TV Review: "Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light" (Episodes 1-3)
The acclaimed period drama returns with its haunting and strangely poignant chronicling of the rise and fall of Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII's most devoted, and tragic, servant.
Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free!
As an added bonus, every month I’ll be running a promotion where everyone who signs up for a paid subscription will be entered into a contest to win TWO of the books I review during a given month. For April, this will include all books reviewed during March and April. Be sure to spread the word!
Warning: Spoilers for the series follow.
I’ve been looking forward to the release of the second season of Wolf Hall, the acclaimed adaptation of Hilary Mantel’s trilogy of novels about Thomas Cromwell ever since I heard that they were going to be concluding the story begun way back in 2015. I am happy to say that the second season more than lives up to the lofty achievements of its predecessor. It’s a season of period television that is stately and deliberate yet, I must admit, deeply affecting, focusing as it does on the apex and decline of one of the Tudor era’s most remarkable figures.
The second season begins, appropriately enough, with an execution. Anne Boleyn (Claire Foy), whose downfall Cromwell has orchestrated both to protect himself and to avenge his mentor Thomas Wolsey (whose own fall from grace was brought about by Anne and her family). Henry (Damian Lewis), of course, is tremendously grateful to his adviser and, just as the Boleyns fall, Cromwell rises, buoyed up Henry’s faith in him and by his king’s happiness with his new wife, Jane Seymour (Kate Phillips).
Cromwell finds, however, that in Henry’s court an ascent from obscurity brings with it far more risks than rewards. His defense of Lady Mary (Lilit Lester), Henry’s disgraced elder daughter, is particularly fraught, since she continues to resist her father’s desire for her to bend the knee, accept her demotion from princess to lady, and accept that her father is now Head of the Church of England. The moments between the Lord Privy Seal and the anguished royal are touching, as are those between Cromwell and Queen Jane. Perhaps because Cromwell’s own position–based as it is on the king’s favor rather than an exalted bloodline–is so tenuous, he has a connection and sympathy with women that none of the other characters do.
As he did in the first season, Rylance gives a phenomenal performance of this most enigmatic of Henry’s courtiers. He is very much a modern man and a modern subject, and for roughly the first half of the season Cromwell is much more assured and assertive than he was in the first season, when he was still beginning his ascent to power and influence. During the first three episodes we repeatedly see him man-handling various members of the nobility, setting them aside when they won’t move out of his way or strong-arming them out of meetings of the Privy Council when they endanger themselves by speaking back to Henry. This is a man who is quite well-aware of his new powers and isn’t afraid to use them.
Equally compelling, though far more terrifying, is Damian Lewis’ follow-up turn as Henry VIII. Of all of the people who’ve played the bluff Henry over the years, Lewis is one of the few who seems to understand this particular monarch in a way that feels intrinsic and honest rather than forced. Though he’s suave and charismatic, there’s an imperiousness to his delivery–whether it’s at the head of the Privy Council or in his more intimate moments–that contains hints about the terror to come. This is a monarch who truly believes in his divine right, which means that he is quite eager to deal out death and judgment to anyone who crosses his path, whether that be members of his own family (including his Poles, who are a thorn in his side and a potential threat to his rule) or the men he has raised to power and privilege.
At the same time, Cromwell also has to grapple with the ghosts of the past, in particular that of Jonathan Pryce’s Wolsey, who repeatedly appears to him as a sort of ghostly conscience and adviser. Wolsey, even in this apparition form, has a keen understanding of Henry’s personality and the dangers of serving him, and he repeatedly reminds Cromwell of how perilous it can be to be the right hand man of the king. He astutely reminds Cromwell that Henry will take all of his good ideas as his own and blame him for anything that goes wrong. We repeatedly see this play out, with Henry lashing out with increasing frequency as Cromwell, newly assured that his is the best way and his advice the only thing the king needs to succeed, constantly keeps Henry from doing what he wants.
In one of the season’s most poignant, and somewhat pathetic, moments Cromwell goes to the nunnery where Wolsey’s bastard daughter has spent most of her life, in the hopes of rescuing her from her isolated state and making amends for his failure to help Wolsey when he was banished from Henry’s presence. Rylance’s stammering and jittery performance makes it clear the extent to which Cromwell, for once, is very much out of his depth, with the young woman spurning his every effort to appeal to her, responding with particular contempt to his offer of marriage. This whole sequence is a reminder of Cromwell’s fundamental humanity, with all of the weaknesses and foibles that entails. For all that he likes to think of himself as an agent of Henry’s will, and for all that he projects this to anyone who will listen, Cromwell is beginning to grapple with the fact that he might be just as power-hungry and avaricious as any of the other members of the court.
At the same time, there are all of the usual pitfalls associated with court life, where there’s no shortage of notables ready and willing to exploit Cromwell’s weakness. Timothy Spall has stepped in for the late Bernard Hill, and he brings to the aging Duke of Nofolk a sneering and blustering contempt that is very much in keeping with the historical figure’s dislike of anyone who sought to infringe on his own hereditary right to influence. Spall never met a character he couldn’t sink his teeth into, and he’s in fine form as Norfolk, threatening and scoffing at everything that Cromwell tries to do.
One of the things that I enjoyed about the first season of Wolf Hall was how skillfully it managed to convey both the beauty and the terror of the Tudor court. For all that this dynasty is rightfully celebrated for the extent to which it ruled over a true flowering of the arts in all of their forms, this was also a time when royal authority centered on the monarch, who could turn on anyone, even their own blood, in a heartbeat. This was also a period in which men like Cromwell showed their usefulness to their masters by undertaking their dirty work, whether that’s the Dissolution of the Monasteries–which Cromwell shows himself remarkably adept at continuing–even if doing so earned them the opprobrium of the masses and made their dispensability even more acute.Those of us who know the history of this moment that Cromwell’s rise to power has reached its zenith and that nothing good will come of the days ahead. Much as Wolsey managed to achieve a great deal before plunging into ruin and despair, so Cromwell is heading for an equally catastrophic fall.
Suffice it to say that I loved these first three episodes of The Mirror and the Light. It’s not every series that could go nearly a decade between its first and second seasons so seamlessly, but hats off to the creative team behind this show, which continues to be one of the finest period dramas I’ve ever seen. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing what the rest of this season has in store for Crowmell and the rest of us, even as i’m also dreading his inevitable fall and demise.
Thus are the wages of loving fictions about the Tudors and their servants.