bryant, Michael Kitchen, Terence Rigby and Brian Blessed. The production proved arduous, due in part to a labor strike by stage hands. Critics savaged the play for being pro-Communist, anti-Communist or (in Irving Wardle's words) having "nothing definite to say."

State of Revolution was another personal project. Bolt held a New Left view of Communism, dismayed by Soviet tyranny but hopeful for true revolution elsewhere. Besides CND, he joined Hugh Trevor-Roper and Ernie Roberts in visiting Maoist China in 1965. His radio play The Window depicted the '56 Hungarian Revolution, while Doctor Zhivago provided a worm's-eye view of Revolutionary Russia. Bolt's time as president of ACTT (the Association of Cinematographic and Television Technicians) disillusioned him: in the mid-'70s he moderated a bitter dispute between Trotskyist unions, bankrupt studios and Harold Wilson's Labour government.

Like Vivat and Gentle Jack, State of Revolution is just too big: 25 speaking parts, large crowd scenes and spectacle covering 15 years of Russian history. The narrative lurches from prewar Capri through World War I, both revolutions, Red Terror, the Kronstadt Rebellion and Trotsky and Stalin's rivalry. With so much going on, State bogs down in spectacle. Producing it must have been nightmarish. Without Brechtian sparseness it's a panorama, meticulously accurate but dramatically stiff.

State lacks Bolt's usual themes. Zhelnik, leader of the Kronstadt Soviet, represents the pure extremist embodied by Louis Flax in Tiger and the Horse or Strelnikov in Doctor Zhivago, a revolutionary too pure for the Revolution. Felix Dzerzhinsky's evolution from idealist to pitiless executioner depicts humanity sublimated by ideology. Captain Draganoff has shades of the Common Man, cheerily switching from the Tsarist police to the Cheka. These characters are marginal however, Bolt instead focusing on the Bolshevik inner circle.

State crosses a "Great Men" historical pageant with Marxist dialectic: "Big events aren't formed by people, people are formed by big events." Education Minister Lunacharsky lectures about "the historically determined movement of the masses" while celebrating Lenin and Stalin's individual brilliance. Bolt also explores the contradictions between the Revolution's idealism and its brutal methods. But he ultimately reflects a naive sympathy towards the Bolsheviks: if only Stalin hadn't usurped Trotsky, Russia would be a Workers' Paradise! Yeah, right.

Bolt's portrait of Lenin and Co. drives home the irony. Lenin starts a relentless fanatic but the realities of government force moderation. Trotsky threatens German ministers with the mutiny of their men; "We do seem to have won," comes the retort. The New Economic Policy, liquidation of the Kulaks and revanchist imperialism transforms the Revolution into a repressive state. Trotsky, a theoretician whose arrogance alienates everyone, feuds with Stalin, an "administrator" like A Man for All Seasons' Cromwell waiting to be useful. Bolt shows how personalities and practicality shaped the Soviet Union more than theory.

State of Revolution finally proves more challenging than entertaining. Nonetheless, its shrewd deconstruction of Marxist dogma makes it worth reading.

* * *
State of Revolution was Bolt's final stage play. He spent the next three years working torturously on David Lean's The Bounty, the stress of which triggered a crippling stroke. After a long, painful recovery Bolt penned a few more screenplays (The Mission, Without Warning: The James Brady story) but never again returned to the stage. Perhaps the negative reaction towards State dissuaded him. Or perhaps he realized his true talents lie in cinema.

Back to movies soon!

The Private Life of Henry VIII

"Six wives - and the best one is the worst!"

Our final entry in the Tudor sweepstakes is The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), a comic take on England's most infamous monarch. It catapulted the Korda Brothers to the top of the British film industry, and established the popular image of Henry as an obese, slobbery creature of appetites. Not a complete success, it remains watchable for Charles Laughton's outsized performance.

Henry VIII (Charles Laughton) has already failed twice at marriage, divorcing Catherine of Aragon and executing Anne Boleyn (Merle Oberon). His third wife Jane Seymour (Wendy Barrie) dies in childbirth, and fourth wife Anne of Cleves (Elsa Lanchester) escapes the match by acting like a ninny. Henry's roving eye then turns towards lady-in-waiting Katherine Howard (Binnie Barnes), who's infatuated with nobleman Thomas Culpepper (Robert Donat). Will Henry ever find true happiness?

The Private Life of Henry VIII approaches Henry's reign as a bawdy comedy of manners. The Kordas eschew messy political/religious turmoil, focusing on the King's bedroom antics and romantic frustration. The funniest scene has Henry sneaking off to a liaison with Katharine, only to be repeatedly announced by his guards! Backgrounding ministers like Cromwell (Franklin Dyall), we're treated instead to amusing bit characters: a French swordsman (Gibb McLaughlin) obsessed with "elegance," Henry's gabby barber (Hay Petrie), crowds watching executions like football fans. The weak leg is the Katharine-Culpepper romance, pitched at a level of high tragedy that doesn't mesh with the farcical tone.

Charles Laughton played many iconic characters (Captain Bligh, Quasimodo) but Henry is arguably the best. Henry scarfing a chicken leg, spilling wine on his frock and laughing uproariously presaged a century of screen depictions, at least until hunky Eric Bana and Jonathan Rhys-Myers. One spectacular scene has Henry's laughter spilling out into the servant's quarters and the streets, perfectly capturing his boisterous personality. Laughton gets big laughs throughout the film, yet achieves pathos in later scenes realizing he'll never achieve true love. It's a masterful turn.

The best of Henry's wives is Elsa Lanchester, the real-life Mrs. Laughton. Lanchester is hysterically funny both playing a Teutonic hick and cheating Henry at cards. Binnie Barnes is appropriately tragic but stiff Robert Donat (The 39 Steps) lets down his end of the triangle. Merle Oberon is strikingly beautiful in her brief scenes as Anne Boleyn; she'd soon become a star in her own right.

The Private Life of Henry VIII isn't a masterpiece but it's certainly a fun, unique take on Tudor England.

The Virgin Queen (1955)

Sixteen years after her first stab at Elizabeth, Bette Davis returns in The Virgin Queen (1955). It's a real treat to see Good Queen Bette again, even if the film surrounding her is a trifle.

Dashing solider/sailor Sir Walter Raleigh (Richard Todd) arrives in London to gain the Queen's (Bette Davis) favor and support for an expedition to the Americas. Elizabeth becomes infatuated with Sir Walter, keeping him at court and preventing his expedition. Sir Walter falls for Elizabeth's maid, Beth Throgmorton (Joan Collins), and marries her secretly. When the Queen finds out, she angrily signs a death warrant for Raleigh and his consort.

The Virgin Queen is a pretty looking film, with Charles G. Clarke's brilliant Cinemascope photography and impeccable art direction. Scenarists Harry Brown and Mindret Lord provide some snappy dialogue and clever bits of court intrigue, as when Raleigh relieves a gormless tailor of the cloak he's made for the French ambassador. But it feels stuffy under Henry Koster's workmanlike direction: at 92 minutes Virgin's plot never really gets off the ground. A predictable love triangle, Franz Waxman's generic score, and boring supporting cast don't help matters.

Bette Davis saves the film with an enjoyable performance. If the film's Elizabeth is fairly one-dimensional, Bette has fun biting off crisp dialogue with abandon, raging like a harridan and blowing her co-stars off the screen. Richard Todd (Operation Crossbow) is dashing but colorless, while fetching Joan Collins (The Bravados) handles her character arc poorly. Somewhere among the cast are Rod Taylor and Leslie Parrish (The Manchurian Candidate).

The Virgin Queen is an unambitious, disposable costume drama. But if you liked Bette Davis in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, you'll likely enjoy her reprise.

Elizabeth I

Our journey through Tudor England continues with Elizabeth I (2005). Tom Hooper presents an intelligent, stirring miniseries that avoids the speculative melodrama and soggy romanticism of recent Tudor efforts. With a smart script and the sterling Helen Mirren, it's a first-class work.

In 1578, Elizabeth's (Helen Mirren) throne is reasonably secure, but she still desires marriage. Unable to wed lover Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (Jeremy Irons), Elizabeth woos the Duke of Anjou (Jeremie Covillault), but the match falls through. Catholics plot against the Queen and the Spanish Armada comes calling. Ministers William Cecil, Lord Burghley (Ian McDiarmid) and Francis Walsingham (Patrick Malahide) argue that the captive Mary Queen of Scots (Barbara Flynn) remains a threat, and Elizabeth agonizes over whether to execute a "God-anointed Queen."

After Leicester's death, his stepson Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex (Hugh Dancy) becomes the Queen's new favorite. Essex abuses his position to gain military commands, secure tax revenue and place friends in power. Burghley and Walsingham pass away, and Essex goes to Ireland to suppress an uprising. An isolated Elizabeth leans on Robert Cecil (Toby Jones), Burghley's son, for guidance when Essex's ambition escalates to rebellion.

Elizabeth I's sober approach lifts it above other recent Tudor epics. Nigel Williams's script bristles with biting wit, sharply drawn characters and a real sense of Elizabeth's time. Hooper and Williams make familiar personages and events seem fresh, precisely where Elizabeth: the Golden Age faltered. The show keeps the romance tasteful: Elizabeth shares only a few hesitant kisses with her favorites. In Elizabeth I, however, the personal and political are closely interwoven.

This series provides a complex, credible Elizabeth. Queen Bess inherited not only Henry VIII's political skill but also his uneven temprament. Her emotions and allegiance veer wildly, a level-headed monarch one moment, a vain, shrieking harpy the next. Her love for Leicester is genuine, but her infatuation with the much younger Essex reeks of desperation. She forgives him for repeated indiscretions and grants him unearned power. This Elizabeth sacrifices love with the utmost reluctance, allowing her private ills to seep into her statescraft.

