Although it lucked upon getting two leads who would later achieve considerable success, Helena Botham Carter and Cary Elwes, along with the ever talented and prolific Patrick Stewart, Lady Jane just isn’t that good a film. Even by the standards of historical drama, which tends to be an aggressively unambitious and trope-loving genre (and I’m putting it generously), it’s an extremely average and predictable outing. Let me take a minute to run down the list: a female protagonist who is subjected to horrific abuse by her family, husband, and/or authority figures (check), characters spouting modern liberal ideas about social justice and equality that are pretty out of place for their time and place (check), and a prim individual embedded in their culture breaking out of the mold as a result of exposure to a “free spirit” (check!). To be fair, the filmmakers did have a challenge ahead of them. Queen Jane, known to historians as “the Nine-Day Queen,” was paradoxically made noticeable by the same circumstances that made her, historically speaking, completely insignificant. Anyone telling her story has to navigate around the fact that her entire appearance in the history of England was a false start, equivalent to the founding of the Republic of West Florida or Napoleon’s One Hundred Days. In other words, the record of having the shortest reign in English history doesn’t lend itself to much more than a colorful anecdote or two.
Despite all that, I can see why someone along the line thought she might be a good model for fiction. She really did have an appalling childhood, even in an age when “don’t hit them” was a radical approach to child upbringing, and a cruel, domineering mother. Also she became embroiled in what is undoubtedly one of the most “stranger than fiction” family histories of all time, that of the Tudor dynasty. In fact, the film is very faithful to her story, in a way. It gets the big points and even many events right, even if it makes up everything between those points, like making an unlikely love story out of the political marriage of Jane and her husband, Guilford Dudley. All said, it is one of the more historically faithful films I’ve reviewed. Unfortunately, it also goes against the message I’m trying to convey with these reviews, that history rarely if ever needs to be embroidered, by not being a terribly memorable movie.
So, what’s going on with this dynastic soap opera?
Although it is clumsy in doing so, the film does a good job, more or less, of conveying the basics. Still, I might as well sum up the soap opera that is the history of the Tudor dynasty for you all. So, Edward VI was the son that Henry VIII divorced and degraded one woman and killed another to get. Unfortunately, no one quite knew what to do if Edward VI died before he had children of his own, since, thanks to his father’s very complicated marital history, both of his only surviving siblings, Mary and Elizabeth, were considered illegitimate by various parties. In fact, both of them had been officially declared bastards at one point or another. Regardless, Henry VIII’s will placed Mary and then Elizabeth after Edward in the line of succession. Following them were the grandchildren of his deceased youngest sister Mary Tudor and old drinking-and-jousting buddy Charles Brandon, Jane Grey and her sisters. Either or both because he was not all that fond of his other sister Margaret or did not want a Scottish king to inherit the English throne (which, ironically enough, was exactly what ultimately happened), his will left out Margaret’s descendents, the reigning royal line of Scotland, out in the cold completely.
Was Jane really smart enough to read Plato in the original Greek?
Jane’s parents, Henry and Frances Grey, were devout Protestants, specifically Calvinists, and Protestants usually went far with the old Renaissance idea that even daughters should be educated. It was believed that education was the best way to ward off sin, heresy, and Catholicism (“A book a day keeps Satan and the Pope away,” to sum it up) while it ensured that Protestant beliefs would be passed on, which made the education of future mothers especially crucial. Jane not only benefited from this legacy, but seems to have been a kind of prodigy. She could not only read Latin and Greek, but could converse on sophisticated topics in them, and was learning Hebrew as well. Plus she exchanged letters with several prominent Protestant leaders and scholars, which wasn’t bad for a teenage woman.
Who is John Dudley?
John Dudley, or the Duke of Northumberland as he’s usually remembered in the history books, was a distinguished general and admiral who was one of a number of politicians who forced Edward VI’s first regent, his uncle Edward Seymour, out of office. Although he never took up the old office of Lord Protector, Dudley was really the new regent.
Jane’s parents are…pretty much sociopaths.
The scene where a Protestant scholar finds Jane reading Greek instead of hunting with her parents is completely accurate up until the point where her parents show up and start berating her. In real life, according to a letter written by the scholar, Jane actually confided to him that one of the reasons she loved reading and spending time with her tutors was that it was the only time when her parents didn’t constantly criticize and ridicule her.
What’s wrong with Edward and was he really manipulated into disinheriting his sisters?
