Firelight on the Mantel piece
WHEN I saw that DStv channel BBC First was bringing us the series Wolf Hall, my first response was: “Now I don’t have to read the books!” This is, of course, an ignorant and puerile reaction, and I feel quite ashamed for having written it down. The source material for the series consists of two books by British author Hilary Mantel. Both the first novel — Wolf Hall — and the second — Bring Up The Bodies — won the prestigious Booker prize, making Mantel one of only three writers to win the award twice. The first person to do it was our very own JM Coetzee.
Anyway, the point is that the books are, by all sensible accounts, magnificent. I haven’t read them partly because of their size: they have the kind of heft that you could easily use to club to death an intruder. I also haven’t read them because I’m not mad about historical novels set in ye olde Englande. Get with the times, dudes!
But here we have the answer to all my problems: an exquisitely-produced BBC miniseries based on Mantel’s novels. The Guardian called it “without doubt some of the most impressive British TV drama in years”. Probably true. However, it goes without saying that you still need to have a penchant for British costume dramas to get into it in the first place.
It’s the first half of the 16th century. King Henry VIII has no son after 20 years of marriage to Queen Catherine of Aragon. He wants the Pope to annul his marriage, but the Catholic Church’s representative in Britain, Cardinal Wolsey, cannot persuade the pope to agree.
Catherine and Henry have a daughter, just to be clear, but of course that doesn’t count. “A woman on the English throne! Flies in the face of nature,” spits one of Henry’s courtiers. Other than the heir issue, though, the reason Henry wants out of his marriage is because he’s found a new love interest: the charming and ruthless Anne Boleyn. If you know a bit about English history, you know that Anne shouldn’t get too attached to the idea of being queen. She also shouldn’t get too attached to her head.
But the main character in the series isn’t any of these people. It is Thomas Cromwell, the loyal servant of Wolsey. Cromwell is played by Mark Rylance, widely regarded as the finest stage actor of our time. I just wish Rylance didn’t have such an actorly face. You can’t even imagine his visage scrubbed clean of guyliner and manscara, because he looks like he was born in an improv class.
Wolsey is played by Jonathan Pryce, whose past roles include that of Juan Peron in the film version of the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical Evita. The ill-fated Nick Brody from Homeland (actor Damian Lewis) is here too, this time as Henry VIII. My Ladybird history books always had Henry VIII as a man verging on obese, but this version of the king is quite dishy. Lewis still does a halftalk, half-whisper thing, though, exactly as he did when playing Homeland’s Brody.
It’s a pity DStv is bringing us the series as we accelerate into summer. There’s a lot of scenes of people writing with quills next to flickering fires, which makes it all seem like cosy winter viewing. You’ll have to keep your wits about you, though: there are over 100 characters, and most of them seem to be called Thomas. The pace is unhurried, but rewarding — like a slowcooked lamb.