Dagmar:
26.10.13 18:01
La comtesse писал(а):Это там Анна на заднем плане тоже такая довольная и улыбающаяся выплясывает? Просто не помню ее в этом платье, да и не должна она тут быть, если по роману/фильму.
Где ты там Анну то разглядела?
Бедняжке не до танцев в тот момент было.)))
La comtesse писал(а): Но она сейчас на пике популярности, хоть и непонятно по какой причине. Чего народ читает...
Ненавижу уже ее, убила бы.
Так хочется зайти на ее фейсбук и написать какую нибудь гадость.
Виктория В писал(а):Конти, там на переднем плане наш кумир, актеры красивые, съемки красивые, так почему бы не посмотреть?
Вот только ради него, нашего красавца, и терплю эти ужасные фото.
Виктория В писал(а):Я в своей повести в таких случаях склонна обычно облагораживать героев, а не выставлять их в неприглядном свете.
Честь тебе и хвала.
Эх, если бы мадам Филиппа делала бы также...
La comtesse писал(а):А вот замалчивать некоторые моменты и придумывать несуществующие факты - это уже для меня весомое нарушение. А в сериале, как и книге, такого навалом.
Поддерживаю.
Не могу простиь ей того, что она сотворила с бедными Ричардом и Анной.
И ладно британцы и остальные европейцы, и наши в том числе - они не поддались на ее провокации и очень хорошо отнеслись к этой паре. А вот американцы - мамма миа.
Они и так то не знают истории, ни своей, ни чужой, так еще и наивные как дети -поверили всему что увидели в сериале.
Теперь требуют продолжения. Какое вам продолжение? Тюдоров идите смотрите, вот вам продолжение.
...
La comtesse:
27.10.13 12:22
Виктория В писал(а):ее Анна Болейн получилась самым удачным художественным образом этой королевы.
Я, конечно, не читала романа Грегори про Анну, но разговаривала с форумчанками, которые серьезно увлечены эпохой и которые прочитали все, что есть на русском, и даже что-то на английском языке (прям как я по Войне Роз
) про Анну Болейн. Ну, в общем, знатоки считают, что ее Анна как раз один из самых неудачных образов Анны.
Впрочем, это все, конечно, очень субъективно...
Виктория В писал(а):Думаю, такая точка зрения у Вилар не может считаться альтернативной, поскольку она списала своего Ричарда с героя Шекспира со всеми вытекающими оттуда последствиями.
Да нет, если верить Симоне Вилар, историку по образованию, она не Шекспиром вдохновлялась, а лекциями и занятиями в университете. Именно там и возник замысел ее романа. И потом она долго и мучительно бродила по всевозможным архивам в Москве, где, по всей видимости, и нашла материалы, которых нет ни в хрониках, написанных при Йорках, ни в хрониках, написанных при Тюдорах.
Но так или иначе, а Шекспир, приукрасив, если выразиться мягко, образ Ричардам дополнительными злодействами, списывал информацию с Томаса Мора и Ко, а такая точка зрения все же существует сегодня в исторических кругах. Так что это дает право писателям ее использовать. Другой вопрос - получится ли? Ведь единственное, в чем можно Ричарда обвинить, не нарушая ни в чем исторической достоверности, - это в убийстве племянников. При всем ужасе, этого мало для тирана, деспота и народного мучителя...
Виктория В писал(а):Это называется восполнять лакуны в истории, чем грешат даже серьезные историки.
Восполнять лакуны - это как раз про принцев, где убийца неизвестен и неясен.
А придумывать позор Ричарда в битве при Уикфилде, в которой тот не участвовал в свои 8 лет и вообще был далеко от места сражения, придумывать пожар, в котором сгорела Жакетта Риверс, придумывать марш Анна Невилл через всю Англию в компании рыцарей неизвестного рода - это уже не лакуны, это отсебятина.
Госпожа Филиппа Грегори тоже хороша: умолчала о том, что Ричард публично отрекся от племянницы и мужа ей нашел. Вроде незначительная деталька, но как она влияет на образ Ричарда. В результате получаем то, что получаем.
Dagmar писал(а):Где ты там Анну то разглядела? Бедняжке не до танцев в тот момент было.)))
Так все равно похожа дама на заднем плане.
Dagmar писал(а):Так хочется зайти на ее фейсбук и написать какую нибудь гадость.
Девочки, мы выше, выше этого! Лучше зайти в твиттер к Анайрину и написать ему о нашей любви.
Dagmar писал(а):Теперь требуют продолжения. Какое вам продолжение? Тюдоров идите смотрите, вот вам продолжение.
Я точно не буду ЭТО смотреть.
Пусть все поклонники Тюдоров сами разбираются, насколько образы Генри и Лизки романтизированы.
...
Dagmar:
27.10.13 16:25
Виктория В писал(а):Очень жду дальнейших таких "ужасов".
Эх, теперь их боюсь мало будет, показ в штатах закончен.)
La comtesse писал(а):И потом она долго и мучительно бродила по всевозможным архивам в Москве, где, по всей видимости, и нашла материалы, которых нет ни в хрониках, написанных при Йорках, ни в хрониках, написанных при Тюдорах.
По архивам
Москвы? А что ж не по архивам Пекина или Сиднея?
La comtesse писал(а):Так все равно похожа дама на заднем плане.
Еще раз вернулась и посмотрела - нет ее там.
Насколько я помню ту серию, она вовсе не танцевала...
La comtesse писал(а):Девочки, мы выше, выше этого! Лучше зайти в твиттер к Анайрину и написать ему о нашей любви.
У меня нет твиттера, а то бы я ему каждый день писала как его люблю, пока ему не надоест и он меня не заблокирует.
La comtesse писал(а):Я точно не буду ЭТО смотреть.
Я вообще надеюсь, что им не дадут денег на это убожество.
...
Виктория В:
27.10.13 16:39
La comtesse писал(а): Виктория В писал(а):Думаю, такая точка зрения у Вилар не может считаться альтернативной, поскольку она списала своего Ричарда с героя Шекспира со всеми вытекающими оттуда последствиями.
Да нет, если верить Симоне Вилар, историку по образованию, она не Шекспиром вдохновлялась, а лекциями и занятиями в университете. Именно там и возник замысел ее романа. И потом она долго и мучительно бродила по всевозможным архивам в Москве, где, по всей видимости, и нашла материалы, которых нет ни в хрониках, написанных при Йорках, ни в хрониках, написанных при Тюдорах.
Образ Ричарда у Шекспира и Вилар одинаков. Но у Вилар, если не ошибаюсь, Ричард пытал свою мать, такого даже Шекспир по заданию "сверху" не писал.
La comtesse писал(а): Ведь единственное, в чем можно Ричарда обвинить, не нарушая ни в чем исторической достоверности, - это в убийстве племянников. При всем ужасе, этого мало для тирана, деспота и народного мучителя...
