Once again, I hate myself a little for being so easily manipulated. I want to be Grizzly Adams living off the grid. I want to be the revolutionary. I want to vote third-party. But then I look around me and realize I'm such a tool of capitalist hegemony. My corporate masters clearly string me along, from True Blood to Dexter and, now, to The Tudors, dangling beautiful man-flesh in front of me and sucking money out of my wallet which is now attached permanently to my cable bill.
Anyway... another season (surely the last?) of Jonathan Rhys Meyers smooth shirtlessness starts tonight, and it's already getting my blood pumping. For an Irishman with no resemblance at all to Henry VIII, he has certainly sucked me in completely to his performance. I'm fascinated to see how he transforms the horrific, bloated, flesh-rotting-on-the-bone historical figure of Henry VIII into a hot and sexy fashion model. Did I mention his frequent shirtlessness?
The ridiculously handsome Henry Cavill is also worth another look, though I'm combing my memory of my English History class in college, feeling a growing certainty that Henry's character has a bad end. Well, pretty much everyone in Henry VIII's life met a bad end, didn't they? I'm confident none of them were quite so delicious to behold as young Henry (Cavill).
For my money (because that's all I count for in the capitalist hegemony), I was crushed that Kristen Holden-Reid (a guy, a very, very hot guy) was killed off before the end of season 1. It was more Kristen's gorgeousness in A Touch of Pink that I was rooting for than anything else. Writing a beautiful gay character in King Henry VIII's court (having a torrid and quite hot, though self-hating, man-on-man love affair), was awesome revisionist history. I like to spend my lifeblood in the capitalist hegemony (my money) on seeing more of Kristen Holden-Reid.
Because real life fiction (?) is never enough to entirely satisfy me, I've written an evolving story line in my celebrity wrestling fiction for Henry and Jonathan. An Irishman picked to play Henry VIII over his co-star who's an Englishman named Henry!? There had to be off-camera drama. So in my imagination, I see some really bitter competition between those boys to determine who really is king, with one hunk being conquered and transformed into an obedient and loyal subject. Frankly, the real Henry VIII produced much more outrageous melodrama than any of us today, but at least my melodrama is rife with homoerotic combat and body worship.