TV Review: The Tudors - Gee Cardinal Krupke (An Ode To My Favorite Tyrant)

It’s hard to know where, exactly, my bizarre affection began. Perhaps it was upon reading The Autobiography of Henry VIII, the novel (despite its title) by Margaret George. Perhaps it was during my college years when I majored in British History. Perhaps it has some connection to my life as a cradle Episcopalian. Regardless of its origins, there is no escaping the truth. I love Henry VIII. He’s absolutely my favorite tyrant in all of history.

This affection has caused me no little embarrassment. I’ve found myself making the oddest arguments in defense of his wacky antics. I get cranky when people say he broke with the Church just to get a divorce. You know, it wasn’t just to get an annulment (not a divorce) from his first wife that he caused all that ruckus with Rome. He was standing up to Rome’s political manipulations and attempts to weaken England in favor of Spain. Truthfully, Henry was relatively pious and not a big fan of divorce, which is why he beheaded two of his wives instead of just divorcing them.

Like I said, the oddest arguments, the sort that cause sprains. When a friend of mine heard they were beginning a series on Showtime about Henry, he rather crankily referred to Henry as, I believe, a psychotic sociopath. Well now, really. That’s a bit much. He wasn't all that bad, just misunderstood. Deep down inside him there was good! (There was good! There was good! There was untapped good. Like inside, the worst of him was good.)

Certainly Henry has had an ongoing image problem, particularly in Hollywood. You usually see the fat, boorish Charles Laughton version. Or the fat, boorish, and whiny Richard Burton version. Or the executing-his-best-friend Robert Shaw version. Most of his portrayals seem to involve gratuitous eating of turkey legs and copious amounts of “off with his head!”-ings. Which isn’t to say that Henry wasn’t rather corpulent by the end, or that he didn’t tend to have people who irritated him killed (but seriously now, what seventeenth century monarch didn’t?). It’s just a bit one-sided, like judging The King (the other one) solely on his Fat Elvis, television shooting days.

Article Author: Kati Irons

I am a film and music librarian for a public library system. Like many of my kind, I suffer from RKS, or Random Knowledge Syndrome. These musings are the inevitable end result of that condition.

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