Нужно еще доказать, что убийство несовершеннолетних сыновей Эдуарда Четвертого было. Мы знаем об этом убийстве из слухов, распространяемых врагами Ричарда в 1483 году,- вот уж "надежный" источник информации
- причем слухи шли не с предполагаемого места убийства, а с противоположной стороны, из Франции, и из "признания" Тиррела в 1503 году, которое многие историки считают сомнительным.
La comtesse писал(а): Виктория В писал(а):Это называется восполнять лакуны в истории, чем грешат даже серьезные историки.
Восполнять лакуны - это как раз про принцев, где убийца неизвестен и неясен.
Никто из современников Бекингэма не обвинял его в убийстве принцев, об этом нет ни одного исторического свидетельства. Единственное, что говорит в пользу этой гипотезы это то, что профессор Кендалл счел будто убийство принцев Бекингэмом - это самое правдоподобное объяснение событий 1483 года. Пусть мои оппоненты меня извинят, но я не верю в убийство, которое не оставляет никаких следов. Нужно осторожно подходить к объяснению тайн истории, не приписывать без весомых причин преступления реальным людям. Нам тоже было бы неприятно, если бы нам приписали вымышленные преступления.
La comtesse писал(а):А придумывать позор Ричарда в битве при Уикфилде, в которой тот не участвовал в свои 8 лет и вообще был далеко от места сражения, придумывать пожар, в котором сгорела Жакетта Риверс, придумывать марш Анна Невилл через всю Англию в компании рыцарей неизвестного рода - это уже не лакуны, это отсебятина.
Одно дело умышленно представлять исторических деятелей в заведомо ложном и неприглядном виде, другое - изображать правдоподобные исторические ситуации, эти фантазии художественный жанр литературы допускает.
La comtesse писал(а):Госпожа Филиппа Грегори тоже хороша: умолчала о том, что Ричард публично отрекся от племянницы и мужа ей нашел. Вроде незначительная деталька, но как она влияет на образ Ричарда. В результате получаем то, что получаем.
Да, влияет.
Но, как я писала, признание Филиппы Грегори лучшим автором наших дней - мое субъективное мнение, мне нравится ее слог.
La comtesse писал(а): Dagmar писал(а):Так хочется зайти на ее фейсбук и написать какую нибудь гадость.
Девочки, мы выше, выше этого! Лучше зайти в твиттер к Анайрину и написать ему о нашей любви.
Поддерживаю.
...
La comtesse:
27.10.13 21:41
Нашла на просторах Дайри
.
Краткое изложение сериала
"Белая королева". На английском, но и так все понятно, кто в школе хоть немного учил...
Edward: I want you.
Elizabeth: You can’t have me.
Jaquetta: I see dead people.
Warwick: Edward!
Edward: Let’s get married. Secretly.
Elizabeth: Cool!
Anthony: He’s lying to you.
Elizabeth: No, he’s not.
Edward: No, I’m not.
Warwick: Edward!
Elizabeth: Curtsey, scum!
Elizabeth: Edward, Warwick hates you!
Edward: No, he loves me.
Warwick: No, she’s right. I hate you now.
Isobel: Anne! I’ve just found out I’m a pawn!
Henry VI: I could be wrong, but I think I might be Jesus.
Elizabeth: I’ve just been told my father’s dead.
Audience: So have we.
Margaret Beaufort: My son will be king!
Gloucester: Hang on, I’m pretty sure I just foreshadowed that I’ll be king.
Elizabeth: I’m going to put a curse on a bunch of people.
Audience. Knock yourself out. I think we’ve lost interest.
Warwick: You’re my prisoner, Edward!
Edward: I’m your King, cousin!
Warwick: Where did he go?
Elizabeth: Off with their heads!
Edward: No, I’ve decided to forgive them.
Elizabeth: Off with their heads!
Edward: I’m your King, wife!
Isobel: I’m still a pawn.
Gloucester: Shouldn’t I be taking a ring to Mount Doom?
Margaret Beaufort: I had sex. Didn’t enjoy it.
Elizabeth: I need a son, mother.
Jaquetta: Sorted.
Welles: I’m confused.
Jaspeer Tudor: You’re confused?!
Elizabeth: I want Warwick’s ship to sink, mother.
Jaquetta: Sorted.
Elizabeth: I’m a witch! I do bad things!
Isobel: It’s all Daddy’s fault!
George: I’m not going to be king?
Warwick: No, but I can still make you rich.
George: I’m changing sides again.
Anne: Izzie! I’m a pawn, too!
Warwick: Anne, sit down. When I was six, right before I married your mother, my father said I could choose any girl in England to be my bride. Now she, of course, had no say in it but I, a six year old boy, was free do make my own decisions.
Anne: What are you saying, Daddy?
Warwick: See, now, that was what we call sarcasm, poppet. It’s a crying shame that this version of you is such a clueless bint!
Anne: Yes, Daddy. Daddy, why can’t I marry for love?
Warwick: *sigh* Because you’re a pawn.
Anne: Oh.
Herbert: Here I am, all curly hair and swirly cloak, come to take back my castle.
Margaret Beauofrt: You’ve been dead for two years!
Herbert: Silence, woman! I’ll die later, I promise.
Anne: The Bad Queen’s coming!
Margaret of Anjou: Kneel!
Warwick: I am kneeling.
Margaret of Anjou: Kneel some more!
Elizabeth Mother, let’s go do some witchy stuff.
Cecily: Backstory, backstory, backstory.
Jaquetta: Backstory. Backstory.
Cecily: My backstory’s more tragic than yours.
Jaquetta: Foreshadow, foreshadow. Backstory, infodump.
Lady Sutcliffe: Isobel, you’re a limping gazelle.
Isobel: Yes, I am.
Margaret Beaufort: Henry, have I mentioned you’re going to be king one day?
Elizabeth: Mother’s been arrested for being a witch!
Jaquetta: It’s a fair cop.
Elizabeth: Warwick’s coming! I’ll just nip down the street to sanctuary.
Anne: I’m marrying a goth. I’d rather be marrying a hobbit.
Edward Prince of Wales: A psychopathic goth! Now, just lie still and get ready for bad Lancastrian sex.
Henry Tudor: I get it now, Mother! One day, I’m going to be king.
Henry VI: Am I still Jesus?
Warwick: You’re king again. See the pretty cardboard crown?
Elizabeth: The baby’s coming.
Jaquetta: It’s a boy!
Margaret of Anjou: I have ominous feet.
Edward: I’ve just appeared out of nowhere and snuck into London while no-one was looking.
Elizabeth: My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble!
Edward: Now let’s fuck!
Isobel: I’m a limping gazelle.