Edward was either dying of tuberculosis or a severe lung infection. Either way, his death was slow, agonizing, and obvious, with one observer commenting that he was coughing up black and green mucus and blood. Even on his deathbed, though, he wasn’t completely Dudley’s puppet, even though historical tradition claims that Dudley practically forced Edward VI to write a new will overturning Henry VIII’s will and disinheriting both his sisters in favor of Jane Grey. See, contrary to popular belief, Henry VIII was never a Protestant, but instead just wanted a Church without a Pope (and where all the money spent on religious functions went to his government, not to some Church hierarchy or to the monasteries). However, Edward VI, even as a boy, was a fanatical Protestant who was determined to make sure England became a true Protestant country, a sentiment Dudley shared. Both Edward VI and Dudley knew that if Mary, who was a staunch traditionalist Catholic who hated what they would have considered Henry VIII’s “moderate” reforms, ever got the crown she would acknowledge papal authority again. It is true that, despite the growing tensions between them because of their religious and political differences, Edward and Mary were still relatively close, but Edward had just as much reason as Duldey to make sure a conservative Catholic never got within a one-mile radius of the English throne. As for Elizabeth, she was still very young at the time and couldn’t be relied upon to maintain the religious reforms they wanted (and, in fact, while Elizabeth I ultimately would be a self-proclaimed Protestant unlike her father, her religious policies were in some ways rightly criticized as “quasi-Catholic”). Since they were devout Calvinists, the Greys were the only sure bet that Edward VI’s vision of a purely Protestant England didn’t die with him. Of course, Dudley making sure that his son Guilford married Jane before the fact was clearly a power play designed to make sure he still had a good foothold on the new regime.
Was Guilford Dudley really a louse?
Not really, at least as far as the record indicates. Instead he comes across as more than a bit of a pampered mama’s boy, which is arguably the exact opposite of the way he’s portrayed here.
Did Jane rebel that much over being made to marry Guilford Dudley?
While it seems like dramatic license, there were reports that Jane did have an outburst against being forced to marry Guilford Dudley and her mother Frances Grey really did literally beat her into submission. Why she fought so hard against the betrothal, in spite of widespread Protestant ideas about female submission, is completely unknown. It was either because she wanted to remain single, out of the fact that she was already betrothed to the Earl of Hertford (which at the time was virtually as good as already being married), or because she knew she was just being set up to be Dudley’s pawn. Surprisingly the movie doesn’t explicitly give an explanation, except for hinting that Jane had already fallen in love with Edward VI. However, except for the fact that Jane was at one point considered as a possible wife for Edward, there’s nothing recorded about any feelings they had for each other or anything suggesting that they even knew each other that well.
Was Guilford really concerned about social ills?
Well, we can’t say he wasn’t, but given the faint image that does survive of him in the records, probably not. The film does have a point in that Henry VIII’s reign and the English Reformation did leave England in a rather bad state. While there was some economic improvement later on in Edward VI’s reign, inflation was out of control and the shutting down of monasteries and religious orders totally cut away one important, country-wide source of charity for the poor. However, we can’t say for sure if Jane and Guilford were even aware of these crises.
Did they really fall in love?
No; in fact, the exact opposite, and Jane spent as much time away from her new husband as possible.
Was Queen Jane’s crowning that…awkward?
The film does capture the sense that Jane’s crowning was a rushed, slipshod affair, but if anything what really happened was more dramatic than what the filmmakers put on screen. According to Jane’s own testimony later, she was offered the English crown by the Marquess of Winchester, one of John Dudley’s supporters. Even though Winchester insisted that he just wanted to see how it looked on her, Jane strongly protested but finally relented, in tears. When someone mentioned that Guilford would also be made king, Jane became angry and said Guilford would be made a duke, but nothing more. After a heated argument between the spouses, Guilford literally ran out of the room crying and looking for his mother, who came back with Guilford in tow and berated Jane for about an hour. Even then, Jane did not change her mind or compromise.
Did Jane actually attempt any reforms or, in fact, anything?
This is another point where the film is rather overoptimistic. Historians tend to overestimate just how conservative sixteenth century monarchs were – Henry VIII was downright revolutionary even though he didn’t intend to make England Protestant, as were his near-contemporaries Isabel and Fernando of Spain, who fundamentally changed Spanish society, much to the horror of Spanish Jews and Muslims – but Jane didn’t really have much of a chance to do anything in nine days as the figurehead of a regime that was beleaguered and widely unpopular from the very start. Almost all of her official acts were just sending orders to the sheriffs to put down the “rebellion” by Queen Mary, who right after her brother’s death declared herself as the legitimate Queen of England.
