How seriously is one supposed to be able to take a 16th C. England in which none of the women, including the very proper, very Catholic Queen Catherine, owns a single shift? Or a hood, for that matter? Many of them cannot, so it seems, even afford sleeves. As a result, we are treated to the spectacle of Tudor women routinely traipsing around the countryside, in public, with their hair, their shoulders, and even their entire arms bare for anyone to see.
This is not to excuse the men, who, in Tudor times, had an unquenchable penchant for vinyl doublets, tacky plastic jewels, and unbearably bad hats. Waugh! Honestly, I don't see how anyone is supposed to pay the least bit of attention to the supposed dramatic content with Anne Boleyn swanning about with her razor cut, sausage curled, peekaboo-parted, totally anachronistic haircut bouncing all over, and Cardinal Wolsey progressing from one spavined, polyester square cap to a worse one with every new scene. And what on Earth is Catherine of Aragon doing with a brass partrige stuck on her head? Yes, I fully recognize that Tudor headgear was eccentric- and comical-looking to the modern eye, but it doesn't follow that just any eccentric-and-comical-looking headgear will suffice to signal that These People Are Tudors, You Know.
Moreover, waving naked titties around isn't actually a substitute for story-telling. Even if you like naked titties, and indeed, who doesn't?
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