Warwick: Suck it up, Duchess!
Margaret Beaufort: I’m the centre of the universe and so is my son.
Stafford: You’re not, but I love you anyway. You selfish cow.
Margaret of Anjou: Come here. Anne, and let me insult you.
Jaquetta: Come. my witchy daughter. Bring the baby witch and we shall raise a mist!
George: Warwick’s got three times as many men as we have.
Edward: Well, I counted 15, so that puts his army at 45. And where did this bloody mist come from? I can’t see my hand in front of my face!
Messenger: Message for you, my lord.
Warwick: Who from?
Messenger: He didn’t say. He wants to meet you at the Black Horse Pub and Restaurant. Said it was important.
Second Messenger: Your Grace, chap says he has to talk to you. Urgent, he reckons.
Edward: I’m about to fight a really lame battle!
Second Messenger: He said it’ll only take a moment.
Interlude in the Black Horse
Montagu: What the hell’s going on, brother?
Warwick: About to fight the battle of Barnet. Why?
Montagu: Without me?
Hastings: I’m not there, either. I’m surprised none of you has noticed.
Montagu: It’s not the only thing they’ve got wrong. Remember Lord Welles? The Queen with real magical powers? William Herbert walking and talking two years after his head was cut off? Did none of it make you stop and think?
Warwick: I remember I was on my way to Alnwick Castle, then suddenly I was riding through a forest with Edward.
Edward: Yes, it’s all rather odd, isn’t it?
Gloucester: Well, I heard it’s because the truth can be pretty boring.
Hastings: Or that the average television viewer is too stupid to understand the real complexities of real history.
Warwick: So, John, any chance you can join me? Might even up the odds a little.
Edward: Well, I’m down Hastings. Seems pretty fair to me.
Gloucester: Speaking of Hastings…
Hastings: You’ll just have to make do with a Wydeville or two, I suppose.
Gloucester: It won’t be the same!
Warwick: Well, I’m not enjoying being a total prick married to an ice queen with two clueless bints as daughters.
Clarence: A clueless bint and a limping gazelle.
Warwick: And what’s all this ‘kingmaker’ nonsense?
Edward: Oh, stop moaning, cousin! You’ll be out of it quicker than I will. What with your hardened troop of 45 soldiers up against my 15.
Warwick: Can I hold you to that?
Edward: Let’s just get back to it, ok? I’ll see what I can do.
Anne: Daddy’s dead!
Edward Prince of Wales: Snarl, scowl, glower, snarl.
Anne: They’re not going to feel sad when you die, the way you’re going.
Edward Prince of Wales; Don’t care!
Anne: I want Mummy!
Margaret of Anjou: Bitch, snide, snark, bitch.
Margaret Beaufort: Now, I see dead people!
Edward: Let’s all be magnanimous and sentimental in victory, even though we don’t actually stop by London on the way to Tewkesbury.
Gloucester; Yes, let’s!
Clarence: Do we have to? I’d rather be sulky and snidy.
Margaret of Anjou: I’m a crazy French bitch!
Lancastrian army: Yay!
Margaret of Anjou: The time has come… to lipsynch for your lives.
Messenger: We’ve lost! Aaaaarrrrgh!
Margaret of Anjou: Run away!
Soldiers: Get off your horse woman, and get ready for bad Yorkist sex!
Gloucester: Don’t worry, Anne! I shall save you.
Margaret of Anjou: Leave me alone, little hobbit.
Margaret Beaufort: I know you’re dying, husband, but I just need to think only about myself for a bit. Is that all right? Bye.
Jasper Tudor: I’m Welsh and sexy.
Margaret Beaufort; Look after your uncle, son, he’s Welsh and sexy.
Gloucester: I’ll take care of you, Anne.
Anne: Will that involve a healing shag?
Gloucester: I rather think it will.
Margaret Beaufort: My husband’s dead. I wish I’d been nicer to him now.
Elizabeth: *gasp* I’ve just watched my husband smother Jesus in his underwear!
Edward: See my shiny cardboard crown!
Anne: Yes, I was married to the Prince of Wales. But I didn’t like him.
Edward: That’s all right, then.
Elizabeth: I still hate you!
Isobel: I’m going to be a bitch, now. I’m over the limping gazelle thing.
Anne: Where’s Mummy?
Isobel: Forget Mummy!
Clarence: Look at me, pretending to be nice.
Isobel: Bitch fight!
Margaret Beaufort: Give me a sign.
Messenger: Your mother’s dying.
Margaret Beaufort: *high fives God* Yesss!
Elizabeth: Jane Shore! The name of doom! She’s going to make everything go in slow motion, just you watch.
Margaret Beaufort: Dear Jasper, do you still want me?
Anne: I want Mummy!
Jaquetta: I’m dying. You’ll be senior witch soon, Elizabeth. Can you handle it?
Anne: Can I have my healing shag, now?
Gloucester: Soon, I promise.
Anne: George wants to keep my stuff!
Gloucester: I want your stuff as well, but I can pretend not to, if you like.
Jasper: Dear Margaret, no, I don’t want you.
Margaret Beaufort: Bloody buggery! I’ll marry Frodo instead. What will you tell him, Sir Reginald?
Sir Reg: Well, probably not that you’re demented.
Anne: Flatter, crawl, schmooze, flatter.
Isobel: Respond, reward, bask, respond.
Anthony Wydeville: I can feel some foreshadowing coming on. Something to do with your son, Liz. I’m going to make a rash promise I’m sure I’ll live to regret.
Elizabeth: But not for long.
Anne: Healing shag?
Gloucester: Patience!
Anne: I don’t need you, anyway!
Clarence: Get thee to a nunnery!
Sir Reg: How about Stanley, Lady Wrong Title? No, bear with me, I’ve got some foreshadowing that might help you decide.
Margaret Beaufort: Ok, sounds good.
Clarence: Jane Shore!
Anne: Richard, help me!
Gloucester: Run away!
Anne: Aren’t we going to do the cookshop thing, then?
Gloucester: They decided it was too farfetched.
Anne: *facepalm*
Gloucester: Will you marry me?
Anne: You just want my stuff!
Gloucester: But I’m also going to pretend to love you. Can’t say fairer than that.
Anne: Are we getting any closer to that healing shag?
Gloucester: How about a snog for starters?
Magaret Beaufort: Let’s get married.
Stanley: Ok.
Margaret Beaufort: Not going to sleep with you but.
Stanley: Oh, that’s a relief! But you’ll have to be nice to the Queen.
Woman: The Queen might die!
Elizabeth: I’m ok, actually. Sorry about all the screaming.
Anne: Healing shag time! Yay!
Isobel: Why am I the only one who doesn’t get to have sex?
Margaret: I’m not, either.
Stanley: Nor me. Despite how alluring my new bride is in her nightie.