Elizabeth's favorites play a dangerous game, trading on their Queen's affection for titles and influence. Frustrated by Elizabeth's caprice, both Leicester and Essex take mistresses and foolishly think they can retain the Queen's favor. Where Leicester learns to accept Elizabeth's "friendship," Essex thinks her love entitles him to kingly power, even marriage. He dies earnestly (if not honestly) proclaiming the Cecils his malefactors, when he clearly dug his own grave.

While court intrigues take a backseat to Elizabeth's personal life, there's plenty of politicking to savor. Elizabeth needs her ministers to keep things on an even keel but spars with them nonetheless. Anjou seems an ideal suitor until Burghley decides his incompetence runs contrary to England's interests. Walsingham rigs the evidence against Mary Stuart and strong arms Elizabeth into ordering her execution. Elizabeth then rewrites the warrant to make them shoulder the guilt. Robert learns that propriety and competence earn the Queen's respect; favorites come and go but a good councilor is constant.

Director Tom Hooper went on to the celebrated John Adams and The King's Speech. He's quite good here, managing a beautifully shot, large scale production without the annoying camera work of the aforementioned shows. The show is long (211 minutes) and occasionally slow, but Hooper keeps it lively with rich imagery and art direction; he stages a swordfight, a modest-sized battle scene and some gruesome executions along the way.

Helen Mirren joins Bette Davis and Glenda Jackson in the Elizabethan upper tier. Mirren isn't afraid to look dowdy or make Elizabeth unlikeable, going for the human even when repugnant. She handles Elizabeth's ranting rages, regal monologues, and desperate pining with equal aplomb. It's a difficult, complex characterization that Mirren masterfully pulls off.

Jeremy Irons gets his best role in ages. Irons has some great banter with Mirren and crafts a memorably tragic character, endlessly frustrated by his ambiguous standing with the Queen. Hugh Dancy's charismatic performance is equally memorable. Dancy is appropriately dashing, arrogant and rash, allowing his ego and entitlement to override common sense.

Toby Jones (Captain America) gets a standout role as the shrewd Robert Cecil. Ian McDiarmid and Patrick Malahide play Elizabeth's senior ministers with dry wit and professional detachment. Jeremie Covillault's sensitive Anjou is a nice departure from Vincent Cassel's effete stereotype in Elizabeth. Barbara Flynn appears briefly as Mary Stuart; Groggy fondly remembers her as Robbie Coltrane's estranged wife on Cracker.

Elizabeth I is the best Tudor film in a long time. We all enjoy Natalie Dormer's heaving bosom (or maybe you're into Jonathan Rhys-Myers?), but it's nice to see an Elizabethan epic take its subject seriously.

Elizabeth: The Golden Age

"I like her not!" - Henry VIII

Elizabeth: the Golden Age (2007) was my first theatrical viewing in college. It was quite a hectic day: class on the butt-end of campus, losing my watch and getting a haircut from some weird Italian guy. Riding the bus to the theater, I got off at the wrong stop, was stranded in Squirrel Hill and had to wait for a very kind woman to guide me into town. Finally staggering into the theater, the projector broke down three times in the film's first ten minutes. Oh, and the movie sucked.

Sadly, the intervening years haven't improved my opinion. Elizabeth (1998) is historically murky but very entertaining, Shekhar Kapur showing a flare for period pageantry and classy melodrama. This belated sequel is a misbegotten farrago, recycling well-known history in a manner boring, offensive and ostentatious.

In 1585, Elizabeth I's (Cate Blanchett) throne is still threatened from within and without: Spain's Philip II (Jordi Molla) is preparing an invasion of England, while English Catholics under Anthony Babington (Eddie Redmayne) conspire to kill Elizabeth and place Mary Stuart (Samantha Morton) on the throne. But Elizabeth is too concerned with dashing explorer Sir Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen), who simultaneously charms the Queen and lady-in-waiting Bess Throckmorton (Abbie Cornish). Spymaster Francis Walsingham (Geoffrey Rush) slowly unravels Phillip's scheme, forcing Elizabeth's understrength navy to square off against the Spanish Armada.

The Golden Age gets off on the wrong foot by covering well-trodden ground. Its subjects certainly could make interesting films, and individually they have: The Sea Hawk, The Virgin Queen, Mary, Queen of Scots. Just two years prior, in fact, Tom Hooper's Elizabeth I miniseries covered the same events. It's a bad sign when you immediately invite comparisons to other, better movies.

Nor is the execution better. Michael Hirst and William Nicholson's script is a mess, introducing multiple subplots without giving any of them breathing room. Kapur focuses on a silly love triangle that mines every imaginable cliche. Setpieces (an assassination attempt, Mary's execution) seem self-contained, the build-up so cursory they don't register at all. When the Armada finally arrives, we get a shockingly generic Henry V speech from Elizabeth and an effects-laden montage of exploding warships. Yawn.


A low point is some shockingly blunt anti-Catholic bigotry. Scenes of Philip scheming, conspirators plotting and Mary pouting are crammed with priests, rosaries, crucifixes and Latin chanting. Characters constantly call Elizabeth a whore and bastard. At one point, Philip chortles "Elizabeth is darkness, *I* am the light!", somehow stifling maniacal laughter. If read for contemporary parallels, the film's message is just depressing: Catholics (Muslims?) are unreasoning monsters, so why not kill them all? Good luck with that.

Golden Age is certainly a spectacle, all sumptuous costumes, ornate set design and crazy lighting. This culminates in a jawdropping scene where Elizabeth, branded a whore by a would-be assassin, stands bathed in radiant, heavenly light. Ordinarily I'd praise Kapur's efforts, but the imagery is baldly ostentatious, as if enough pretty pictures compensate for other deficiencies. Who cares about plot? Here's a shot of a horse swimming through a shipwreck, and a camera spinning around Elizabeth! Spinning!

Cate Blanchett is captivating as always. She's good as a monarch forced to reap the consequences of a loveless life and difficult reign. On the other hand, she doesn't go the extra mile like the best Elizabeths. Where Bette Davis smeared herself with fright makeup and Glenda Jackson shaved her head, Blanchett remains strikingly glamorous for a 50-something woman. Not that I'm complaining.

Geoffrey Rush is strangely watered-down, lacking his delicious deviousness from the first outing. An attempt to flesh out Walsingham with a treacherous brother (Adam Godley) amounts to little. Clive Owen mixes smug posturing with silly ramblings and Abbie Cornish is bland. Samantha Morton gets so little screen time she doesn't register. Tom Hollander (Land of the Blind) has an inconsequential bit.

All signs indicate Elizabeth: The Golden Age should be a good film. Unfortunately, it's a near-complete failure, buoyed only by pretty pictures and Cate Blanchett.

A Man for All Seasons (1988)

When Ted Turner started his TNT cable network in 1988, his first project was a remake of Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons. Charlton Heston, having played Sir Thomas More in a West End performance of the play, eagerly agreed to direct and star, bringing a few name actors with him. The result is this curious film, more faithful to Bolt's play than Fred Zinnemann's adaptation but flat and stagy. Given my long-winded review of the earlier film, I'll restrict myself to the differences in adaptation here.

Sir Thomas More (Charlton Heston) becomes Chancellor of England upon the death of Cardinal Wolsey (John Gielgud). But his strong Catholic principles put him in conflict with Henry VIII's (Martin Chamberlain) desire to divorce Catherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn, sitting in motion the English Reformation. Even after resignation More is hounded by Henry's henchmen, Thomas Cromwell (Benjamin Withrow) and Richard Rich (Jonathon Hackett), ultimately imprisoned for his silence. But even when More's wife (Vanessa Redgrave) and daughter (Adrienne Thomas) beg him to submit, Sir Thomas refuses to back down.

The biggest addition to Heston's Man is the Common Man, a character excised completely from the 1966 film. Intended as a Brechtian alienation device onstage, he works just fine as a sardonic narrator in this film. Assaying various small parts, he embodies Bolt's thematic preoccupation with men who shun culpability for their actions, malleable to the whims of his betters: "Better a live rat than a dead lion." Roy Kinnear's lively performance sells the character, and overall he's a positive addition.

Others are less successful. The scenes with Spanish Ambassador Chapuys (Nicolas Amer) feel superfluous. There's more emphasis on More's religious piety but not enough to seriously alter the story's fabric. Other scenes (naturally) run much longer than before, leading to a stilted pace where the original was brisk and engaging. Frankly, few of these additions benefit the movie, aside from some clever bits of prose. What works on stage or the page merely results in a long (150 minutes), plodding film.

Heston's direction is competent, borrowing visual cues of water and fire from Zinnemann's film. This being a TV production, though, the film succeeds or fails with the actors. Unfortunately the cast is wildly variable, ranging from quite good to wretched. Perhaps it's the cast, made up largely of stage actors? Perhaps it's Heston, with his limited directing experience? Either way it's frustrating.

Heston plays in his usual manner, with imposing physicality and hammy line delivery. He delivers More's big speeches (especially the "Give the Devil benefit of law" soliloquy) with perfect gusto and certainly lends dramatic weight to the climax. It's the quiet moments where Heston falters: he's just as mannered chatting with Margaret or poking fun at Roper as he is telling off Cromwell. I usually like Chuck but he comes off badly as More. Where Paul Scofield is subtle, Heston is overbearing.

Roy Kinnear (The Three Musketeers) gives a robust, witty performance, providing much-needed humor. Richard Johnson (Khartoum) shows an unusual liveliness as the Duke of Norfolk, and John Hudson easily bests Corin Redgrave's silly take on Roper. Best of all is Benjamin Whitrow. Whitrow plays Cromwell more subtlely than Leo McKern, a slippery snake in the grass rather than a blustering bully. This makes several scenes more powerful, especially his seduction of Rich and his cold-hearted interrogations of More.

Unfortunately, each good performance is balanced with a poor one. Vanessa Redgrave badly overplays Alice, complete with regrettable Yorkshire accent. John Gielgud sleepwalks through his scene, bereft of his usual gravitas. Martin Chamberlain's Henry and Adrienne Thomas's Margaret are similarly flat. The worst offender is Jonathon Hackett, playing Rich like an overeager high school student. His Rich is a pathetic dope rather than John Hurt's lost lamb, especially his pleading with More for employment. Nor is his conversion to the Dark Side convincing.

