Even though I’m devastated by the news that Becoming Elizabeth, one of the best costume dramas that Starz has produced in quite a long time, won’t be returning for a second season, I take some solace in the fact that I still have The Serpent Queen to look forward to. The most recent episode, “A New Era,” is the series’ strongest offering yet, as it sees Catherine, now played full-time by Samantha Morton, contending with the realities of
From the beginning, The Serpent Queen has focused on the vexed position that women occupy in the world of Renaissance Europe. Obviously, Catherine has been one of the chief mouthpieces for this engagement, as she explains to Rahima how it is that she came to be the cunning manipulator and power behind the throne. In this episode, however, Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, King Francis’ mistress, is the one who gets the juiciest lines of dialogue. When the king fails to, er, perform, it leads into a fascinating discussion about the nature of power, patronage, and patriarchy for, make no mistake, Anne is no fool. She knew what this was when she signed up to be the king’s mistress, but that doesn’t mean that she necessarily likes the idea that she’s going to get the boot as soon as the king dies. It is a beautifully orchestrated moment, a reminder to the viewer of what once awaited Catherine had she failed to provide an heir and what just might be in store for Diane, if Henri should predecease her.
But, of course, both Catherine and Diane are more stable in their roles than Anne. As the episode unfolds, we learn that the former has already given Henri several children, despite his ongoing fascination with/enslavement to Diane’s charms. In what is arguably the episode’s most wrenching scenes, Henri orders a doctor to save Catherine’s life during her last delivery, even though doing so requires losing the child. It’s a brutal sequence, and it’s hard not to view it in conversation with a similar one which took place during the premiere of House of the Dragon. We all vividly remember how King Viserys was more than willing to sacrifice the life of his beloved Aemma in exchange for a male heir; Henri, whatever his failings and weaknesses, at least privileges his wife’s life over that of his child’s. In both cases, however, a woman is denied the right to choose what to do with her own body. For Catherine, the brutal loss of her child is all the more devastating, for she was robbed of what little agency she might have possessed.
Indeed, this entire episode takes great pains to show how becoming a fully-fledged adult has done little to alter Catherine’s material circumstances. She is still condemned to play second fiddle to Diane, who remains as cunning and ruthless as she has always been, perhaps even more so. After all, as Anne’s plight demonstrates, she has a great deal to lose if something should happen to Henri or, heaven forfend, he should turn away from her. Fortunately for her (and unfortunately for Catherine), Henri is still the weak-willed boy he has always been, so much so that he is even willing to dress in Diane’s colors during his own coronation.
Thus, even Catherine’s access to the position of queen doesn’t guarantee her true power, at least not on any permanent basis. Henri might be willing to grant her a seat on his council, but even this is largely the result of an oath he swears to the ailing King Francis on his deathbed (the late king is one of the few who has always been able to see Catherine for who she is, much to his credit). And, even so, Henri is the kind of weak, petulant monarch who is far more concerned with how people view him than he is with being an effective or firm ruler. Even this early in his reign, it’s clear that he will be at the mercy of the various powers at court, most notably the Catholic Guises and the Protestant Bourbons. Unlike his father, who was, whatever his failings as a king, at the very least a formidable personality, Henri is far too weak to be effective.
As has been the case throughout this series, Samantha Morton is nothing short of extraordinary in this role. She manages to bring out so many of the complexities and layers of this most infamous of Renaissance. Her voice has a sibilant softness that is almost hypnotic, made all the more so because it allows Catherine to move through the court as if she is still the same vulnerable girl she once was. At the same time, this is also a woman who knows very well how the world really works. As she says to Eleanor at the latter’s departure from court, she is nothing like her; she will, ultimately, prevail.
All of this isn’t to say that she doesn’t have her own moments of vulnerability, for she does. Much to her chagrin–and that of many others in the court, including Francis’ wife Eleanor–she has had the misfortune to actually fall in love with Henri. The moment in which he finally, and seemingly definitively, rejects her in favor of Diane is heartbreaking, and Morton allows us to see just how much this devastates Catherine.
And then, in the present, there is Rahima, who has also begun to flex her newfound power. The moment in which she humiliates the two adolescent guardsmen is truly delightful to watch, and we can see just how much she is relishing this opportunity to be something more than just a victim in the hands of others. Like Catherine, she is learning that there is more power in manipulation than there is in outright displays of force.
Overall, I thought this was another fantastic episode. The Serpent Queen continues to show that it knows how to provide the typical pleasures of the costume drama while also charting its own dangerous court, one of as sinister and beautiful as the French court it depicts.