Did Patrick Stewart…I mean, Jane’s father really rush in and tear down the decorations in Jean’s throne room?
It seems like dramatic license, but according to one account, when news came that almost all of Jane’s council and large sections of the army defected over to Mary’s side, he actually came into Jane’s throne room in the Tower of London and tore down the decorations. What the film leaves out is that, for once, Henry Grey tried comforting her and all Jane could do was ask, “Can I go home?”
Queen Mary doesn’t seem to hold a grudge against the woman who usurped her throne, and yet…
Contrary to her reputation as “Bloody Mary,” Mary Tudor was actually able to keep up quite a lot of respect for Protestants, or at least Protestants who happened to be related to her. It is true that throughout her reign she bullied her sister Elizabeth, to the point that Elizabeth was in real danger of being executed and was actually imprisoned in the Tower of London for a while, but it was not just because Elizabeth was Protestant but that she was a dangerous rival some diehard Protestants were already claiming was the true rightful Queen because of Henry VIII’s annulment of his marriage to Mary’s mother, Catherine of Aragon. Mary actually remained close friends with Frances, who (extremely wisely) never pushed forward her own claim to the throne even when John Dudley seemed to have all the cards, and even after Jane was executed Frances was given a place in Mary’s court.
I’m getting ahead of myself, however. Mary also had a lot of genuine affection for Jane and was absolutely convinced that Jane was simply being manipulated by her father and the Dudleys. Although she agreed that Jane had to be imprisoned in the Tower of London for a period, Mary actually intended to one day free her and Guilford Dudley. With John Dudley executed and with the majority of the people, Parliament, and even some prominent Protestants behind her, Mary felt Jane posed no threat whatsoever.
Then Mary went and made what had to have been the dumbest mistake of her entire reign. Her advisers overwhelmingly wanted her to marry Edward Courtenay, who was more or less the only living remnant of the old Plantagenet dynasty the Tudors had (violently) replaced. Instead Mary had her heart set on marrying Philip von Hapsburg of Spain, the son and heir of her cousin Emperor Charles V, who had supported and advised her through letters during all the years she was persecuted and harassed by her father and brother for refusing to acknowledge her mother and father’s annulment and then for being Catholic. Mary, who was forced to live like a spinster because of political circumstances, was drawn to Philip, who was handsome, the son of the closest thing she ever had to a loving father, and belonged to by far the most powerful Catholic dynasty in Europe. Unfortunately, the English did not quite see it the same way. They saw (probably rightfully) that if a child came out of the marriage it would make England a satellite of the patchwork empire the Hapsburgs had already built through marriage alliances and inheritances (by that point the Hapsburgs already had Austria, Spain, the Netherlands, modern day Belgium, Hungary, the title of Holy Roman Emperor, and all the parts of Central Europe that hadn’t already been invaded by the Ottoman Empire). Worse, even though he had not yet become King of Spain, Philip was already associated with the brutal stories of persecution carried out by the Spanish Inquisition. For the English, marriage with Philip meant persecution, tyranny, and political subjugation to a foreign country would come to England, but Mary pressed on anyway. Mary’s subjects disagreed, sparking Wyatt’s Rebellion, led by the son of the poet. The rebellion was completely and pretty quickly crushed and Jane did nothing to back up the revolt, but the fact that Jane’s father fought for the rebels and that Charles V refused to let Philip leave for England until all possible threats to Mary’s rule were dealt with. Jane and Guilford’s fates were sealed. Possibly to soothe her own guilt, though, Mary sent a Catholic priest to try to convert Jane before her execution, but Jane, who had the guts of a true Tudor woman, was unswayed (whereas Northumberland, the hardened puppet master, converted before his execution). Because of that, when Jane was executed, she enjoyed a postumous career as a Protestant martyr, even though she was killed because of politics and not really religion. There are worse fates for people who only got to enjoy power for a few days, like total obscurity.
Incidentally, while Jane’s mother did remarry, she didn’t do so only several weeks after her daughter and husband’s executions. She wasn’t that horrible a mother.
And after a one-year hiatus, we’re back, hopefully for quite a while this time.