This A Man for All Seasons is a very mixed bag. Fans of the play might appreciate Heston's more thorough adaptation, but average viewers should stick with the original.

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939) is a serviceable costume drama. The film may frustrate fans of Errol Flynn, here playing an atypically verbose character. But it's Bette Davis's show all the way, with the legendary star giving the definitive portrayal of Elizabeth I.

England 1595. Queen Elizabeth (Bette Davis) struggles to maintain peace with Spain and suppress a Catholic rebellion in Ireland. But her impetuous favorite, Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex (Errol Flynn) leads an unauthorized attack on Cadiz, earning him popular acclaim. Elizabeth and Essex are dotty over each other, which doesn't sit well with ministers Robert Cecil (Henry Daniell) and Sir Walter Raleigh (Vincent Price). They arrange for Essex's dispatch to Ireland, convincing lady-in-waiting Penelope (Olivia de Havilland), herself attracted to Essex, to intercept his correspondence with Elizabeth. This arrangement leads to Essex's military defeat and incurs Elizabeth's wrath. Essex returns to England with his army, intent on forcing himself back into the Queen's favor.

Despite its ornamental trappings, Private Lives is a talky drama. Based on a Maxwell Anderson play, its intricate court intrigues are competently but not always engagingly staged by Michael Curtiz. Sol Polito's photography is beautiful but the film rarely ventures outdoors, with a few crowd scenes and an unconvincing set standing in for Ireland. Certainly anyone expecting a Flynn swashbuckler will be let down.

Fortunately, the central romance works fine, showing a meeting of two frustratingly disparate lovers. Elizabeth is a proud but insecure woman, who must sublimate her romantic desires to the needs of state. Essex allows his ambition and arrogance to trump his loyalty, giving his rivals ample opportunity to outflank him. When Essex threatens Elizabeth's power she ruthlessly turns on him. With two such personalities clashing, the story can only end in tragedy.

Bette Davis sets the standard for all screen Elizabeths. She's an admirably unglamorous Queen, shaving part of her head and sporting gruesome pancake makeup. More to the point, she perfectly captures Elizabeth's mixture of ruthlessness and romanticism, hauteur and insecurity. It's a marvelous performance that few successors (Glenda Jackson and Helen Mirren perhaps) match.

This is Errol Flynn's most demanding role, a straight dramatic part with no action or derring-do. Flynn occasionally seems out of his depth opposite Davis, but holds his own through sheer charisma. Olivia de Havilland gets saddled with a colorless part, sharing but a single scene with Flynn. Donald Crisp (The Man from Laramie) gets a solid role as Essex's friend Francis Bacon. Henry Daniell (The Sea Hawk) and Vincent Price make fine villains, and Alan Hale is good in a rare straight role.

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex isn't the best work of anyone involved but it's certainly enjoyable enough. As a period romance, one could do worse. And as a portrayal of the Essex Rebellion, well... enough said?

Reconstructing Sir Thomas

I was hoping for a triple-bill of Elizabeth I films this week, but Netflix is being cranky. Instead, I opted to polish off my old review of A Man for All Seasons. That piece used to be an incoherent mess, and hopefully I've made it readable. Typically my pre-2010 reviews are pretty awful, and if time permits I might do it for other favorites. Any comments or constructive criticisms on this score are welcome.

Anonymous

Anonymous (2011) is a truly wretched film. It's bad history, which might be forgivable if it weren't a really, really bad movie as well. Thar be spoilers in this review, but I feel ruining certain twists something akin to a public service.

Turn-of-the-17th Century Tudor England is a hotbed of intrigue. Elizabeth I (Vanessa Redgrave) nears her deathbed, and her minister Robert Cecil (Edward Hogg) schemes to put Scotland's James VI on the English throne. Unfortunately for Cecil, Elizabeth has several bastards, including Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex (Sebastian Reid), with a more direct claim. Through this we're introduced to Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford (Rhys Ifans), who as a young man (Jamie Campbell Bower) romanced Elizabeth (Joely Richardson) and impregnated her. De Vere is also a brilliant playwright, but afraid to publish his own work, he delegates credit to actor Will Shakespeare (Rafe Spall). The two strands intersect when De Vere pens a subversive play (Richard III) that helps inspire the Essex Rebellion, where Essex and his followers attempt to assert their "rightful" claim on the throne.

I don't give the Oxford theory of Shakespeare authorship any credence, since it's based on snobbery (no way a country boy like Shakespeare wrote such great plays) and dot-connecting (hey, Oxford spent time in Italy, ergo he's Shakespeare!) of a JFK conspiracy/9/11 Truther sort rather than actual evidence. That certainly doesn't mean the topic lacks dramatic potential, but it deserves a better shake than Anonymous. I wouldn't worry about the film's possible impact, because it's so outlandish that it discredits itself.

Anonymous is utterly laughable. John Orloff's terrible script juggles lurid melodrama with obtuse characterization, adding a pointless flashback structure on top. The movie strains credulity in too many ways to count; a hilarious scene shows Oxford with Shakespeare's complete works lying around in his office! Characters come and go without explanation: Christopher Marlowe (Trystan Gravelle) only gets a post-mortem identification, and Oxford's mistress isn't even afforded that. Emmerich drags in the Essex Rebellion to muddle things further, but bafflingly makes the Earl a bit player in his own plot. This is Bad Screenwriting 101, folks.

Anonymous will surely drive history buffs into an apopleptic rage. It dredges up the hoary Prince Tudor theory, that Elizabeth pupped out numerous bastards and somehow kept this a secret. But that's mere sensationalism worthy of The Tudors. Emmerich also (major spoiler) posits that Elizabeth slept with her own son and had a child by him. This grotesque distortion requires so much suspension of disbelief that one might as well argue Shakespeare was a Reptilian space alien.

Unfortunately, Anonymous isn't content with being speculative fiction but purports to be a shocking secret history. Emmerich has given several interviews defending the film's premise and amusingly called out historians for criticising him. Unlike Shakespeare in Love, which puts dramatic license at the service of a comedy, Anonymous is in deadly earnest with its nonsense. Fortunately, the movie's disastrous box office take deflated Emmerich's Oliver Stone pretensions.

Emmerich helms a handsome production. The movie certainly looks good in spots, with a mixture of impeccable sets, costumes and well-incorporated CGI. A few set pieces, including several spirited stagings of Shakespeare and Essex's abortive uprising, are competently handled. Then again, a corpse still decomposes no matter how many flowers you place on it.

Surprisingly, Rafe Spall's goofball Shakespeare is the least offensive performance. Rhys Ifans is a boring brooder without a flicker of emotion. Vanessa Redgrave (previously Anne Boleyn and Mary Stuart in other Tudor flicks) seems an ideal Elizabeth but has nothing to work with. Joely Richardson's (The Patriot) awful performance is nothing so much as a bad Cate Blanchett impersonation. David Thewlis and Edward Hogg play the Cecils as one-note turds. Derek Jacobi (Day of the Jackal) disgraces himself with a brief cameo.

Anonymous is a tragic waste of time. Even disregarding its myriad inaccuracies and promotion of specious nonsense, it's just plain trash - a bad film on any level, literary, cinematic or historical.

P.S.: On the off-chance you're inclined to take the film seriously, this site provides a comprehensive debunking of the "controversy." Ron Rosenbaum's Slate piece addresses it more succinctly.

Young Bess

All Young Bess (1953) needed to sell me was casting Jean Simmons as Elizabeth I. Fortunately, the film surrounding Simmons is quite good, a solid take on a bit of Tudor history generally neglected by popular culture.

Upon the death of Henry VIII (Charles Laughton), England falls under the stewardship of child-king Edward VI (Rex Thompson), whose government is ruled by Edward Seymour (Guy Rolfe), Lord Somerset. Princess Elizabeth (Jean Simmons), Edward's sister, remains in the shadows, worried that her descent from the executed Anne Boleyn endangers her. She none-too-discreetly carries on an affair with Thomas Seymour (Stewart Granger), the Lord Protector's brother and an English admiral. The two love each other, but Seymour marries Catherine Parr (Deborah Kerr), Henry's widow, and Elizabeth finds herself targeted by Somerset's scheming.

Young Bess views Elizabeth before she became the "Virgin Queen" of legend. Aside from Tudor Rose and Lady Jane, Edward VI's reign has rarely shown up on film, and Young Bess earns points for showing an England creeping towards modernity, with Edward and Somerset eagerly embracing Protestantism after Henry's hesitant dalliances. Princess Mary is unfairly portrayed as an idiot, and English Catholics get short shrift, but Elizabeth's struggles to land her true love, Edward's religious reforms and the Seymour's Cain-and-Abel rivalry makes for compelling drama. A sumptuous production helmed by George Sidney, Jan Lustig and Arthur Wimperis's smart script and a lavish Miklos Rosza score bring this story to vivid life.

The film's centerpiece, of course, is Jean Simmons's marvelous performance. Even more than Cate Blanchett, she does a superb job depicting the young Elizabeth, impulsive, love struck and vulnerable, but already intelligent, far-sighted and indomitable. Simmons handles her big scenes perfectly, whether professing her love to Seymour or telling off Somerset's kangaroo court. We can ignore Simmons's incorrect hair color when her performance is so good, and when she's ravishing as a brunette.

Stewart Granger (then Simmons's husband) makes a dashing love interest (though much more likeable than the real Seymour). Deborah Kerr (The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp) handles a thankless part well, giving Catherine Parr the right level of gravitas. Groggy favorite Kay Walsh (Oliver Twist) steals her scenes as Elizabeth's lady-in-waiting. Charles Laughton briefly reprises his signature role from The Private Life of Henry VIII twenty years prior. Leo G. Carroll (North by Northwest) has an amusing cameo.

