Who better than a novelist who’s also a historian and the latest biographer of Charles I to review Mary & George, the TV drama based on the life of George, Duke of Buckingham, favourite of James VI and I? We asked Mark Turnbull to watch the series.
Many of us ask why the Stuarts are sidelined in film and drama. Their era is packed full of everything a plot could ever need – defining moments of history that need no elaboration.
This month a new drama series, Mary and George, offered a glimpse into the Jacobean court. There is always, of course, understanding that liberties might be taken, but this is extolled as factual.
Yes, it is certainly based on facts, but it must be added that the storyline contains inaccuracies, exaggerations, and highly significant bouts of pure fiction. This the Stuart equivalent of Netflix’s The Crown.
Scenes of Mary and her quarrelling husband, George Villiers, falling down the stairs and resulting in his death, or George, their son, and Mary (both brand new to court) common brawling with rivals in front of the King, are inserted for entertainment. The Earl of Essex, tearfully admitting his impotence to Mary, starts to stretch things.
But wild fabrication is employed in painting both Mary and George as illegitimate, which is then used as a motive for Mary murdering two men. She also begins a relationship with a female prostitute, Sandie Brooks, despite no evidence of any lesbian liaisons.
A particularly ludicrous claim is that the purpose of James’s visit to Scotland in 1617 was to dig up the embalmed heart of his first love, Esme Stewart.
George is, surprisingly, a rather passive character; two-dimensional, plain, and naive. One of his later lines is ‘I am the king, I am England’ but his character on screen seems barely a shadow of the real man – who was shrewd and devious, and obtained practically every significant political office.
The real George knew how to manipulate James and was overconfident, overbearing, and all-powerful. The clothes of Nicholas Galitzine (George) were barely adorned, whereas portraits of the real duke record his penchant for ropes of pearls.
Instead, Mary is by far the dominant character, though much of what makes this so is based on fiction. That said, Julianne Moore acts the part very well.
Crucially for me, with the key exception of King James (Tony Curran), it was hard to feel connected to most of the characters. This was partly down to an extremely dark and overtly violent undertone throughout, which made for few endearing scenes.
The first four episodes focus on the years 1614–1617. Following Queen Anna’s death in 1619, the series accelerates through the next 11 years, so can’t do enough justice to the Madrid venture or James’s decline.
In 1624, we see George single-handedly turn Parliament to war with Spain. In reality, the duke suffered a bout of illness at the time, and it was Prince Charles (later Charles I) who managed Parliament so adeptly. The twist of irony here is that in the series, Prince Charles is portrayed as a snivelling and immature, emotional wreck.
Historical accuracy goes into freefall when George ends the reign of Rex Pacificus (as James liked to be called) in a startling manner — murder. If this blatant falsification is not bad enough, the show powers to a similarly abrupt ending.
Fast forwarding to 1628, George bumps into his assassin at Portsmouth. As if attempting to squeeze in one last sex scene, George ridiculously attempts to seduce John Felton, only to be penetrated by Felton’s cheap dagger – though almost as if it was an afterthought. As a result, this pivotal scene is robbed of gravitas and dramatic effect.
For me, the undoubted star of the show was Tony Curran in his role as King James. As the series progresses, Curran captures the emotional anguish at the king’s core. The actor’s eyes convincingly portray the scarring pain of James’s childhood, which was full of abuse, and the terror it instilled in him thereafter.
James’s raucous behaviour, coupled with deeply emotional moments (such as sorrow over the death of Esme Stewart, an early love) make him a character to whom the viewer can emotionally connect. I came away sensing that Curran had successfully captured an essence of the king and his complexities. Sean Gilder (Sir Thomas Compton) also delivered many blunt (and amusing!) pearls of wisdom.
Overall, I’m pleased I watched the series and was entertained by it, but there is a tinge of disappointment. It had the potential of being an unforgettable epic, spectacularly relaunching the overlooked Stuart age to a modern audience and putting it up there with the Tudors.
Let us hope, at very least, that it raises the potential of the period and allows it a second chance.
Mark Turnbull is the author of Charles I’s Private Life, published on 30 August, 2023.
He writes about the young Charles for Historia in Charles I – the boy who would be King.
You may also enjoy these features by Elizabeth Fremantle, who writes about the Jacobean era:
James I & VI: King or Queen?
The Honey and the Sting: the novel that didn’t want to be written
Five infamous female poisoners
K J Maitland also writes novels set during James’s reign. For some social background, read
People-smuggling in Tudor and Jacobean times
Parting fools from their money in the brothels and gaming houses of the 1600s
Images:
- Publicity shot of Julianne Moore as Mary Villers and Nicholas Galitzine as George: Sky TV (fair use)
- Mary Villiers, Countess of Buckingham, engraving by James Stow, 1814, after a miniature: Wikimedia (public domain)
- George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, by Michiel Jansz van Mierevelt, 1625–6: Art Gallery of South Australia via Wikimedia (public domain)
- Tony Curran as King James VI and I: Sky TV (fair use)