Anne: Mummy’s a coldhearted bitch!
Isobel: I love you!
Anne: I love you, too!
Elizabeth: Jane Shore!
Edward: She means nothing! You’re the only one that matters. And when I professed my undying love for you and only you back in episode 1, you knew I didn’t mean it.
Margaret Beaufort: I think I’m being set up to murder the Princes.
Edward: I’m a shagger.
Elizabeth: I’m a breeder.
Stanley: I’m a schemer.
Margaret Beaufort: To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be.
Clarence: Let’s go to France!
Edward: I’d rather shag. But why the hell not?
Gloucester: I’ve not forgotten you’re a derp, George.
Clarence: And I’ve not forgotten that you’ve got Warwick Castle, despite the fact that you live at Middleham.
Gloucester: It’s just this pesky truth thing, George. It’s so utterly boring.
Margaret Beaufort: That’s right! I’m a prayer. Oh, and I need another sign.
Woman: Destiny calls!
Margaret Beaufort: Good one, God!
Elizabeth: It’s a boy!
Margaret Beaufort: Here, let me save his life so I can have an attack of conscience when I decide to kill him and his brother in, let’s say, episode 9, just before I send him off to be Perkin Warbeck. Oh, look, he’s breathing.
Elizabeth: I’ll stop being mean to you now.
Margaret Beaufort: Seriously, God… Score!
Anne: I’ve got a baby boy, too. Oh, and he’s frail and angelic®, just like his Dad.
Countess of Warwick: Coldhearted sneer.
Anne: Lock her up!
Gloucester: Done!
Countess: Help me, Anne!
Anne: No, I’m going to stamp my foot and whine, just like a little girl!
Clarence: I’m going to be King of France!
Elizabeth: You can’t be King of France!
Clarence: Can!
Elizabeth: Can’t!
Clarence: Can!
Anthony: I hate war! I’m going to Rome. Bye.
Gloucester: George is going to be King of France.
Isobel: I’m pregnant again. And I still haven’t had sex!
Margaret Beaufort: Dear son, I hate everyone. Except you.
Anne: George is mean and greedy.
Isobel: No, he’s just misunderstood.
Elizabeth: Curse, sneer, bitch, curse.
Isobel: The Queen just cursed us! She’s a witch! And she sent that storm, remember? In episode 3. The one that killed my first child. As storms are well known for doing. Please don’t ask me how I know that, I just do.
Edward: Louis wants to pay us to go away.
Gloucester: No! Let’s fight him!
Clarence: I want to be King of France. You promised!
Gloucester: Well, I’m not taking the money.
Clarence: Can we at least throw Exeter overboard on the way back?
Gloucester: Who’s Exeter?
Clarence: Exeter! You know! Fought at Barnet. Was married to our sister, Anne.
Gloucester: Doesn’t ring a bell. And we only have one sister. I don’t think she has a name. Haven’t seen our around for a while. Wonder what she’s up to.
Clarence: I’m not going to be King of France. So I shall make some unsubstantiated claim about plotting with Louis XI to take the throne of England instead.
Isobel: The Queen’s a witch!
Clarence: I’ll sort it.
Gloucester: I don’t want this French money.
Anne: Then send it back.
Gloucester: Well, it’s here now…
Countess of Warwick: Anne, I’m going to tell you something that makes it clear that whoever wrote this didn’t read the primary sources very well.
Anne: It’s episode 7, Mother. Tell me something I don’t know!
Isobel: George says. George says. George says. Oh, Anne, I think I’m turning back into a limping gazelle!
Elizabeth: George, it’s confrontation time.
Clarence: This isn’t going to end well. I’m off home to commit treason by sorcery.
Elizabeth: Good luck with that.
Isobel: I’ve been poisoned by the Queen! Where’s. My. Sex?
Clarence: Isobel’s dead. And I think there’s an implication that I poisoned her so that I can blame the Queen. Is there no end to my evil?
Elizabeth: Edward! George just called me a witch!
Edward: Well, you are.
Elizabeth: Yes, but I don’t want anyone to know. Meanwhile, I think I’ll turn Anne against him.
Anne: Richard, is it true that you can divorce me and keep my stuff?
Gloucester: In this version it would seem to be.
Anne: Well, in this version George poisoned Isobel.
Gloucester: Amongst other things. It’s just that the truth is…
Anne: Boring. I know. Still, I think the twelve people still watching deserve a little better.
Edward: Let’s parteh!
George: Let me foreshadow from behind this clever mask. Then I think I’ll rant for a while.
Edward: Damn you for spoiling my party! Seize him!
Clarence: Help! I’ve been seized!
Cecily: Oh, please don’t let them kill my ickle Georgiekins!
Elizabeth: Confide, angst, ponder, confide.
Margaret Beaufort: You think you’ve got problems, bitch?
Cecily: Georgiepoohs would never do anything wrong. Watch me beg!
Clarence: Hang on, can we just stop for a bit. Anne’s cookshop schtick was too farfetched, yeah? But it’s perfectly ok to tell the twelve people still watching that I poisoned my wife; and we’re actually going to do the whole butt of malmsey thing?
Executioner: So it would seem.
Clarence: Ok, cool. Just getting it straight in my head.
Gloucester: Half hearted attempt to save George way too late.
Anne: Let’s go home to Warwick Castle. Even though we live at Middleham.
Stanley: There’s a lot of people need to die before your son can become king, Margaret.
Margaret Beaufort: Right… Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret.
Jasper Tudor: Henry Tudor, I shall use your full name so our thick as two planks audience has half a chance to work out who you are. Oh, and I’m still Welsh. Still sexy.
Margaret Beaufort: My son’s coming home!
Elizabeth: Has the King made a decision without consulting me? Again?
Edward: Who shall I shag today?
Lizzie: Daddy, you’re getting fat!
Edward: Princess Elizabeth, I shall use your title so our thick as two short planks audience has half a chance to work out who you are. I’m allowed to get fat. I’m King!
Elizabeth: Edward, you’re going to die!
Edward: No, I’m not.
Margaret Beaufort. My son. King. God. All that.
Edward: I think you’re right, Elizabeth. I’m going to die. Fetch Richard!
Gloucester: The King’s dying, we’re off to London.
Anne: Can I just do this spot of foreshadowing before we leave?
Richard: Got here in the nick of time!
Cecily: Take the throne, Richard.
Edward: I’ll never get to see what kind of king my son will make.
Omnes: Neither will anyone else.
Edward: Ok, haven’t got time to mess around with missing wills and disputed codicils. Richard, you’re Lord Protector.
Elizabeth: Damn! That means I can’t make young Edward my puppet.
Gloucester: Can anyone explain why I’m here?
Edward: I trust Richard.
Elizabeth: Have you not been paying attention? All that foreshadowing just went straight past you, didn’t it?