Young Bess is another solid Tudor drama, mixing great performances, smart writing and sumptuous pageantry.

Elizabeth

Queen Elizabeth I is one historical figure well-served by cinema. A plethora of talented stars have provided memorable portrayals of Good Queen Bess: Bette Davis, Flora Robson, Jean Simmons, Glenda Jackson, Judi Dench, Helen Mirren. She's definitely a choice role for actresses, the complex monarch who brought England into the modern era, stared down its enemies, juggled myriad "favorites" and proved a woman could indeed rule with "the heart and stomach of a King."

Then there's Shekhar Kapur's Elizabeth (1998). The film received an armful of Oscar nominations but lost out to another Tudor piece, Shakespeare in Love. It's a mixed bag: visually ravishing and well-acted, but soap operatic and historically suspect. At the very least, it has Cate Blanchett's marvelous performance at its center.

Elizabeth Tudor (Cate Blanchett) lives under house arrest, suspected of treason and heresy by her Catholic sister Queen Mary (Fanny Burke). Elizabeth takes the throne after Mary's death in 1558, and must navigate extremely treacherous waters: the King of Spain and the French Duke of Anjou (Vincent Cassel) want to marry her, Franco-Scottish troops led by Mary of Guise (Fanny Ardant) threaten England's border, Pope Pius (John Gielgud) sanctions her assassination and the Duke of Norfolk (Christopher Eccleston), a Catholic nobleman, plots to seize the throne. She carries on a bold affair with Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (Joseph Fiennes), which earns the disapproval of her chief minister, William Cecil (Richard Attenborough). The initially naive Elizabeth must learn statescraft in a hurry, enlisting the help of her ruthless spymaster Francis Walsingham (Geoffrey Rush) to secure her throne and neutralize her opponents.

No one will mistake Elizabeth for A Man for All Seasons. Writer Michael Hirst went on to create Showtime's The Tudors, which depicted Henry VIII's reign as a soft-core soap opera. Elizabeth has the same MO, amping up the sex, violence, sex, intrigue, sex, speculation, and did I mention sex? Hirst's work titilates its audience with bare chests and heaving bosoms while convincing viewers they're learning something.

History buffs will quibble with more than gratuitous sex. Various anti-Elizabeth plots are conflated together, which is forgivable for dramatic economy. The movie oversells Elizabeth's naivety: surely the "consummate actress" who escaped implication in Thomas Wyatt's plots against Mary wasn't a complete babe in the woods? Additionally, Elizabeth's "Can't we all just get along?" speech during an interrogation is ridiculously anachronistic. Dudley and Cecil are ill-served, with life-long friend Dudley betraying Elizabeth and the ruthless administrator Cecil portrayed as a doddering old man. The movie borders on anti-Catholic, but I'd argue the subject makes it difficult to be otherwise.

Still, Elizabeth has enough virtues to overcome its pulpy nature. If the depiction of events is inaccurate, the complicated conspiracies and plot twists make for gripping, deliciously complex drama. The movie's sense of danger, from the burning of heretics to the endless backroom plots and lurking armies, is palpable from beginning to end. To his credit, Hirst does an excellent job drawing Elizabeth's transformation from waif to ruthless queen, and she's a mostly credible and always compelling protagonist. Elizabeth is certainly more sophisticated than your average bodice-ripper.

Shekhar Kapur's direction is ravishing. He mixes the scope and pageantry of Hollywood epics with the stylization of Indian cinema, making striking use of shadow, color (Elizabeth is constantly shot through "filters" of curtain and fabrics) and impeccable art direction creating a foreboding, gloomy atmosphere. David Hirschfielder's extraordinary score, with heavy use of portentious chorus, adds immeasuribly. A few bits don't come off well: Elizabeth practicing her speech to Parliament is unbearably cheesy, and the plot culminates in a trite Godfather-lite murder montage. Otherwise, it's a first-rate job.

Cate Blanchett is one of Groggy's favorite actresses, and this is among her best performances. Extraordinarily radiant, Blanchett captures Elizabeth's transformation perfectly, giving her the perfect mixture of vulnerability, confusion, dignity and strong will. Blanchett nails all of Elizabeth's sides, whether addressing Parliament, flirting with Dudley or scheming with Cecil and Walsingham. Blanchett reprised her role in 2007's Elizabeth: the Golden Age, but sadly that film was worthless junk.

Geoffrey Rush is superb, exuding craft, quiet menace and twisted Machiavellian genius. Joseph Fiennes has little to do besides smolder and pout. Richard Attenborough (10 Rillington Place) won't make anyone forget Trevor Howard's vicious Cecil in Mary, Queen of Scots. On the flip side, Christopher Eccleston's Norfolk is a bit too obviously evil. An interesting array of actors fill out supporting roles: Kelly Macdonald's (Gosford Park) flirty lady-in-waiting, Daniel Craig's (Munich) demonic assassin, Kathy Burke's (Nil by Mouth) ferocious Mary, Vincent Cassel's (Black Swan) effete Anjou. John Gielgud (Becket) makes his final film appearance as Pope Pius V.

Elizabeth isn't for anyone hoping for a serious history lesson. For those hoping for a sexy, well-plotted period film though, it's definitely worthwhile.

Mary, Queen of Scots

The creators of Anne of the Thousand Days - producer Hal B. Wallis, writer John Hale and director Charles Jarrott - craft another Tudor epic every bit as good as their take on Henry VIII. Helped by a lavish production, sharp script and perfect supporting cast, Vanessa Redgrave and Glenda Jackson bring the two most famous female monarchs in British history - Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, and Elizabeth I of England - to vivid life.

Mary Stuart (Vanessa Redgrave) returns to Scotland after the death of her husband, King Francis of France (Charles Denning) - much to the displeasure of Elizabeth (Glenda Jackson), fearing Mary's claims on the her throne. Mary finds Scotland in a prickly situation - the mostly-Protestant lairds despise her, and her brother James (Patrick McGoohan) is in the pay of Elizabeth's spymaster William Cecil (Trevor Howard) - she's in no position to handle. Her marriage to the headstrong Lord Darnley (Timothy Dalton) only complicates matters. When Mary tries to assert her authority, Darnley throws in with the Scottish nobles, murdering Mary's secretary David Rizzio (Ian Holm). Only with the help of the Earl of Bothwell (Nigel Davenport) does Mary avoid a similar fate, and a counter-plot against Darnley and his suporters backfires. Mary finally takes refuge in England, leaving her at Elizabeth's mercy.

Mary, Queen of Scots avoids the stilted melodrama of John Ford's Mary of Scotland (1936) through its focus on royal politics. A distaff version of Anne of the Thousand Days, noblemen like Darnley and Robert Dudley (David Massey) are used as pawns by their queens and bitterly resent it. Mary's expressions of tolerance and mercy towards her subjects are completely misplaced, earning her contempt rather than love, and her impetuous marriages to Darnley and Bothwell destroy her. Mary's pampered upbringing leaves her with a sense of unearned entitlement, while the shrewd Elizabeth has had to fight for everything and knows how to deal with plots and intrigue. Essentially a contrast in management styles, the film nonetheless shows that Elizabeth's success leave her lonely and barren, ironically elevating Mary's son to the throne.

As expected, Wallis and Jarrott mount an impressive production, with handsome French and Scottish locations and lavish Shepperton sets. John Hale's script is marvelously literate doesn't dumb down the complex wheelings-and-dealings for its audience. John Barry provides one of his best scores, a beautifully regal work that complements perfectly the film's high tragedy.

Vanessa Redgrave is a superlative Mary. She's the right mixture of impulse, charming naivety and subdued haughtiness (not quite arrogance), making Mary a far more compelling heroine than Katherine Hepburn's take. Glenda Jackson, who'd already played Elizabeth in the BBC's Elizabeth R, is equally imposing. Her Elizabeth is a fiery hellcat - especially in her dealings with sometime-lover Dudley - with cruel intelligence and pragmatism tempering her passions: to survive as Anne Boleyn's daughter requires immeasurible skills. The two (fictional) meetings between the Queens are almost superfluous: Mary and Elizabeth make a wonderful pair of off-setting, irreconcilable women, one fit for the throne and the other only fit for heaven.

Complementing Redgrave and Jackson is an impressive array of British talent. Nigel Davenport (A Man for All Seasons) gets one of his biggest and best roles, his Bothwell charming and heroic yet slippery enough to survive English and Scottish scheming. Patrick McGoohan (Braveheart) is suitably devious. Ian Holm (Lord of the Rings) gets a meaty part as Rizzio and Timothy Dalton, fresh off The Lion in Winter, is superb as the simpering, arrogant Darnley. Groggy favorite Trevor Howard (Brief Encounter) gets some choice scenes as Elizabeth's ruthless minister. Familiar faces David Massey (In Which We Serve), Andrew Keir (Lord Jim) and Vernon Dobtchef (The Day of the Jackal) toil in smaller roles.

Mary, Queen of Scots is an all-around wonderful film, a beautiful depiction of two great historical figures and a lavish account of late Tudor England.

Anne of the Thousand Days

This sterling adaptation of Maxwell Anderson's play is one of the few Tudor-related films worth watching. Anne of the Thousand Days (1969) provides both a fine history lesson and a gripping drama, helped along by excellent writing and a near-perfect cast.

Henry VIII (Richard Burton) is angry that his wife, Catherine of Aragon (Irene Papas) is unable to produce a male heir. He becomes infatuated with Anne Boleyn (Genevieve Bujold), the pretty, headstrong daughter of a minor nobleman (Michael Hordern), but finds Anne less than thrilled by his attention - not the least because Henry's minister, Cardinal Wolsey (Anthony Quayle), has refused her request to marry Henry Percy (Terence Wilton). Anne demands Henry annul his marriage to Catherine before submitting to his advances, initiating the "Great Matter" where Catherine's intransigence and the Catholic Church's subservience to Spain lead England to break from Rome. Henry and Anne are finally wed, but Anne proves equally unable to bear a son. With his eye now on demure Jane Seymour (Leslie Paterson), Henry enlists the wholly unscrupulous Thomas Cromwell (John Colicos) to affect Anne's downfall.

