I don’t usually watch shows “live.” Generally, I wait until the hype is gone and I watch them in their entirety–episode after episode, hacking away mercilessly at the seasons. You see, when I find a show that I particularly love or am fascinated by I become a little addicted. This summer it was Lost and The Tudors. As I do when I read, I become one with some of the scenes or personally attached to a character or two or feel deeply for a character or situation–essentially, I get sucked in. Even those characters you love to hate I found myself feeling sorry for or seeing their point of view in a different way. Sucked in. Of course there are those episodes that don’t resonate or complete annoy, but those are forgotten when all is said and done.
So, aside from the license with history and the lack of physical aging on the part of some of the characters (Henry Tudor, Charles Cavill–for most of the series)–I felt like I aged along with the rapid-fire display of history. I aged with the Tudors. At least I didn’t lose my head, ha, ha (sorry, couldn’t help myself). The last 2 episodes really brought me down–not only did they bring me down, I felt old and undesirable afterwards. I also felt hollow when the series was over. Blech.
I was so surprised I fell for it in the end–that I felt my mortality and the transitory nature of life so acutely. It’s not as if I’m immune to these feelings but such an opulent cinematic display inducing this? Come on! So, I wandered around in this state of tv-induced lameness for a few weeks and then I guess I snapped out of it. Too abrupt? That’s kind of how the Tudors ended and I still managed to get sucked in!
As a side note–I like to stand like King Henry when I “command” my household, ha, ha, ha!