Stanley: One down.
Margaret Beaufort: Four to go.
Anne: Aren’t you glad this writer rediscovered all us forgotten women and retold our stories in such an accurate way?
Cecily: Forgotten? Tell me, who do you imagine would forget me?
Margaret Beaufort: It’s God’s work.
Elizabeth: Ah, this is obviously some strange use of the word accurate that I wasn’t previously aware of. Someone fetch my son so he can be my puppet.
Cecily: Take the throne, Richard.
Gloucester: No.
Anne: Yes. Take the throne. The Queen’s a bitch. What more reason do you need?
Gloucester: I know. I’ll sort it. Jane Shore.
Anne: Throw the whore out!
Jane Shore: I’ll go plot with Hastings. Where the hell has he got to?
Jasper Tudor: You’re not going to England now, Henry Tudor.
Henry Tudor: Then why did you send that girl away? I wasn’t finished!
Edward V: I’m a snivelling brat. There, that should forestall any viewer empathy.
Gloucester: I promised your father I’d keep you safe.
Edward V: Well, not doing a brilliant job so far, are you?
Gloucester: It gets worse.
Edward V: I want Mummy!
Anne: Too bad. So sad.
Elizabeth: I’m going to refer to my son, Richard Grey, by his full name so our thick as two short planks audience has half a chance to work out who he is. Then I think I’ll go to sanctuary.
Lizzie: Mum, we’re witches, right? You and Grandma used your power to make you Queen. And that storm in the Channel, remember? And the mist at Barnet? Why don’t we just magic this all right?
Elizabeth: Erm…
Lizzie: Aren’t we even going to try?
Elizabeth: There is no try, Lizzie. We don’t use magic unless we know it’s going to work. This all ended badly for us so, obviously…
Lizzie: That’s just silly!
Elizabeth: I don’t make the rules.
Anthony Wydeville: I’m a trusting fool!
Stanley: Let me explain all of this to you, Margaret.
Margaret Beaufort: And I’ll join in once I get where it’s going.
Buckingham: I’m going to use Thomas Grey and Edward Rivers’ full names…
Gloucester: And job description.
Buckingham: Yes, that too.
Gloucester: I feel funny. Was that the last of my loyalty to my brother draining away?
Cecily: Take the throne, Richard.
Anne: Take the throne, Richard. The Queen’s a witch. Though, oddly, she doesn’t seem to be using magic this time around.
Gloucester: Arrest everyone!
Anne: Daddy! Daddy! I’m going to be Queen! See me sitting on the Queen chair?
Margaret Beaufort: Ooops!
Anne: Oh, what a give away!
Jane Shore: I’m sleeping with your brother now. Can I come in? I’ve brought vegetables.
Elizabeth: You’re sleeping with Anthony?
Jane Shore: Well, Hastings is still nowhere to be found, so…
Margaret Beaufort: Gossip, manipulate, insinuate, gossip.
Elizabeth: I believe every word you say!
Brackenbury: Anthony’s sleeping with Jane Shore. Arrest him!
Anthony Wydeville: But I’m nice!
Brackenbury: Kill everyone!
Anne: Yes, kill everyone.
Jane Shore: I might be a whore walking half naked through London, but I’ve got me pride.
Anthony Wydeville: Dear Richard, please don’t kill me.
Some dude, I think it might be Buckingham but I’m not sure that makes much sense: Give me your other son.
Elizabeth: No.
Possible Buckingham: Yes.
Elizabeth: No.
Oh, this is just getting silly, all this ‘he turned against Richard, so he must have been against him from the start’, Buckingham: Veiled warning.
Elizabeth: Oh, all right. Come back tomorrow. Quick, get young Richard out of here so he can go be Perkin Warbeck. Now, it’s time for magic. Because I know how this is going to end, I can safely curse Gloucester, confident that it won’t fail. See how it works, Lizzie? I might just throw in a withered arm. And while I’m at it, I might as well curse his wife and son as well.
Anne: Plot, scheme, conspire, plot.
Gloucester: Ow! My arm hurts all of a sudden.
Anne: The Queen’s cursed you! God, I’m good at this.
Cecily: Take the throne, Richard.
Gloucester: Go and execute a few people, Brackenbury.
Brackenbury: Hastings?
Gloucester: Who the hell is this Hastings everyone keeps going on about? Just execute Anthony Wydeville, Richard Grey and anyone else you happen to run into.
Brackenbury: Arrest Stanley! Search the house!
Margaret Beaufort: That’s my God stuff! Don’t touch it! And I’m demented, so you’d better just back off.
Brackenbury: On second thoughts, don’t arrest Stanley.
Buckingham: I’m slimy.
Stanley: Bet you’re not as slimy as me.
Elizabeth: Here, take this ring in child. No-one will notice.
Anne: Take the throne, Richard.
Gloucester: What do you want me to do, Anne? Take the throne or something?
Cecily: Take the throne.
Anne: Take the throne.
Cecily: Bombshell, revelation, bigamy, bombshell.
Gloucester: Everyone knows about that!
Anne: Oh, just take the throne, ffs!
Anthony Wydeville: Let’s work together, Richard.
Gloucester: Nope. Can’t trust you. Besides, I’m going to be King.
Lizzie: Hysterical foreshadowing!
Elzabeth: You can’t know that!
Lizzie: Oh, Mother, please! You forget I’m a witch.
Edward V: Hey, fake brother, come and watch this. Two guys are getting their heads chopped off!
Fake Richard: Cool!
Anthony Wydeville: Aren’t we supposed to be at Pontefract?
Richard Grey: Oh, just put your head down and stop complaining. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we’re out of here.
Anne: Look at me, in my Queen clothes!
Gloucester: Well, that was easier than I expected.
Margaret Beaufort: Is it time for me to smother the Princes yet?
Chorus: Pray pardon, gentle reader, for what lies beneath these words
It bears no examination. In truth, it is absurd.
Each episode was watched in stubborn, willful bliss
For just one simple purpose, which was to take the piss.
But now I fear – alas! – our chronicler’s insane
For rhyming couplets freely fall from her poor fevered brain.
She begs your kind indulgence for this travesty
And pleads for your forgiveness for her lack of gravity.
If not for this small service, the blogging to be done,
She’d not have watched the bloody thing past episode one.
King Richard: I shall recite your name, and after that your title
That the audience keeps up with us is rather more than vital.
Anne: And I’ll sit here, upon my throne, and look down my nose.
See my shiny crown! Admire my queenly pose!
Elizabeth: Those blasted bells across the way make such an awful noice!
But I believe England shall rise in the name of Edward’s boice!
Lizzie: I’m standing here, in sanctuary’s gloom
Pronouncing, pouting, words of doom.