A lavish Hal Wallis (Becket) production, Anne of the Thousand Days is a ravishing film to behold. Director Charles Jarrott provides restrained but beautiful direction, helped immeasuribly by Maurice Carter and Lionel Couch's impeccable art direction. Georges Delerue's lively period score is another highlight. But Anne isn't just a bloated costume drama: Bridget Boland and John Hale contribute a script bursting with muscular period dialogue, wit and well-drawn characters that make this messy slice of history understandable and interesting.

Anne's center is a twisted romance with a pre-ordained tragic ending. Anne's intransigence intrigues Henry, and their early scenes crackle with spark and wit. Some of the film's best scenes have the clever Anne outflanking Cardinal Wolsey, unafraid to exercise her sexual hold on the King. But once Henry actually possesses her, Anne's days are numbered. When her position is threatened, Anne becomes believably shrewish, demanding the execution of dissidents like Sir Thomas More (William Squire) and Bishop Fisher (Joseph O'Conor) for questioning her right to rule. The headstrong Anne, forced into a romance she didn't want, and the capricious Henry, ruled by a wandering eye and tempestuous emotions, are a match made in hell.

Unlike other takes on the subject (The Tudors, The Other Boleyn Girl), Anne never degenerates into mere soap opera through the quality of writing and characterization. Henry and Anne's romance is the main subject, but the political and religious upheaval resulting from their doomed love affair is given full breadth. A centuries-old clerical system is uprooted, England's political system revolutionized, and the body count is staggeringly high. It's easy to argue that the English Reformation did much good, allowing England to flower through increased independence, but Henry's reasons for affecting the break are supremely selfish - all for a romance that will dissipate at earliest convenience.

Anne's biggest fault is a rushed second act, which hurries through Anne's reign with undue dispatch. This is redeemed by some powerfully-staged scenes, like More's execution and especially Anne's final confrontation with Henry, but the movie ends with a leaden clunk, as Anne's monologue is echoed in narration as we see Princess Elizabeth toddling about. Yeah, Elizabeth will be Queen one day - we get it.

Genevieve Bujold is by far the best screen portrayal of Anne Boleyn. While many films portray her as a scheming bitch queen (looking at you, Natalie Dormer), Bujold's Anne is an intensely sympathetic character. Trapped by her relatives and ensnared by Henry, Anne refuses to bend to his will, engaging him in verbal one-upsmanship and taking full advantage of Henry's infatuations: if the King wants her, it will be on Anne's terms. Only after they're married does Anne fall for the King, and by then it's too late. Bujold's sensitive, layered performance maintains the audience's sympathy throughout: we tear up at her tragic monologue recounting her "thousand days," and cheer when she bitterly tells Henry off in their last confrontation.

Opposite Bujold, Richard Burton gives one of his best performances. Burton was never a subtle actor but his hammy stylings fit Henry perfectly. Besides a passible physical resemblance, Burton wonderfully embodies the capricious, hot-tempered monarch and bites off Boland and Hale's meaty dialogue with gusto. Aside from Robert Shaw in A Man for All Seasons and Keith Michell in The Six Wives of Henry VIII, he's one of the best screen Henries.

The film benefits greatly from a stellar supporting cast. Anthony Quayle (Lawrence of Arabia) got a well-deserved Oscar nod for his tragic portrayal of Cardinal Wolsey, far more sympathetic than his usual showing as an arrogant, greedy schemer. John Colicos's (Battlestar Galactica) shifty fly-on-the-wall Cromwell makes a suitably devious antagonist, and Michael Hordern (Royal Flash) is dryly amusing as Anne's scheming dad. Dependable pros William Squire (Where Eagles Dare), T.P. McKenna (Straw Dogs), Esmond Knight (A Canterbury Tale) and Vernon Dobtchef (The Day of the Jackal) also make impressions. Only the awkwardly-cast Irene Papas (The Guns of Navarone) is disappointing.

Anne of the Thousand Days is one of the best Tudor-related films to date. With its skillful mixture of romance, political drama and period detail, it comes highly recommended.

The Sea Hawk

In the '30s and early '40s, Michael Curtiz and Errol Flynn were a dream team, producing some of Hollywood's best Golden Age action films: Captain Blood, The Charge of the Light Brigade, The Adventures of Robin Hood. These lightweight but lavish costume epics make for thrilling entertainment, with lavish sets and costumes, witty screenplays, meticulously-staged swordfights and Eric Wolfgang Korngold's rousing music.

The Sea Hawk (1940) is an entertaining film, but not one of the better Curtiz-Flynn collaborations. Released at the height of the Battle of Britain, its paralleling Elizabethan England to World War II America is unmistakable and makes it more than just a stylish swashbuckler. It's a reasonably entertaining film that suffers from an uneven pace and some heavy-handed political content.

It's 1585, and Spanish King Phillip II (Montagu Love) is preparing his Spanish Armada to subjugate England. His new ambassador, Don de Cordoba (Claude Rains), and his niece Maria (Brenda Marshall) are intercepted during his voyage to London by privateer Geoffrey Thorpe (Errol Flynn), a gallant captain waging covert war with Spain with the tacit approval of Queen Elizabeth (Flora Robson). Thorpe falls for Maria, but before their romance can blossom he sets sail for Panama to raid Spanish treasure ships. Unfortunately, he's been betrayed by Lord Wolfingham (Henry Daniell), a treacherous member of Elizabeth's court, and Thorpe and his crew are press-ganged as slaves for the Spanish fleet. Thorpe must escape and get back to England to expose Wolfingham's perfidy, warn Elizabeth of the impending Spanish invasion - and get the girl, of course.

The Sea Hawk retains most of the humor, frivolity and cheerful anarchy common to these films. "It would be just like those Spaniards to surrender and spoil our fun," sneers a pirate before the curtain-raising battle scene. The excellent sea battles and swordfights are staged at a pure fantasy level, and these bits are nothing short of exhilarating. However, the film has pretensions to topicality and seriousness that undermine the cheeriness a bit.

The movie's politics are rather obvious, giving The Sea Hawk a more pointed edge than its peers. King Phillip is a power-mad egomaniac with a world map painted in his office (recalled in the Pirates of the Caribbean films), dreaming of global Spanish hegemony. Elizabeth and her advisors publicly try to keep peace, with Flynn's gang an Elizabethian Eagle Squadron fighting evil on their own initiative. The dastardly Wolfingham is not a misguided conservative but actively allied with the Spaniards. Tellingly, the film ends with Elizabeth's pre-battle soliloquy rather than the Armada battle itself, a stirring cry for the defense of freedom: the real battle is yet to be fought.

Dramatically, The Sea Hawk is a mixed bag. Because of its thematic baggage, the film is very talky, with Flynn and his co-stars having to navigate long swaths of dense dialogue, from political speeches to exposition. These lengthy debates and speeches, and a long digression in Panama drag the film to a crawl in spots. The middle third seems to drag on forever, though the action picks up in time for the rousing finale. Still, compared to the brisk pacing and breakneck action of, say, The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Sea Hawk is slow and uneven.

Behind the camera, Curtiz is as good as ever, and despite a lack of Technicolor it's certainly a beautiful and visually captivating film. The battle scenes are rousing and well-staged, with appropriate scope and excitement. The highlight is the climactic duel between Thorpe and Wolfington, an intricately-staged, thrilling set-piece that may well be the best swordfight in film history. Anton Grot delivers remarkable set design and costuming, and it wouldn't be a Curtiz film without a beautiful Korngold score.

Errol Flynn is in top form, as chivalrous, witty and heroic as ever. Brenda Marshall is fine replacement for Olivia de Havilland, and Flora Robson (55 Days at Peking) makes a wonderfully regal and commanding Queen Bess. The supporting cast is made up of dependable Warner Bros. stock actors: Claude Rains (Casablanca) and Henry Daniell as slimy villains, Alan Hale (The Adventures of Robin Hood) as Flynn's sidekick, Donald Crisp (The Man From Laramie) as a sympathetic nobleman and Una O'Connor (The Informer) in comic relief. Other familiar faces like Whit Bissell (The Magnificent Seven), Edgar Buchanan (Ride the High Country) and Gilbert Roland (The Furies) can be spotted in bit parts.

The Sea Hawk is worthwhile, even if it's far from a masterpiece. Bogged down a bit by topical" concerns, it's still respectable matinee entertainment.

Mary of Scotland

Today's John Ford flick is an odd entry in the director's CV. Mary of Scotland (1936) is a rather typical Hollywood period piece/star vehicle for Katharine Hepburn. It's an interesting movie in some ways, not least the subject matter, but it's also uneven and stuffy, struggling to retain dramatic tension and casting Hepburn in a role she's ill-suited for.

Mary Stuart (Katharine Hepburn) returns from exile in France to her native Scotland, taking the throne from her duplicitous brother (Ian Keith). Mary's Catholic policies prove unpopular, particularly as reform minister John Knox (Moroni Olsen) preaches fire-and-brimstone disapproval of Mary's rule. Mary is pushed to marry the effette Lord Darnley (Douglas Walton), rather than her true love, the dashing Earl of Bothwell (Frederic March). Mary's arrival also earns the ire of Elizabeth of England (Florence Eldridge), who fears Mary's claim to the English throne. The two factions of the Scottish court clash, and the murders of Mary's secretary Rizzio (John Carradine) by one faction and Darnley by the other, Scotland descends into civil war.

