Wolf Hall review: an ending so great we forgot we knew it was coming, ix hours and a single sword swipe, and the king’s Great Matter is finally resolved. Last night saw the end of Anne Boleyn, and the TV adaptation of Hilary Mantel’s books Bring up the Bodies and Wolf Hall (BBC2).
There wasn’t a moment of Peter Kosminsky’s direction or Peter Straughan’s deft, beautifully elliptical writing that left you wanting for anything throughout this six-week splendour. But the final 15 minutes – with Anne’s death interspersed with flashbacks to Thomas Cromwell’s typically reluctant, typically thorough, inspection of the scaffold – were exceptional.
How do you dramatise a world that is mostly interior calculation, silent power plays and noiseless traps? By assembling a cast in which there is not one weak link. Try Jonathan Pryce as Cardinal Wolsey; Anton Lesser as the unflinching, infuriating Thomas More; and Damian Lewis as Henry (“Could you give us the kind of charismatic kingship that lasts down the ages with a side order of ego and caprice that could usher in a religious reformation?
But we need to be able to love him, too, else this whole thing makes no sense?” “Coming right up”). And, as if that weren’t enough, Claire Foy moving flawlessly from bold, brave and brilliant bitch to sacrificial lamb as Anne Boleyn; and, of course, Mark Rylance as the indefatigable, implacable, terrifying, awe-inspiring Cromwell, delivering a performance that will probably require the invention of new awards.Read More
There wasn’t a moment of Peter Kosminsky’s direction or Peter Straughan’s deft, beautifully elliptical writing that left you wanting for anything throughout this six-week splendour. But the final 15 minutes – with Anne’s death interspersed with flashbacks to Thomas Cromwell’s typically reluctant, typically thorough, inspection of the scaffold – were exceptional.How do you dramatise a world that is mostly interior calculation, silent power plays and noiseless traps? By assembling a cast in which there is not one weak link. Try Jonathan Pryce as Cardinal Wolsey; Anton Lesser as the unflinching, infuriating Thomas More; and Damian Lewis as Henry (“Could you give us the kind of charismatic kingship that lasts down the ages with a side order of ego and caprice that could usher in a religious reformation?
But we need to be able to love him, too, else this whole thing makes no sense?” “Coming right up”). And, as if that weren’t enough, Claire Foy moving flawlessly from bold, brave and brilliant bitch to sacrificial lamb as Anne Boleyn; and, of course, Mark Rylance as the indefatigable, implacable, terrifying, awe-inspiring Cromwell, delivering a performance that will probably require the invention of new awards.Read More