Stanley: With Buk and Thomas Grey we’ll go within the hour
And rescue both the Princes from their prison in the Tower.
Margaret: Just hold a moment, think awhile on that great revolution
While I concoct in my dark mind a more elegant solution.
Anne: And for my part, I’ll drop a hint into Sir Robert’s head.
Brackenbury: What say your Grace? You think the Princes might be better dead?
Elizabeth: King Richard wants to cut a deal.
Morton: Buk has a better one, I feel.
Stanley: I’ll to the Tower at once, my dear, and kill the little king.
Margaret: It is the will of God, I fear, that we do this bad thing.
And by that simple act, my son’s claim is cemented.
Now I’ll just wait here till it’s done, looking quite demented.
Thomas Grey: We creep along the Tower walls; we’re up to no darned good.
I think I must have strayed into a scene from Robin Hood!
I must tell Mum that our plan’s derailed.
Lizzie: You might ask Margaret Beaufort why it failed.
Margaret: Stop messing with me, God, and please give me a sign!
I’ll meet my husband in the wood and have a little whine
Then I’ll talk to Buckingham although he’s slightly thick.
As noble as he is – on the uptake, none too quick.
Buckingham: But your son will then be king. You know it should be me!
Margaret: Well, let’s just get it done, and then we’ll wait and see.
Lizzie: I petulantly explain it all to Mum
I’m sick of sanctuary! It’s so humdrum!
As a teenager, I think you’ll find it is my job to moan,
To sulk and sigh and lie abed, to roll my eyes and groan.
Elizabeth: You do that, dear. I’ll wander round and sadly reminisce
About my sweet dead husband who I so loved to kiss.
I’ll wander round like this, I fear, for days and days and days,
And lean against this handy wall, inhabiting a haze.
Margaret: This letter’s just a narrative device
Weeks of action montaged in a trice.
Stanley: News from my wife, your Grace, unless I’ve misconstrued her.
She says that Princess Lizzie is to marry Henry Tudor.
King Richard: I must repeat again how very much I need
The loyalty of Stanley, so his eventual deed
Of treachery and treason is most clearly foreseen
By everyone but me, until the final scene.
Anne: You might trust him but you’ll see
He cannot hide from me duplicity.
I know what’s going to happen, good and bad and worse.
Remember how I recognised that awful nasty curse
The witchy Wydeville Queen put upon your arm?
Lock Lady Margaret up so she cannot do you harm!
King Richard: Buckingham spread a rumour foul about the Princes’ fate!
Anne: Oh, prick me not, foul conscience! It is far, far too late!
Morton: Your sons are dead, hey nonny no!
By your shocked face, you didn’t know!
Elizabeth: I shall look stunned and whisper underneath my breath
And demonstrate denial of my sweet baby’s death.
For, as you may not know, one has escaped to Flanders.
Morton: King Richard did this, have no doubt! I go to spread the slanders.
Elizabeth: Morton, while you were talking, I figured it all out.
It makes so little sense and now I start to doubt.
Which explains my willingness to leave
And to usurping Richard cleave.
Because, of course, the freedom and the future of my daughters
Is not enough on it’s own to set aside these slaughters.
And now, so suddenly, this moment, I have at last caught on
To the idea that, perhaps, I can’t quite trust this Morton.
He knows too many details, of pillows that did smother
My most precious jewel and the one who stood in for his brother.
Lizzie: Henry Tudor is held back from the sea.
Mum! That must be down to you and me!
I get it now, I understand, I see how this thing goes.
We don’t cast spells, no, not at all, unless history knows
The outcome of events, whether they be good or tragic
Oh, Mother, dear. Come here! Come here! I think it’s time for magic.
Elizabeth: We’ll send a storm! Been done, I know.
We’re good at rain, but not at snow.
Yes, I have turned a battle but just in case your doubtin
I had a hand in Barnet but cast no spells at Towton.
Henry Tudor: I want to sail to England but there’s this bloody storm!
I’m going back inside the house where it’s nice and safe and warm.
King Richard: Dear Anne, I’m getting soaking wet out here in the open.
My men are cold and weary, I fear they’re just not copin.
Buckingham: Dear Margaret, all is lost, that much is clear.
King Richard: I’m in the Tower. My nephews are not here!
Margaret: I’ll burn all of these letters, now our chance is lost
Our plans lie in tatters and the Channel’s not been crossed.
Anne: Richard, please, burn the witch! Then do come home and rest.
King Richard: I’m sorry, darling Anne, but I think I am obsessed.
Buckingham’s the murderer, I’m sure. It has to be!
Yet before his bloody death, him I’ll refuse to see.
You’d think that a way out of this mess,
See Buk before he dies, make him confess.
Anne: O guilt! O guilt! Be still, I pray. Show not upon my face.
King Richard: And even though history knows we weren’t in the same place
I’ll witness the head of Buckingham rolling on the ground.
And the one who killed the Princes never will be found.
You know, that’s really lame, it makes not a lick of sense.
But I suppose it could explain the total lack of evidence.
Stanley: You’re a traitor, Mags, you’ll burn for treason.
Margaret: Does my face show I’ve lost all reason?
I’ll run away! I’ll go to France, escape this almighty cock up.
Stanley: I’m sorry dear, you won’t do that, you’ll be in the lock up.
King Richard: It’s all gone wrong, I don’t know why. I’ve stuffed it up completely.
Elizabeth: What makes you think I’ll shake your hand and smile at you so sweetly?
King Richard: An argument will rage, five hundred years from now.
‘He didn’t show their bodies. And that’s precisely how
We know he didn’t kill them.’ I’m quite convinced.
It’s not my fault at all the Tower was deprinced.
Lizzie: He’s drawn his sword! A metaphor! My heart beats in a rush.
I think I’ve fallen suddenly into an awesome crush!
Oh, I know it’s stupid. Of all the men to pick on
I’ve fallen for the wrongest one, my married Uncle Dickon!
Elizabeth: We’ll curse whoever killed my son, me and little Lizzie.
Lizzie: My God! I swoon! Those big brown eyes of his have made me dizzy.
But yes, they’ll have no sons, these evil men.
King Richard: And gazing at you, I’ll foreshadow once again.
Lizzie: Oh, Mummy! You know how much I do love a cursing!
Even though I know it is my own doom I am nursing.
See, the murderer is none but my future husband’s mother
And thus I doom the eighth Henry’s darling older brother.
Who’ll be my firstborn son, one day in time to come
And from this very curse of ours – alas! – he shall succumb.
King Richard: The witches cursed whoever killed the kid.
Anne: Then I am cursed, for I believe I did.
King Richard: I’ll send the Queen to Grafton, so very far away
But Princess Lizzie I’ll keep close so I might have my way.
Lizzie: The Tudor match is off which makes me dance with joy.