Working off a play by Maxwell Anderson (also behind the superb Anne of the Thousand Days), Ford and writer Dudley Nicholls do a creditable job of keeping the complex inter-clan squabbles of Mary's court comprehensible, and the material is somewhat interesting in and of itself. But the movie moves in fits and starts, never generating much dramatic tension and only sporadically generating interest. Mary is completely passive, saintly (by Ford and Nicholls' reckoning) but uninteresting, and her fate seems avoidable rather than tragic. The film sticks fairly close to historical facts, but Nicholl's stuffy, unimaginative script will keep any but the most fervent Tudor buff uninvolved in Mary's plight. Ford's direction is competent, but aside from a few neat flourishes (particularly Rizzio's murder and the beautiful execution sequence) unremarkable and stagey.

The casting of Katharine Hepburn as Mary is downright perplexing. Kate gives the part her all, imputing Mary with gravitas and tragic dignity, but her assertive persona and acting style is ill-suited for the passive Mary, described as "a creature of passions" by the script. One can see Hepburn jumping at the part as an effort to expand her acting range, but she can't quite overcome the limitations of Mary's part and largely undercuts her characterization as a sensual, flighty woman. Someone was missing a bet in not casting her as Elizabeth.

Hepburn's supporting cast is hit-or-miss. Frederic March (The Best Years of Our Lives) is surprisingly stiff and has little chemistry with his leading lady. Florence Eldridge's catty portrayal of Elizabeth is wonderfully unique, turning the usually-regal monarch into a jealous, combative woman. Ian Keith, Moroni Olsen and get meaty supporting parts, but Ford regulars John Carradine and Donald Crisp are relegated to peripheral roles.

Mary of Scotland is worth a look for Ford and Hepburn fans, but it's far from either's best work and is more interesting than good.

A Man for All Seasons

Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons is one of the greatest plays of the 20th Century. Bolt's witty, insightful and moving portrayal of Sir Thomas More's stand against the English Reformation has a timeless universality, as evidenced by its frequent revivals (most recently with Frank Langella) and perennial popularity. Men of principle never go out of style, and along with Jean Anouilh's Becket and Arthur Miller's The Crucible, Man remains just as powerful as the day it was written.

Fred Zinnemann's 1966 movie is a fine adaptation. Bolt adapts his own work for the screen, streamlining its more theatrical elements but keeping its message and power intact. Zinnemann's sumptuous pageantry certainly makes things cinematic. But the film would be nothing without Paul Scofield, reprising his Tony Award-winning stage performance to immaculate effect.

Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield) is a scholar, author, devout Catholic, devoted family man and friend of England's Henry VIII (Robert Shaw). Henry seeks a divorce from Catherine of Aragon so he can marry Anne Boleyn (Vanessa Redgrave), but the Pope refuses to grant it - leading to Henry's fateful schism with Rome. More becomes Chancellor after the death of Cardinal Wolsey (Orson Welles), but cannot reconcile his faith with Henry's actions. After More's resignation, Henry sics ruthless hatchet man Thomas Cromwell (Leo McKern) on him. Cromwell does everything to bring More to heel, using his friend Norfolk (Nigel Davenport) to provide friendly pressure and changing the law to criminalize More's dissent. But More is immovable, forcing Cromwell to rely on the ambitious Richard Rich (John Hurt) to bring about More's downfall.

Way back in high school I read Man for an English class. Since then I've read the play dozens of times, even performing bits of it in drama classes. It's a brilliant piece of work, from Bolt's elegant verbal architecture to the perfectly drawn characters. Admittedly not the most morally complex work, its power lies in its directness and universality. The play is smart without being self-impressed, accessible without indulging in anachronism, simple yet profound.

Man portrays Sir Thomas More as the ultimate man of conscience. No pressure, no argument can shake his devotion; he can answer any debate, is indifferent to his Earthly fate, and even his family loses out to his worship of God. He is understanding when his friends and family refuse to support him; he passes no judgment on his wife (Wendy Hiller) and daughter (Susannah York), or his friend Norfolk, for bending to the King's will. His struggle is an entirely personal one: "I have no window into another man's conscience. I condemn no one." More's persecution belies Cromwell's pretensions to justice, as "a state that was half-good" couldn't conceivably view him as an enemy.

Historians not unreasonably object to this view of More, who harshly repressed Lutherans while serving as Chancellor. Bolt, the socialist playwright, depicts More as a very 20th Century intellectual dissident, finding solace in "himself" rather than Catholic dogma. Beyond complaining about historical inaccuracy, some critics even view Man as Catholic propaganda, promoting what historian Richard Marius terms the Church's "overblown tyranny" and institutional corruption over Tudor reforms.

Focusing on the religious aspect misses the point. Bolt prefers the universality of More's predicament: Who among us hasn't been forced to had to compromise their beliefs? Bolt's More is a beautifully-realized protagonist, a man of integrity rather than expedience. He's an idol for anyone who's been forced to choose between a job, opportunity or relationship and their conscience. Certainly one wishes More's view that political amorality "leads [a] country by a short route to chaos" had a wider audience!


Bolt uses the supporting cast to highlight More's morality. The capricious Henry wishes to overturn centuries of law and tradition for an ephemeral flirtation. Norfolk joins Henry without a moment's thought; he can't see why More chooses spiritual matters over temporal. (Oddly the film overlooks Norfolk's relationship to Anne Boleyn!) Cromwell's blind loyalty to Henry overwhelms moral considerations, while Rich's power-hunger trumps all. These insecure, flawed men desire More's approval, which itself would legitimize their cause. His very silence rebukes the King's actions; when More won't support them, he must be destroyed.

Bolt's adaptation jettisons some of the play's complexity. Supporting characters are drawn more broadly and certain scenes don't play as strongly on film (namely Cromwell's "seduction" of Rich) as a result. The play's "Common Man," a Brechtian narrator who assays various minor parts, is excised for obvious reasons. Spanish Ambassador Chapuys is similarly lost. But the meat of the story remains, in its protagonist, themes and powerful dialogue: "When you are sent to Heaven for doing your conscience and I am sent to Hell for not doing mine, will you come with me for fellowship?"

Fred Zinnemann opens the story up just enough to be cinematic, granting the characters and dialogue center stage. Zinnemann makes striking use of water imagery, particularly the scenes of More rowing down the Thames River, serving to illustrate More's changing status and the inconstancy of Henry's court. John Box's gorgeous production design (most of the locations are actually Shepperton sets), Joan Bridge and Jackie Cumming's striking costumes, and Ted Moore's wonderful cinematography are absolutely beautiful. Georges Delerue contributes a nice period score.

Paul Scofield was a brilliant stage actor with few film apperances (The Train). Scofield is a brilliantly subtle actor, with his rich voice and expressive eyes, giving a performance that's both theatrical and intimate at once. He conveys every line, gesture and glance with perfection, calm and reserved when needed, loud and commanding when called for. It is a peerless performance; rarely was an Oscar more deserved, even against stiff competition like Richard Burton and Steve McQueen.


Wendy Hiller (Pygmalion) is wonderful as More's wife, alternating between exasperation and devotion to her man. Susannah York (Tunes of Glory) gets the big emotional scenes pleading her father to see reason. Leo McKern (Ryan's Daughter) infuses Cromwell with a coarse charm that makes him all the more hateful. A young John Hurt (V For Vendetta) perfectly captures Rich's ambition, and Nigel Davenport (A High Wind in Jamaica) provides some welcome humor as Norfolk.

Robert Shaw's boisterous Henry and Orson Welles's devious Wolsey make such strong impressions that one forgets their minimal screen time. Corin Redgrave (The Charge of the Light Brigade), Colin Blakeley (Saturday Night and Sunday Morning), Jack Gwillim (Lawrence of Arabia) and Cyril Luckham (Anne of the Thousand Days) play supporting roles. Vanessa Redgrave cameos as Anne Boleyn.

Whatever losses occurred in the adaptation, A Man for All Seasons remains a powerful, beautifully-made drama.

Tudor Mania!

Ah, the Tudors. One of the most infamous royal dynasties in the history of the world. We all know at least the general outline of the story, of King Henry and his six wives, his insatiable search for a male heir which tore England asunder, seperated it from Rome and established it as a truly independent entity for the first time. The King is complemented by a cast of colorful characters - the dignified Catholic intellectual Sir Thomas More, the scheming Boleyns, the crooked Cardinal Wolsey, the bullying administrator Thomas Cromwell, the dithering eclesiastic Hamlet Thomas Cranmer, and the slippery, loathsome Richard Rich, and not even to mention his very distinct wives - which makes his reign even more interesting. And of course, we culminate with Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen, who ruled England for almost fifty years and cemented its place as a world power. In between are Edward VI, the boy king who died at 15, the tragic Lady Jane Grey, who ruled England for nine days, and Mary and her ferocious Catholic counter-revolution. All of these individuals are fascinating, and show why history doesn't have to be a boring succession of names and dates. Interest in the Tudors rarely wanes, and with good reason: There's enough politics, backstabbing, sex and violence in the Tudor dynasty to fill an encyclopedia - and I've no doubt it has.

It's no surprise then, that Tudors have been the subject of innumerable films, from Alexander Korda's The Private Life of Henry VIII and The Sea Hawk with Errol Flynn, to recent works such as The Other Boleyn Girl, Showtime's The Tudors, and the Elizabeth films.

Inspired by my viewing of several Tudor-related films in the past few weeks, here is an overview of some of the more notable Tudor films - i.e., ones that I've seen. You will notice this is far from a comprehensive list, but it should provide you with a good starting point.

The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933)

This is one of the first films to deal with the Tudors, and the one which set the precedent for an entire century of popular depictions of Henry and the Tudor era. It is here that we see the depiction of Henry as a larger-than-life (in more ways than one) monster, large, capricious, lascivious, gnawing messily on chicken legs and casually ordering the deaths of his wives. The film has undoubtedly dated, and as a work of history; but it still manages to be an entertaining film on the whole.

This movie is a mixture of period piece and bawdy comedy of manners. It's a satire of Tudor court mores, showing the hypocritical, capricious single-mindedness of Henry's reign. It does an excellent job of showing Henry's larger-than-life nature and how he personified and embodied England - best exemplified in a brilliant scene where Henry's laughter slowly spreads through his vast household, and out into the streets. It's often forgotten that Henry was loved by the English public. The film treats the main issue of Henry's reign is that he was a pig, rather than any sort of tyrant. And that's simply inexcusable.