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The Sinful Delight of "The Serpent Queen"--"A New Era" (S1, Ep. 4)
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Even though I’m devastated by the news that Becoming Elizabeth, one of the best costume dramas that Starz has produced in quite a long time, won’t be returning for a second season, I take some solace in the fact that I still have The Serpent Queen to look forward to. The most recent episode, “A New Era,” is the series’ strongest offering yet, as it sees Catherine, now played full-time by Samantha Morton, contending with the realities of
From the beginning, The Serpent Queen has focused on the vexed position that women occupy in the world of Renaissance Europe. Obviously, Catherine has been one of the chief mouthpieces for this engagement, as she explains to Rahima how it is that she came to be the cunning manipulator and power behind the throne. In this episode, however, Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, King Francis’ mistress, is the one who gets the juiciest lines of dialogue. When the king fails to, er, perform, it leads into a fascinating discussion about the nature of power, patronage, and patriarchy for, make no mistake, Anne is no fool. She knew what this was when she signed up to be the king’s mistress, but that doesn’t mean that she necessarily likes the idea that she’s going to get the boot as soon as the king dies. It is a beautifully orchestrated moment, a reminder to the viewer of what once awaited Catherine had she failed to provide an heir and what just might be in store for Diane, if Henri should predecease her.
But, of course, both Catherine and Diane are more stable in their roles than Anne. As the episode unfolds, we learn that the former has already given Henri several children, despite his ongoing fascination with/enslavement to Diane’s charms. In what is arguably the episode’s most wrenching scenes, Henri orders a doctor to save Catherine’s life during her last delivery, even though doing so requires losing the child. It’s a brutal sequence, and it’s hard not to view it in conversation with a similar one which took place during the premiere of House of the Dragon. We all vividly remember how King Viserys was more than willing to sacrifice the life of his beloved Aemma in exchange for a male heir; Henri, whatever his failings and weaknesses, at least privileges his wife’s life over that of his child’s. In both cases, however, a woman is denied the right to choose what to do with her own body. For Catherine, the brutal loss of her child is all the more devastating, for she was robbed of what little agency she might have possessed.
Indeed, this entire episode takes great pains to show how becoming a fully-fledged adult has done little to alter Catherine’s material circumstances. She is still condemned to play second fiddle to Diane, who remains as cunning and ruthless as she has always been, perhaps even more so. After all, as Anne’s plight demonstrates, she has a great deal to lose if something should happen to Henri or, heaven forfend, he should turn away from her. Fortunately for her (and unfortunately for Catherine), Henri is still the weak-willed boy he has always been, so much so that he is even willing to dress in Diane’s colors during his own coronation.
Thus, even Catherine’s access to the position of queen doesn’t guarantee her true power, at least not on any permanent basis. Henri might be willing to grant her a seat on his council, but even this is largely the result of an oath he swears to the ailing King Francis on his deathbed (the late king is one of the few who has always been able to see Catherine for who she is, much to his credit). And, even so, Henri is the kind of weak, petulant monarch who is far more concerned with how people view him than he is with being an effective or firm ruler. Even this early in his reign, it’s clear that he will be at the mercy of the various powers at court, most notably the Catholic Guises and the Protestant Bourbons. Unlike his father, who was, whatever his failings as a king, at the very least a formidable personality, Henri is far too weak to be effective.
As has been the case throughout this series, Samantha Morton is nothing short of extraordinary in this role. She manages to bring out so many of the complexities and layers of this most infamous of Renaissance. Her voice has a sibilant softness that is almost hypnotic, made all the more so because it allows Catherine to move through the court as if she is still the same vulnerable girl she once was. At the same time, this is also a woman who knows very well how the world really works. As she says to Eleanor at the latter’s departure from court, she is nothing like her; she will, ultimately, prevail.
All of this isn’t to say that she doesn’t have her own moments of vulnerability, for she does. Much to her chagrin–and that of many others in the court, including Francis’ wife Eleanor–she has had the misfortune to actually fall in love with Henri. The moment in which he finally, and seemingly definitively, rejects her in favor of Diane is heartbreaking, and Morton allows us to see just how much this devastates Catherine.
And then, in the present, there is Rahima, who has also begun to flex her newfound power. The moment in which she humiliates the two adolescent guardsmen is truly delightful to watch, and we can see just how much she is relishing this opportunity to be something more than just a victim in the hands of others. Like Catherine, she is learning that there is more power in manipulation than there is in outright displays of force.
Overall, I thought this was another fantastic episode. The Serpent Queen continues to show that it knows how to provide the typical pleasures of the costume drama while also charting its own dangerous court, one of as sinister and beautiful as the French court it depicts.
Until next week!