Elizabeth: How else will you be Queen? He’s the only likely boy.
Lizzie: I’ll play at cards and cause my pulse to quicken
When I think of ruling beside my Uncle Dickon.
Chorus: And so Buckingham rebelled and lost his pretty head.
The Princes in the Tower are most wretchedly dead.
Oh, except the little one who even now is lurkin
Somewhere on the Continent, waiting to be Perkin.
Elizabeth: I’ve gone home. I expect I shall get lots of visitors!
Margaret Beaufort: My son. Rightful throne.
Stanley: Ever thought you might be wrong?
Margaret Beaufort: Me?
Stanley: I don’t think God likes you anymore.
Anne: My son is sick!
Richard: Stop fussing, woman! Henry Tudor is to marry Princess Lizzie. That means I’ll have to move quickly to satisfy my metaphorical sword-drawing lust while pretending to my wife that nothing’s going on. Hang on, wait… My brother’s daughter? Oh, God! Really?
Anne: Best not to think about it too much. I mean, I’m turning into an insufferable middle class snob. No wonder I never get invited to parties.
Prince Teddy: Bleurgh!
Anne: Just give me a moment to be a passive-aggressive bitch to the Witch Queen’s daughters and I’ll be right with you. Lizzie, Cecily. I’m Queen and you’re not. Kindly suck on that, please.
Richard: *looms ominously*
Lizzie: Do me now! Right now! On the floor, if you like.
Anne: *creeps ominously*
Lizzie: *dances suggestively*
Margaret Beaufort: I’ve got a table covered with fruit and no bugger to throw it at. Ah, Stanley! There you are!
Stanley: The King wants to bonk Princess Lizzie. And she wants to bonk him.
Margaret Beaufort: He’s her uncle. No, bear with me, this is going to be worth it. I know there was a contemporary rumour which was publicly denied. And that letter Buck claims to have seen, the one where Lizzie says she hopes the Queen dies quickly so she can marry Richard? And then there’s the whole no smoke/fire thing. But, what the hey! I mean, we’ve done the Witchy Wydeville thing and I’m celibate years before the fact and… Oh, God, I’ll need a week to go through the list…
Stanley: Margaret?
Margaret Beaufort: Sorry. You were saying?
Stanley: Just a spot of foreshadowing. Barren Queen, weak son, pretty niece… You join the dots.
Margaret Beaufort: I think I’ll just say whore a couple of times and storm out.
Anne: We’re cursed for accidentally killing the Princes!
Richard: Now, take your clothes off so I can lie to you about me and Lizzie.
Anne: We must rush to our dying son’s bedside. Richard, put down that illegitimate whore and come with me. No need to hurry, I’m running in slo-mo.
Richard: I shall shout helplessly!
Anne: And I’ll get hysterical. No, I’m sorry, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I feel a bit of a rant coming on.
Queen Anne’s rant
I’ve put up with a lot, I really have. My mother turned into a coldhearted bitch. Rape at the hands of my first husband. The ‘Kingmaker’ thing… But this is it! There are two mothers in this who weren’t with their sons when they died, me and Elizabeth Wydeville. Now, I guess it was hard to have her there by her boys’ bedsides when they met whatever fate they met at whoever’s hands, but why me? Do you know where my son was when he died? Do you know where I was? Go to google maps. Type in ‘Sheriff Hutton to Nottingham’ and you’ll see we were a hundred miles apart. That’s four or five days away. And, see, that’s what makes the whole thing even sadder. Richard and I loved our son. And we weren’t there when he died! We didn’t even know he was ill till the news came. So, whoever it was decided they could make my life somehow better, more dramatic. Sadder. Who the hell do you think you are! My life was what it was. I’m not some stock fairytale character for you to manipulate. I was a real person, you know! And what do you think I wouldn’t have given to see my son one last time before he died? Hmmm?
Richard: Feeling better?
Anne: Yes, sorry. That just had to be said.
Lizzie: Let me comfort you, Uncle Dickon.
Anne: I think I’ll take to my bed for a bit.
Elizabeth: Dear Lizzie, this is all getting so confusing, what with the firstborn son thing and the high child mortality rate in the 15th century. Why, just today our blacksmith’s oldest son died and now I’m convinced he murdered your brothers! Maybe we should hold off on the curses for a while. See how things go.
Lizzie: I love you, Uncle Dickon. Let’s bonk!
Elizabeth: What’s going on, Lizzie?
Lizzie: Oh, Uncle Dickon is so dreamy! Dying Queen, dead son. All that. I’m going to be Queen!
Margaret Beaufort: Conspire, plot, incite, conspire.
Henry Tudor: I have a crap army!
Anne: I’m the Kingmaker’s daughter… Oh, God! Here we go again. Are you serious? The man who came up with that name hasn’t been born yet. Hell, his great grandfather hasn’t been born yet! Excuse me while I cough up blood and pray for death. Papa? Izzie? I’ll be there soon and we can have a lovely bitch about all this over a nice cup of tea.
Stanley: Dear Margaet, let me explain what’s going on.
Richard: Let me explain it all to you, Anne.
Anne: I don’t want to die guilty! Sir Robert, did I kill the Princes?
Brackenbury: No.
Anne: That’s all right then. My job here is done. I can die in peace. Papa! Get. Me. Out. Of. Here. Oh, and tell Izzie to put the kettle on.
Lizzie: Mummy! The sun’s going away! Did you do that?
Margaret Beaufort: It’s a sign! Let me explain…
Richard: Anne, come and see what’s happening to the sun. It’s really cool!
Anne: I’m dying, ffs! I can see Izzie. I hope she’s made scones.
Richard: It’s all gone tits up!
Margaret Beaufort: Princess Lizzie’s here. Brilliant! I can practice being the mother-in-law from Hell.
Cecily: Mummy, now that Henry Tudor’s on his way and going to marry Lizzie… You remember that curse?
Lizzie: Lady Margaret?
Margaret Beaufort: *bitch slap*
Henry Tudor: I’ve going to be King of this handful of sand I’ve just picked up.
Jasper: Still Welsh. Slightly less sexy now I have this godawful beard.
Margaret Beaufort: You chosen sides yet, Stanley?
Stanley: Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.
Richard: How many men has Henry Tudor got?
Brackenbury: Half what you have. So… Fourteen?
Lizzie: If I lean like this when I pray, you’ll get a nice shot of my cleavage. Lady Margaret, is Richard coming?
Margaret Beaufort: *bitch slap*
Lizzie: Richard loves me!
Margaret Beaufort: *double bitch slap*
Lizzie: You killed my brothers!
Margaret Beaufort: *total bitch slap*
Lizzie: I’m going to be Queen! Hah!
Margaret Beaufort: I need to sharpen my bitch slap.
Lord Strange: Grovel, cower, plead, grovel.