Charles Laughton provides his dramatic weight (okay, enough fat jokes!) and propensity for boisterous comedy, and gives a memorable portrayal of Henry. While Katherine of Aragon is omitted from the story line for being a "respectable woman" and thus without interest, and Anne Boleyn (a pre-stardom Merle Oberon), Jane Seymour (Wendy Barrie) and Katherine Parr (Everly Gregg) are given only a brief grab of screen time, Binnie Barnes gives a fine performance as Katharine Howard, the naive young girl who finds herself the object of Henry's fatal attraction - and her relationship with the dashing Thomas Culpepper (a rather dull Robert Donat) proves her downfall. The best of the wives, however, is Elsa Lanchester (Laughton's real-life wife), who provides a few hilarious scenes as a wonderfully ditzy Anne of Cleves. It's not very good history, but as entertainment it works pretty well.

7/10

The Sea Hawk (1940)

Directed by Michael Curitz (Casablanca), The Sea Hawk is an entertaining swashbuckler with Erroll Flynn in top form as Captain Thorpe, a British privateer in the employ of Queen Elizabeth (Flora Robeson), who takes on the Spanish Navy in the lead-in to the attack of the Spanish Armada. Full of lots of adventure, action, and intrigue, it holds up reasonably well in spite of a rather slow pace (and an atrocious print I watched on TCM). The climactic sword fight between Flynn and Henry Daniell as the treacherous Lord Wolfingham is among the best of its kind. Flora Robeson gives a strong, dignified performance as Elizabeth - a strong ruler, the traditional portrait of "Old Queen Bess", who nonetheless has a soft-spot for the dashing Thorpe. Claude Rains and Henry Daniell are excellent villains, and the beautiful Brenda Marshall is a lovely love interest. The film's biggest flaw is the anti-climactic ending, though considering the movie was meant in no small part as an allegory for the then-current World War II (with Elizabeth's rousing speech in favor of freedom and self-determination), it was probably a deliberate choice by the film makers - the real fight is still ahead.

Rating: 7/10

A Man for All Seasons (1966)

Next is Fred Zinnemann's A Man for All Seasons, one of my all-time favorite movies. Based on Robert Bolt's brilliant play, it examines Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield)'s opposition to Henry's break with the Catholic Church, which ultimately led to his execution. Bolt's themes of integrity and self-hood come through with stark clarity, due to the amazing subtlety of Paul Scofield's performance. Rarely has an actor ever dominated a film so fully, but Scofield does it with subtle underplaying and dignity rather than ham-acting or stark emotion. This is, quite simply, acting at its finest, and he's helped immeasuribly by Bolt's thoughtful screenplay, which is witty and intelligent without being obnoxious about it (cf. The Lion in Winter, Amadeus).

Robert Shaw is Henry VIII, and although I'm missing Charles Laughton and Keith Michell's much-acclaimed interpretations, he is by far the best of the Henrys here-mentioned, even though he has only about ten minutes of screen time. He catches Henry's capricious nature perfectly as he attempts to persuade More to support the annulment of his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. One second a laughing, warm friend, the next a bellowing tower of rage, Shaw is a perfect encapsulation of the monster that was Henry. Vanessa Redgrave's cameo as Anne Boleyn is quite lovely; perhaps someone should have thought to cast Shaw and Redgrave as the pair in their own movie.

The movie is handsomely mounted, capturing the pomp and pageantry of Henry's reign. Zinnemann's handsome, straight-forward direction works wonders here, so we focus on the characters and to a lesser extent the scenery rather than fancy camera angles. The supporting cast is marvellous: a huge Orson Welles as the devious Wolsey, Leo McKern as the hateful Cromwell, a very young John Hurt as the easily corrupted Richard Rich, Nigel Davenport as the blustering Duke of Norfolk, Wendy Hiller as More's shrewish wife Alice, and the lovely Susannah York as More's devoted daughter. It's a brilliant film, and anyone who enjoys great drama should see it ASAP.

Rating: 9/10

Anne of the Thousand Days (1968)

Charles Jarrott's "Anne of the Thousand Days" (based on a play by Maxwell Anderson) is a solid re-telling of the love affair that shook the world, and gets points for portraying an extremely sympathetic Anne Boleyn (Genevieve Bujold). Anne is fiery, headstrong, dignified, and yet, unlike many Annes, capable of love and tenderness as well - her conflicted feelings towards Henry are extremely believable and make the character that much more endearing. Many future films would portray Anne as a scheming bitch from Hell, so it's refreshing to see another take on the character. Bujold is beautiful and perfectly captures the spirit of this Anne, making her a sympathetic character whether she's standing up to the King, manipulating him against his advisors, professing her love to Henry, becoming increasingly shrewish and paranoid as she falls out of favor, or telling him off as he demands to know if Cromwell's concoted charges against her are true. You go, girl.

On the other end of the spectrum, Richard Burton (an actor I'm not inordinately fond of) gives one of his better performances as Henry; besides a passable physical resemblance, he sinks his teeth into Bridget Boland and John Hale's muscular, witty script, and, like Shaw, is able to convincingly convey Henry as a man of extremes, with very little in-between. The scenes of these two great actors bantering provides endless entertainment.


Burton and Bujold are backed up by a fine supporting cast, particularly the perpetually underrated Anthony Quayle as an unusually sympathetic Wolsey, John Colicos as a devious fly-on-the-wall Cromwell, and William Squire as a dignified More. The only real flaw is Irene Papas, who is badly miscast as Katherine of Aragon (when will film makers learn Katherine was NOT a dark-haired Latin?). This plethora of generally well-fleshed out and interesting characters provide an appropriate historical context for the events going on the foreground; although the focus of the film is the fractious relationship between Henry and Anne, it maintains a context and never degenerates to the level of soap opera.


The film's only major flaw is its rushed second act; after Anne's marriage, things just seem to occur, one after another. Henry and Anne's falling out isn't a gradual occurrence, but rather seems to happen almost the moment they are wed. The movie redeems itself with an electricfying final confrontation between Henry and Anne in the Tower of London - but then it caps it off with a clunk by repeating Anne's big speech over a shot of baby Elizabeth toddling through the courtyard. Fail. But everything leading up to that point is lavish, well-made history for the masses, and as such it's extremely entertaining.

Rating: 8/10

Blackadder II (1986)

The second of the four Blackadder series, II completely re-invents the series by turning the idiotic Prince Edmund (Rowan Atkinson) into a witty, intelligent, and hopelessly arrogant and cynical nobleman who is struggling to climb the social ladder in Elizabethian England - aided and hampered by his subhuman servant Baldrick (Tony Robinson) and the marginally more intelligent Lord Percy (Tim McInnerny). Rowan Atkinson sheds the idiotic Mr. Bean persona and creates a wonderfully nasty yet sympathetic character who always has something clever and mean to say. The show is one of the greatest comedies in TV history, with its share of classic moments - from the dim-witted but unbelievably handsome adventurer Lord Flasheart (Rik Mayall), to Percy's ridiculous ruff, Edmund impersonating an executed nobleman, the baby-eating Bishop of Bath and Wells (Ronald Lacey), and the infamous "Beer" party - and a lot of literary references (particularly Shakespeare in this series) for the more intelligent viewer to enjoy.

Miranda Richardson is hysterical as "Queenie", an extremely unique portrayal of the Virgin Queen. Instead of the regal, dignified ruler we're used to seeing, we get a hysterical, childish, capricious and naughty character who would rather play practical jokes than do anything remotely productive. Assisted by her arrogant Chancellor Melchett (Stephen Fry) and the insane Nursey (Patsy Byrne), she exists primarily to torment Blackadder, foil his ambitions, and occasionally flirt with him. Fortunately for England, in the series finale she (along with the rest of the cast) is murdered by the scheming Prince Ludwig (Hugh Laurie, who would become a regular in the last two seasons), putting a dignified, intelligent, and competent - if sexually ambiguous - ruler on the throne. At least we know now why Elizabeth was a virgin...

Rating: 10/10

Lady Jane (1986)

Directed by Trevor Nunn (who's made his fair share of Shakespeare adaptations), Lady Jane is a costume drama about one of the most tragic events in English history. Lady Jane Grey (Helena Bonham Carter) was a well-educated 15 year old girl, a distant relative of Henry's, who ascended to the throne through the scheming of her Protestant relatives after the death of Edward VI. She ruled for nine days before being ousted by Mary's Catholic forces, and along with her young husband Guillford Dudley (Cary Elwes), they were executed shortly thereafter.

The movie deals with an interesting subject, but for some reason it never takes off. It features a number of flaws, including a sluggish pace and an ugly, excessively dark and murky color palette. Damn the '80s. Bonham Carter, a teenager herself at the time, is excellent, lovely and charming as the naive, romantic girl in way over her head, and Elwes complements her well. The supporting cast is merely adequate, and most of the film's important events take place off-screen - something which is almost always fatal in a film like this. As appealing a couple as Carter and Elwes are, we never really get worked up about their plight. It's very "handsome" (I guess, but not really), historically accurate (although in and of itself that's not much of a virtue), and, sadly, a bit of a disappointment.

Rating: 6/10

Elizabeth (1998)

Shekhar Kapur's Elizabeth is, first and foremost, a gorgeous film to behold. Kapur's directorial style is dazzling, with astonishing use of light, color and costume to create a foreboding atmosphere, building until the final scene where Elizabeth enters court, triumphantly remade as the Virgin Queen - and setting the stage for a bad sequel.

