Most of us enjoy retellings of our favorite stories. We might choose a novel based on the Trojan War or binge on the latest Sherlock. We already know the characters and general shape of the plot, but it doesn’t matter. We want another bite.
And it’s not just readers and viewers. Creators do it too. Somehow Romeo and Juliet becomes West Side Story, but that’s just the beginning. Producers and directors keep reimagining both the drama and the musical, and audiences keep showing up.
In historical fiction, a single English dynasty has inspired a far-flung empire of novels, stage plays, musicals, opera, TV programs, and film. In an earlier post, I speculated about why the Tudors still have such a hold on us. They ruled England five hundred years ago, but we instantly recognize their names: Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen. You could argue that Shakespeare started it with Henry VIII, often considered his worst play. Not even the immortal bard was incandescent all the time.
Hans Holbein, Portrait of Henry VIII, 1497-1543, Google Art Project
Composer Gaetano Donizetti was an early aficionado. He wrote four Tudor-themed operas, including Anna Bolena which premiered in Milan in 1830 to “overwhelming success.” With the arrival of movies in the late nineteenth century, audiences began consuming the arts and entertainment in different ways. The Tudors quickly made the leap.
Hans Holbein painted Henry VIII as an enormous man, nearly as wide as he was tall. But between 2007 and 2010, Showtime’s The Tudors, featured a much younger, sexier monarch. As The New York Times put it, critics “could take or leave” the "steamy period drama . . . but many viewers are eating [it] up.”
I’m always up for a good Tudor story, and I seem to be in good company. But the astonishing popularity of Tudor narratives defies one of storytelling’s classic rules: you’re supposed to turn the page—or be glued to the screen—wondering what will happen. I think it’s safe to say that most people reading a book or watching a film about Anne Boleyn already know her fate. They must be looking for something else.
Anthropologists and social historians have hypothesized about why humans collect and tell each other stories. TCK Publishing has a good summary of the key theories. One chief purpose, the experts suggest, is to offer moral guidance and cautionary tales. That partly explains the Tudors’ appeal. Being exposed to Henry VIII warns people about the dangers of absolute power in the hands of a malignant narcissist. Contemporary works on the queens often emphasize the women’s intelligence and resilience in a male-dominated society. They serve as examples of persistence and grace in the face of danger and hardship.
But for me, the lure is different. I’ve read and seen a gazillion Tudor tales, and I find the individuals compelling, but enigmatic. They’re psychological puzzles to be solved. In some ways, we know them: Historians pore over their letters. Many of their palaces still stand. Metal detectorists recently found a golden pendent linked to Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. We have plenty of Tudor artefacts.
But at a deeper, human level, they remain mysterious. We don’t understand what drove their thinking or what they said to each other as they faced triumph and defeat. How did Henry’s passion for Anne Boleyn turn into a willingness to have her executed? How did Katherine Parr manage to change Henry’s mind after he signed a warrant charging her with heresy?
Have we reached peak Tudor? Probably not for me. What do you think? Do you have a favorite Tudor book or movie I left out of my list. Maybe Glenda Jackson or Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth? I could have gone on for pages.
I remember practically holding my breath while reading Anne Boleyn's death scene in Mantel's Bring Up the Bodies--even though of course I knew what would happen! In the case of Mantel, the writing is extraordinary; she somehow manages to build tension and dread, despite the foreseen outcome. I wonder if we keep returning to this story because there is some strange mix of comfort in foreknowing, but excitement in seeing it all play out? I'm not sure, but you're right, the Tudors remain endlessly appealing!
What is there not in all of these tales that doesn't pair with our contemporary experiences?
I remember practically holding my breath while reading Anne Boleyn's death scene in Mantel's Bring Up the Bodies--even though of course I knew what would happen! In the case of Mantel, the writing is extraordinary; she somehow manages to build tension and dread, despite the foreseen outcome. I wonder if we keep returning to this story because there is some strange mix of comfort in foreknowing, but excitement in seeing it all play out? I'm not sure, but you're right, the Tudors remain endlessly appealing!