The Tudors on Showtime

When Showtime executives revealed that they were planning to air a new drama that was, as they put it, a 'historical soap opera' based around the Tudor dynasty, a joyous cry went up from two distinct groups of television watchers. The history buffs in general, particularly those who favored learning about European royalty, were desperately excited. Almost as excited as those who preferred the sight of lethally sharp cheekbones above all else. The network, after all, had chosen Jonathan Rhys Meyers, the once androgynous but now muscled star of Match Point, Bend it Like Beckham, Velvet Goldmine... et cetera, et cetera.

It was the television equivalent of the shot heard around the world for many, and those who cared about Irish actors with serial killer eyes who also had the luxury of subscription programming waited with bated breath for the first episode of the oh-so-creatively named 'The Tudors' which, they were promised, would contain lavish costuming, extensive sets, and sexual content. Loads of sexual content.

I, your friendly reporter, was unfortunately in college and lacking Showtime when the drama first aired but I got a play by play from a friend on the first episode (we're now approaching the second season) before I could catch up and her words, past a pause that spanned several ellipses, were as follows: 'Holy $#%&. It's a pornography.' The world between 'a' and 'pornography' was in all caps and is not suitable to be printed in this article, even censored via keyboard symbols.

It was not, in fact, a pornography. The Tudors, in the end, was a way for Showtime to bank on history while tweaking it specifically to fit their version of how things should go. The resulting uproar far surpassed that of everyone's initial excitement. The history buffs out-screamed those who were just in it for the eye candy and before the first season drew to a close, everyone paying attention to the internet or to reviews on paper knew the inaccuracies in loving, almost obsessive detail. Princess Margaret marrying the King of Portugal? Never happened. Henry Fitzroy dying of the black death at the age of six? Try again. The aforementioned child noticeably aging from birth to death throughout the episode but the king's daughter staying the same age and size? I don't think so.

Showtime made a rebuttal to the accusations that they were slaughtering history more bloodily than Henry Tudor slaughtered his wives (not that the audience had much complaining to do about that ... by the time the first run of it was drawing to a close, viewers were so sick of watching Natalie Dormer, cast as Anne Boleyn, fumble her way through a role and pull faces and show absolutely no chemistry with her leading man, that they wished she would have lost her head three episodes too early). It's a historical soap opera, they reminded us. We're allowed to take liberties with reality in the name of dramatics.

Right, of course. But how difficult is it, truly, to substitute the ruler of Normandy for the king of Portugal and nip that particular issue in the bud? Did the casting director slip up and accidentally promise roles to one too many Spanish-speaking actor? Or did Showtime as a whole think they could distract the world by showing off gratuitous shots of a mostly unclothed Rhys Meyers while he offered words that were not made customary for another hundred years and screamed, in a profoundly Irish accent (the first sighting of it in half a year), that he was in fact the crowned king of England? Well, let me tell you, Showtime, it's not going to work. That man can maul pomegranates and blood oranges with his mouth until he adds new definition to his cheeks and we will still be focused on the way you all are mangling history.

...you are mangling history, right? I can't really recall...

But, really. Admittedly beautiful sets and slow motion shots of attractive actors aside. Showtime has given The Tudors the green light for another handful of seasons, with each showcasing a different wife's life and death, give or take. Rumor has it the second will open with Henry's wedding to Anne Boleyn and let me tell you, that will be one I can't skip. Not because I'm truly interested in the marriage vows, but because I want to make absolutely sure he doesn't say the wrong name and the audience is left to realize the writers skipped a few wives because, you know, it would make things more dramatic. Like a modern soap opera.

Step up your game, Showtime. Your new King Henry might be rolling on beds for the delight of audiences worldwide, but the real deal's rolling in his tomb.