Calling all Wolfies! Did y’all enjoy Episode 3 of “Wolf Hall”?
Now what I really want to know, ever since reading the book (and I did tweet @HilaryMantel, so I’ll let you know if I get an answer): Did she make up that totally Tudor cuss – or did she come across it during her research phase, inscribed in a leather tankard somewhere: “Oh, by the thrice beshitten shroud of Lazarus, where’s me meade?” It is magnificent, so much so that I did urge my stockbrokin’ brother to try and weave it into a conversation at work for laffs. Not sure how he got on there …. perhaps someone else can have a go?
The standout performance from last night’s episode, was ….. The Score! (NB to ‘im indoors: My birthday is only a week away ….)
The music is quite fabulous (if not quite “authentic” – electric Tudor keyboards anyone?) but I’m not on that jag today – what wait? Looky here – an explanation for the instrument selection, from the Amazon listing:
Leading British film and TV composer Debbie Wiseman in her sixth collaboration with BAFTA Award winning director Peter Kosminsky has created a highly original score mixing Tudor instruments with modern to create the austere and vivid musical atmosphere of the time.
The final scene where Cromwell watches Queen Anne being sent up the river, up the duff, with many paddles – for now (so he thinks – oh, the imagery!) is an absolute corker. Cromwell is thinking, thinking, always thinking and the electric minimalism carries such introspective suspense with a bloop here and blip there; little (dark) ideas are popping into his head.
Cromwell doesn’t need a soundtrack to be walking tall these days (unlike the rest of us): Perhaps there is an animal’s last “spray” in those furry collars, a hidden pheromone if you will, as the Ladies are a’likin what they’re seeing! The “action” was definitely missing in the book, it was ‘reported’ but we never really caught them at it. Obvie, that kind of restraint ain’t going to work on the telly. The producers, rightly, are giving us the “Lupine Lodge” version of Wolf Hall; hands on heaving breasts, going in for a pash/snog/kiss, and a bit of post-coital pillow talk. Pass me my fan!
A final word: Falling short of an explanation for the explosive outburst of Sir-Swearsalot (Norfolk was it?) for today’s post, I went to my source of all things Biblical / post-Medieval: My friend Sza says: Perhaps Lazarus died of dysentery?
I’m off now to look up The Locrian Ensemble of London! Anyone up for a Volta?