The Cutprice Guignol

Thomas Cromwell contends with his past and futures lost as Wolf Hall rounds in on a devastating finale.

In this episode of The Mirror and the Light, Jenneke, things take a distinct turn for the worst for our beloved Thomas Cromwell, both personally and politically. Though Henry finally has his long-awaited male heir, it comes at the cost of the Queen’s life, and, elsewhere, rumblings in the court are threatening to unseat an increasingly-distracted Cromwell from his place at the King’s ear.

First, let’s start with the women of Cromwell’s life, both coming and going. There’s a really interesting point of comparison here between Jenneke, his illegitimate daughter (Ellie de Lange) and Jane, as Cromwell grieves losing the past and the future, respectively, of these women he cares for. In Jenneke, he sees a gulf between them in the father he was never given the chance to be to her – he lost out on her past, lost out on her childhood, lost out on the chance to prove himself to her. I love what de Lange and Rylance share in this episode – Cromwell shows a markedly more emotional side to Jenneke, perhaps because he feels there is less pressure for him to live up to the version of Cromwell that he’s so carefully crafted over his time in court. They talk of a future together, where Cromwell lives out his days tending bees; for him, it’s downright intimate. And, in Jane, he has lost out on whatever future they may have had together, even if it’s one he had only longed for rather than one that could ever have come to pass.

Jane and Cromwell’s relationship has been one of the more interesting notes in this season so far; the fantastic Kate Philips, who plays Jane, remarked in an interview that she and Rylance intended to play the characters in love with one another. We’ve certainly seen that played out in small details across this season – Jane’s hand lingering on his shoulder, her candid conversations with him – but it’s here, after her passing, , that their affection is underlined most clearly. Cromwell rages in the moments after her death that he would not have allowed her to die, that she would have lived were she his wife – and, while it’s impossible to say if that’s true, Rylance plays it with such an astonishing fury and certainty, it’s hard not to believe him, and to feel shattered at the potential future that was denied to both of them. As soon as the King laid eyes on Jane, their feelings were doomed to remain unrequited, and it’s the King’s union with her that eventually leads to her death.

As per, it’s a great episode for Damien Lewis as Henry. I think one of the great triumphs of his performance is his ability to play the King as consistently inconsistent in a way that makes sense; Henry is utterly convinced of everything that he says as it comes out of his mouth, even as we, as viewers, are rolling our eyes and knowing he’ll walk it back. He comments that he might remain chaste after Jane passes, only to start commenting on the beauty of other women by the end of the same conversation – nobody can hold him to his word or call time on his hypocrisy, to the point where he is apparently utterly oblivious to it while remaining convinced of his own status and right to power.

Jenneke chooses to leave soon after Jane’s death, leaving Cromwell, once again, alone – despite his pleas for her to stay – and it’s clear that things are starting to become unstuck for our favourite privy-seal (well, top ten, at least). A clash between Henry and a member of the church lands more stress on his shoulders, and Cromwell falls ill, leading to a long, dark night of the very chilly soul.

Look, I know that some people might see a dive into a character’s subconscious like this as a bit of a cop-out in terms of storytelling, but I’ll never not love it. And Cromwell’s feverish dreams take us to some interesting places – we see Anne, looking to the tower for pardon before her execution, and Wolsey, receiving a blessing shortly before his death. Both seeking redemption shortly before their passing, it’s hard not to see this as a reflection of where Cromwell is starting to slip to. The icy control he once exuded over his words and actions are falling apart in the face of the emotional turmoil he’s facing, and the betrayals he committed – whether real or perceived – are starting to look all too familiar.

I was also really impressed with the aspects of technical storytelling in this episode – the slow, dreamlike sequence following the Queen’s death to depict Cromwell’s grief and guilt, the way the blues and washed-out colours contrast with the warmth and gold of the first episode. Of particular note to me was the sound design in the last third of the episode, after Cromwell falls ill – the constant, thrumming buzzing that overtakes nearly everything. It’s a remnant of his sickness and an indication of his physical weakness, absolutely, but more than that, it bears a striking resemblance to the bees he so longs to work with in his old age – the bees represent his potential future peace, and, with this sound design, they’re constantly punched through everything that is happening here, all the chaos and the slow unpicking of the stitches he’s made into Henry’s court.

As we round in on the closing episodes of the show, Cromwell’s fate is increasingly, grimly inevitable. And that’s a credit to the show, given how utterly untouchable he seemed by the end of the first season; Rylance’s astonishing performance has given real emotional weight to this downfall, and I truly think this entire arc is one for the screenwriting and TV acting history books. While I’m loathe to say I’m looking forward to the ending, knowing what’s coming, I can’t wait to see how it plays out.

How are you finding The Mirror and the Light so far? How is it stacking up against the first season? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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(header image via Radio Times)