Offbeat Editor and history lover Tony Diver reviews BBC1’s latest stab at the candlelit darkness of Tudor England
The debate around historical adaptation for the screen is a fierce one. The devious politicking of Tudor England is complex. Hilary Mantel’s novel Wolf Hall is excellent. Peter Kosminsky, as director of the new television series of the same name which charts the life of Thomas Cromwell, had a challenge on his hands.
From the outset, the episode was bland and dark. A revolution in period cinematography (a niche field, you might think), the night-time scenes of Wolf Hall are lit entirely by candlelight. It begins at York Place, with Cardinal Wolsey (Jonathan Pryce) being threatened by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. Provincial as they may sound, these men are to play key roles in the shaping of Tudor polity throughout the reigns of Henry and Edward. Pryce plays the humble Wolsey, close to his fall, but ever shrewd. Lurking in the shadows are the future nemeses of government: the ultra-Catholic Stephen Gardiner and our hero, Thomas Cromwell.
The demure mise-en-scene of the opening shots was then lit up with an absolutely stellar performance from Mark Rylance, as Cromwell. Dashing from the legal counsel of Wolsey to the death of his own wife and children, barely stopping to reminisce over the brutality of his childhood, Rylance showed – in one hour – extraordinary breadth of character. The soon-to-be-signature beret was removed only to show his mock respect for Anne Boleyn, a pretentious and hateable character whose marriage Cromwell is to orchestrate.
Unlike other Tudor dramas – think BBC2’s The Tudors – the costume and setting were so well-designed that they did not stand out, but not so florid as to be ostentatious. As is fitting, they merely faded into the (authentic) shadows and made way for the Cromwell Show. Key moments of the episode were Cromwell’s meetings with both Anne and Henry. Rylance’s sardonic respect for the king and imminent queen contrast beautifully with their regal garishness: Damien Lewis as Henry exaggerates the Holbein pose, creating a character who screams I am legitimate.
But as with any period drama, there were historical inaccuracies. The Sack of Rome of 1527 by imperial troops of Charles V – a momentous moment in European politics – was skimmed over and used only as a springboard for Wolsey’s platitudes about his ‘prince’. The implicit Machiavellian reference fitted badly with Pryce’s emphasis on Wolsey’s avuncular nature – just after his speech on “manipulating the situation to our advantage”, he offers Cromwell a cherry with the gentleness of the second-holiest man in Christendom. The Court of Blackfriars was one of the most dramatic scenes of the time, where Katherine sunk to her knees and begged Henry to acknowledge the legality of their marriage. In Wolf Hall she stands in a defendant’s box, whilst emphasis is placed on an amusing euphemism delivered by a servant – “last night I was in Spain”.
In all, Cromwell’s biopic showed what it should: a gritty, ambitious man with little care for the niceties of the Tudor court. It expected a knowledge of the period, which made it difficult to follow in places, but the speed at which events passed was true to the time. The shining light though the murky plot and dingy lighting was, quite rightly, Mark Rylance. I shall be watching again.