Cate Blanchett is a fabulous Elizabeth. Her character is a fascinating creation; very intelligent, knowledgable, and having lived with threat of execution by her sister Mary (Kathy Burke) for years, she knows the value of information and public image. But we get to see a young Elizabeth, enraptured by the handsome Robert Dudley (Joseph Fiennes) and more than happy to indulge her base desires above all else. It's up to her advisors, William Cecil (Richard Attenborough) and Francis Walsingham (Geoffrey Rush) to show her where her true interests lie; and Elizabeth must learn quickly, through a trial-by-fire, as she is under siege from all corners.

The movie conveys the fascinating nature of Tudor politics; Elizabeth's claim to the throne is contested from pretty much all corner; the French Queen Mary of Guise (Fanny Ardant) has designs on the throne and establishes herself in Scotland; English Catholics, led by the Duke of Norfolk (Christopher Eccleston) plot against her; the Vatican, personified by John Gielgud's Pope and a pre-James Bond Daniel Craig as a demonic assassin, sanctions her assassination; and Spain, France, and other countries try to marry her in order to rule England by proxy. These various plot threads interweve perfectly, creating a mesmerizing tableau of intrigue and suspense; it's up to Walsingham, the slippery, seemingly omnipotent spy-master played brilliantly by Geoffrey Rush, to deal with these intrigues. In order to survive in this climate, one must be devious, strong, intelligent, clever, and wholly unscrupulous. And by the end, Elizabeth falls under all of those categories. Although a bit long and historically suspect, Elizabeth is a fine film and it gets my whole-hearted recommendation.

Rating: 8/10

Shakespeare in Love (1998)

It's perhaps a mite misleading to count this a "Tudor film", since it's not at all about the Tudors, but rather a heavily fictionalized account of William Shakespeare (Joseph Fiennes)'s efforts to write and perform "Romeo and Juliet" (or rather, "Romeo and Ethel, the Pirate's Daughter") while wooing Viola de Lesseps (Gwenyth Paltrow), a lovely London lass who cross-dresses in order to become an actor. It's a very good romantic comedy that admittedly gets a lot of mileage out of its premise, with a lot of historical and Shakespearean inside jokes that will appeal to the more literary-minded. Judi Dench has a fun cameo as an older, presumably wiser Queen Elizabeth than Cate Blanchett's above model. Fiennes and Paltrow make a lovely couple, and the fun supporting cast includes Geoffrey Rush, Rupert Everett and Colin Firth.

Rating: 8/10

The Tudors (2007-)

The most precise description of Showtime's "The Tudors" is a classy guilty pleasure. The show is quite unapologetic about being a feverish melodrama, bordering on soap opera; the series features lots of sex, a fair amount of violence, and plays up the sensationalistic angles of history whenever it possibly can (if there's even a rumor that x-character was gay, committed adultery, or was responsible for some sort of intrigue or murder, then its here). Written by Michael Hirsch, who penned the Elizabeth films, The Tudors plays fast and loose with historical facts, while ramping up the sex and violence. The show's first few episodes, indeed, provide little more than awkward stage setting, with Henry screwing a seemingly never-ending line of mistresses and Gabriele Anwar's "Princess Margaret", Henry's sister (an amalgamation of Henry's sisters Mary and Margaret), who in the show's worst episode, is married off to the King of Portugal and kills him in his sleep - as well as a lot of superfluous side characters, like musician Thomas Tallis, whose connection to the main story is virtually non-existant. By the time the King becomes infatuated with Anne Boleyn, and the "Great Matter" gets under way, the show kicks into high gear, and the high drama of Anne's reign certainly upped the ante in Season 2, leading to some genuinely powerful and affective moments.

Jonathan Rhys-Meyers is a truly bizarre choice as Henry. Very thin and rather short, he looks like pretty much no one's idea of Henry. The effect is quite bizarre; refusing to alter his appearance in any way, even as Henry gets older, Rhys-Meyers is hopeless on the physical count, and his portrayal of Henry as a whining, arrogant rock star is even more disconcerting. Even more egregious is Natalie Dormer, who plays Anne as the aforementioned bitch from Hell, as much sinner and sinned against, a sultry temptress who forces Henry to purge himself of his queen and trusted advisors. Since these are our two leads, their not being up to par is certainly a major flaw.

The supporting cast is a mixed bag. Arguably the standout performance is Jeremy Northam's layered and complex Thomas More. He's very much the man of dignity as in A Man for All Seasons, but here he's also a borderline fanatic in practicing his Catholicism, overseeing the execution of convicted Lutherans. Also stealing the show are Sam Neill as the devious Cardinal Wolsey, and Maria Doyle Kennedy, as a lovely, dignified and extremely sympathetic Katherine, stealing every scene she's in. Callum Blue and Henry Cavill are pretty bad as some of the show's tertiary characters. James Frain is good as a fairly sympathetic Cromwell, although Hans Matheson is unremarkable (and rather miscast, it would seem) as Archbishop Cranmer. And Peter O'Toole is a treat as the deviously corrupt Pope, who contributes a few scenes per episode in Season 2 and provides some wonderfully dry, dark humor as only he can.

And yet the show, by the virtue of its format, manages to transcend its tendency towards excess. The length and duration of the seasons allows issues to be explored; we are able to see the affects of Anne's reign in decent detail. Issues such as the Reformation and schism with Rome, the Act of Succession, and the aforementioned supporting characters are given enough screen time to convey the complexity, intrigues, and importance of the time period. If the show lingers a bit long on the sex and tortures and violence, we at least get a good sense as to why it's happening. Although historically inaccurate to the extreme, and with excess that frequently borders on camp, The Tudors is a reasonably enjoyable show for the none-too-discerning history buff.

Rating: 7/10

Elizabeth: the Golden Age (2007)

The follow-up to 1998 Elizabeth promises a brilliant film. With much of the same cast and the same director, we continue with the story of Elizabeth: the Spanish Armada is preparing to invade, the English Catholics are plotting again, Mary Queen of Scots (Samantha Morton) wants the throne, and Elizabeth is involved in a love triangle with dashing explorer Sir Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen) and one of her servants (Abbie Cornish). With such a combination, how could you possibly fail to make a good movie?

Well, try asking Shekhar Kapur, for that's exactly what happens here. Elizabeth: the Golden Age is a boring slog with only a few redeeming features, most notably Cate Blanchett's brilliant portrayal of Elizabeth, showing what affect suppressing her desires and previous nature has wrought. But a great performance does not alone make a great film, and in the case of this movie, it's the saving grace.

Whereas the multi-faceted plot of the original proved fascinating, here it just results on a convoluted, incomprehensible slog. Far too much time is spent in the historically improbable and soap opera-ish love triangle, which might not be so bad if the other aspects were well-done. We don't even get a good introduction to the Catholic conspiracy at all; and Mary Queen of Scots, although gamely played by Samantha Morton, is quite frankly uninteresting shut up in her prison, given no hint of her rivalry with Elizabeth. Most egregious is the hideous stereotyping of Spain's King Phillip II, whose dialogue consists almost entirely of decrying Elizabeth as evil - at one point he declares, "Elizabeth is the darkness - I am the light!" All that's missing are the Snidley Whiplash mustache twirl and the stock maniacal laughter.

The movie is admittedly visually splendid, culminating in an astonishing sequence where Elizabeth glows an immaculate white while being decried as a whore. But pretty pictures do not make for a good movie, and all of the fancy camera shots, brilliant lighting and sumptuous costumes do little to alleviate to the convoluted, boring plot. And after hours and hours of build-up to an epic climax, what do we get when the Spanish Armada finally shows up on England's shores? A few shots of CGI ships exploding, and a horse swimming through the wreckage of the fleet. Pathetic.

Rating: 5/10

The Other Boleyn Girl (2008)

Based on Phillipe Gregory's novel, The Other Boleyn Girl is basically a feminist (or at least feminized) take on Anne Boleyn (Natalie Portman), with her sister Mary (Scarlett Johansson) thrown in for good measure. Like The Tudors, it is a lavishly made historical soap opera (with astonishing cinematography and ravishing costumes); but it lacks the context and depth that redeems most of The Tudors' sins, and as a result it's a seriously flawed film.

The approach the film takes is certainly worthwhile. Focusing as it does on Anne and Mary, the story gains interest by making the Boleyn girls the victims of their family's unscrupulous ambitions; in an age when women had no rights, how could it be otherwise? The film does a great job setting up this story, and the putative rivalry between Anne and Mary, but any conflict that might have developed fizzles out in the second half, which is ridiculously fast-paced and rushed - and this time, we lack much anything in the way of historical or political context, even as pertains to Anne. Did Anne play a part, or even have interest in Church reform and Lutheranism? You wouldn't know from watching this film. As in Anne of the Thousand Days, the film falls apart after the marriage - and here, it's exacerbating by frenetic pacing, lack of context and MTV-style editing. And as in the earlier film, we get a big blinking-light display that ELIZABETH IS ANNE'S DAUGHTER! YOU KNOW, *THE* ELIZABETH! WE GET IT!!!

Natalie Portman is an excellent Anne who ends up falling somewhere between the Bujold and Dormer portrayals. She has moments of arrogance and bitchiness but she still remains a sympathetic character through most of the film. And kudos on the English accent, much-improved over her weak try in V for Vendetta. Scarlett Johansson is good enough as Mary, but her part is written as a meek, extraordinarily noble and selfless girl and thus fails to interest the viewer as much as Portman. Of the supporting cast, Kristin Scott Thomas as the girls' sympathetic but helpless mother is the stand-out; she is forced to stand idly by as her daughters fall victim to her husband's ambition. Other actors, including Jim Sturges, Juno Temple, Benedict Cumberbach, and David Morrissey, do fine yeoman's work. However, the cast's weak spot is undoubtedly Eric Bana, who is a near-pathetic Henry; he's far too demure and understated to make Henry work on any level.

Rating: 7/10

Rated, in rough order of preference:

Blackadder II
A Man for All Seasons
Anne of the Thousand Days
Shakespeare in Love
Elizabeth
The Tudors
The Sea Hawk
The Other Boleyn Girl
Lady Jane
Elizabeth: the Golden Age