Richard: I’ll chop off your head if your father doesn’t fight for me.
Strange: Ok. Sounds good.
Henry Tudor: How long can we drag out this will Stanley/won’t Stanley thing?
Jasper: Let’s see, there’s about twenty minutes to go, so…
Henry Tudor: Dear Mummy, I might wet my pants.
Margaret Beaufort: I’ll sort it out. First I have to find Stanley and tell him my son is more important than his.
Stanley: Got that, thanks. Now please go away.
Margaret Beaufort: Oh, God! It’s Jasper!
Jasper: Welsh…
Margaret Beaufort: And sexy. Damn that vow of chastity! Can you excuse me while I have a psychotic episode?
Jasper: Go right ahead.
Stanley: Maybe she’s right. Maybe her son is more important than mine.
Margaret Beaufort: Henry, you didn’t hear me stay that stuff about you dying in a field, did you?
Henry Tudor: No, Mum.
Margaret Beaufort: Good. Coz you’re not, right?
Henry Tudor: No, Mum. Did you bring God?
Margaret Beaufort; Yes, son. Yes, I did.
Jasper: I shall go and tell our fourteen men where to stand.
Richard: Why don’t I have a proper suit of armour?
Brackenbury: Doesn’t matter. We’re going to kick their arses!
Richard: Stanley?
Brackenbury: Says he’ll be here.
Richard: Why is it snowing in August?
Jasper: Let’s creep through this forest and surprise them.
Henry Tudor: Yeah! We could jump out and shout ‘Surprise!’ and everything.
Jasper: You’re not much into this battle thing, are you?
Richard: Let’s do this thing!
Elizabeth: My secretly-sent-to-Flanders son has come home!
Prince Richard: Yeah, about that, Mum. How am I supposed to be Perkin if I’m here with you?
Elizabeth: I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m sure they’ll come up with a suitably ridiculous Perkin plot if the BBC goes ahead with the sequel.
Prince Richard: Can you ask them not to?
Elizabeth: Out of my hands, sorry.
Prince Richard: I’m going to ask you a question about my brother, Prince Edward, in case you’ve forgotten either his name or his royal title. Then I’m going to swear vengeance!
Elizabeth: Shush, dear, while Mummy voiceovers this lame battle.
Lord Strange: So, you going to kill me, then?
Richard: We’re kicking arse!
Jasper: Henry! Run away!
Henry Tudor: Stanley!
Stanley: Go the Tudors!
Richard: Shit… Urk.
Lizzie: I got a bad feeling.
William Stanley: I’ve found the crown.
Henry Tudor: Thanks. I’ve been King since yesterday, just so’s you know.
Margaret Beaufort: I’d high five you, God, only I don’t have the strength. Oh, and Stanley… *bitch slap*
Lizzie: Henry Tudor’s going to rape me now, isn’t he? Coz that’s what unsympathetic husbands do round these parts.
Elizabeth: Look on the bright side, dear. You’re going to be Queen. That’s a pretty cool job!
...
La comtesse:
15.11.13 18:39
Виктория В писал(а):Кристина, но это обвинение в адрес Анны Болейн и Ричарда Третьего существовало и до Филиппы Грегори. Наверно, она посчитала, что такой сюжет поднимет объем продажи ее романов.
Было обвинение, слухи, сплетни... но НИКТО в таких широких рамках не посмел выставить это за ДЕЙСТВИТЕЛЬНОСТЬ.
на самом деле, если я не ошибаюсь, Анну Болейн обвиняли, но никто ни тогда, ни теперь не верили в то, что она на самом деле изменяла генри с братом. Всем было понятно, что обвинение сфабриковано для того, чтобы Анну засудить.
А у Грегори в целях вполне понятных - растиражировать и разрекламировать книгу - Анна на самом деле с Джорджем (если имя не путаю) спала!!!
Ни в какие ворота не лезет.
С Ричардом та же история. До него слухи дошли о племяннице сразу после смерти Анны, когда в этих слухах наступил апогей. И Ричард сразу опроверг их и подыскал Лизе жениха. Причем вполне хорошего жениха для бастардки. О каких ночах в палатке вообще может идти речь? Кстати! Я не читала ничего, кроме
"Белой королевы", но, судя по тому, что "Дочь делателя королей" заканчивается смертью Анны, а "Белая принцесса" начинается уже после Босуорта, госпожа Филиппа тоже прямо не осмелилась написать.
Мы ведь и не знаем, была там ночь лУбви или нет, по ее-то романам. Никто мне толком и не написал, невинная белая прЫнцесса досталась Тюдору или...
Но там или иначе, я речь опять веду о любимой теме: когда пишешь об истории, ври, да не завирайся! знай границы дозволенного.
...
Consuelo:
15.11.13 21:45
Margot Valois писал(а):Кристина, большое спасибо за видео!
Не за что!
Виктория В писал(а):Кристина, но это обвинение в адрес Анны Болейн и Ричарда Третьего существовало и до Филиппы Грегори. Наверно, она посчитала, что такой сюжет поднимет объем продажи ее романов.
В общем-то, Вика и Dagmar уже все сказали. Знаю, что обвинения подобные существовали давно. Но, с другой стороны, много ли найдется правителей (и прочих выделяющихся в истории личностей), кто хоть раз не был бы подвергнут грязной клевете? Полагаю, что недоброжелатели найдутся всегда. В случае с Анной Болейн - мерси дражайшему супругу, в чем только не обвинившем неугодную жену, лишь бы от нее избавиться. Ну а Ричард, бедняга, с ног до головы оболган пропагандой Тюдоров. Другое дело, может ли историк (историк с высшим образованием) полагаться только лишь на слухи, причем не самые достоверные и не имеющие под собой доказательств? Лично я думаю, что нет. Но с последней фразой - о подъеме продаж романов - согласна. Народ легко ведется на всякие скандалы.
Виктория В писал(а):Спасибо за сюрприз с видео.
Не за что! Такие красивые видео, что не могла не поделиться.
La comtesse писал(а):Но там или иначе, я речь опять веду о любимой теме: когда пишешь об истории, ври, да не завирайся! знай границы дозволенного.
Золотые слова, друг мой!
Dagmar писал(а):Consuelo, спасибо за новые видео, я их еще не видела.
Всегда пожалуйста!
И еще немного видео))
Ричард и Эовин ("Властелин колец")
Гвиневра ("Король Артур") и Генрих ("Пустая корона")
Джордж и Марджэри ("Игра престолов")
Тамина ("Принц Персии") и Арагорн ("Властелин колец")
Дэйнерис ("Игра престолов") и Трандуил ("Хоббит")
Анна ("Ван Хелсинг") и Риарио ("Демоны да Винчи")
Элизабет Йорк и Джейме ("Игра престолов")
...
