BACK, BITCHES: Borgias Season 2, Episode 1: The Borgia Bull

Old rivalries. New wigs.

Jeremy Irons, sexily: Previously, on The Borgias.

HABEMUS PAPA!

SIMONY!

EVIDENCE!

LECHERY!

FAKE CHASTITY!

NEW WHORES!

ASSASSINS!

VULTURES!

FLYING CARDINALS!

ALFONSO!

CAREER DISAPPOINTMENT!

MARITAL RAPE!

SILLY PORTENTOUS NIGHTMARES!

GROOM BABIES!

THE FRENCH WAY!

KABOOM!

THE "ART" OF WAR!

TORSOS!

THE CROWN OF NAPLES!

PLAGUE!

IL BAMBINO!

And just as we're starting to catch our breath, we're hit with:

NEW OPENING CREDITS!

Sexy finger stroke. Sexy horse riding. Sexy back. Fraternal swordplay. Farnese cleavage. Torch. Spiky armies. There's that lamb again. Hand-held cannons?

Shifty altar boy pours angel dust into the communion wine. His victim: Giuliano Della Rovere, slumming it in kicky forest green robes. Altar boy kicks the vial out of sight - there's a good amount of excess dust on the floor, so we already know he's botched it. We the viewers will become seasoned poison engineers by the time this show has run its course. Dellaro has been reduced to the priest of a bumpkin congregation, but he assures us he's totally fine with it. For now. We see our first Communion mass, all in Latin - in all seriousness, I've felt the show has been lacking in liturgical Latin. And I'm so glad it's Colm Feore giving it to us, because his Latin is superb. Ring-a-ling, goes the little Communion bell. This little church is a lot prettier than the current Vatican. Darling Dellaro knocks back the Communion wine in one gulp - first of all, way to savour the blood of our Lord, you snob, and second, what, does no one else get to vamp it up today? Selfish. Dellaro is looking a bit stumbly as he administers the bread. "Is it the heat, Father?" says the treacherous little altar boy. No, it's that half-litre of wine he just inhaled. Or - wait, maybe it's something else entirely. And then - Surprise! Kneeling there under his hiding hood is my boyfriend Cesare Borgia, whose wig, can I just say, is beserk this season? His bangs are bursting out from under the hood. It's adorable, but not sexy. 

Sickroom. Bewildered Hungarian extras in nun habits are mopping down Dellaro's brow. Cesare kicks them out. One Hungarian extra, and only one, knows one word in English, and only one: "Cardinal!" Which she whimpers often and pronounces incorrectly. Dellaro's tongue is lavender-coloured, swollen, and popping out from behind his teeth. Cesare throatily promises that he won't die, he'll just be laid up with a silly tongue and no ability to speak for a few days. Apparently Dellaro thought he was in hiding. That's real smart - I mean, to track him down, his enemies would have to go to the trouble of asking around if there are any cardinals named Giuliano Della Rovere giving mass in the area. I mean, there are only so many mad geniuses in this world with the mental sharpitude to unwind such a cunning plan - too bad Cesare, or perhaps Michelotto, is one such genius. Cesare exposits that King Charles ("Chuzzie" to his "friends") is still in Naples, and is suffering from the "Neapolitan plague" - which seems pretty intuitive, but I guess lingering around a palace full of stinky grey corpses is just all part of DE FRAINCH WAY. Cesare implores Dellaro to work with the Borgias, not against them. "Thththththt," says Della Rovere.

Michelotto has grown a beard like you wouldn't believe; he looks almost human now. Almost. He still looks like a complete alien, just one making an effort to blend in. He and the treacherous altar boy chat while perching on the well wall. The altar boy is a bit cocky for my taste, asking for payment for a job shittily done. Michelotto agrees with me, and now Umbria's down an altar boy (and a well, too, I guess, for I don't see Michelotto fishing out the body). However, I like that Michelotto seems to have cultivated the skill of seeming like he doesn't have Aspergers. Cesare comes striding out in his cute black-and-purple cloak and the buddies go galloping off, the altar boy floating all Samara Morgan in the well, poisoning the poor innocent Hungarian extras' drinking water.

Rome! Rodrigo sponges down a nubile brunette who is quite clearly NOT Giulia Farnese. Oh, Rodrigo, you old goat. To his credit, Rodrigo does seem pretty fucking terrified of the wrath. And boo, she's here, suddenly! Rodrigo starts throwing gold at her to get her to leave, but wet-tits isn't budging. Shit's getting tense. However, by the time Giulia shows up, Rodrigo is deeply immersed (pun intended) in his role as Decrepit Old Man In Tepid Bathwater, raging about said tepidity. Oh, Rodrigo, you terrible actor you. Giulia surprises him with a warm douse as wet-tits is hustled out by a footman, totally starkers, clutching her clothes to her naughty bits.

As Lucrezia's little groombaby wails in the background, Rodrigo throws on his Santa capelet and Giulia pulls a red stocking out from under a pillow. She's all WHAT, WHORE? but frankly the only people who for sure wear red stockings are Cardinals, so... Ascanio Sforza, you goat!

There's Lucrezia, lounging like the Blonde Madonna. Rodrigo snuggles up next to her and little bebonnetted Groombaby, grumbling about how she should get a wetnurse to preserve her boobies. Lucrezia's like "I get your game. I'm still advantageously marriageable. Also, if I asked you politely to stop talking about my boobies, would you?" But apparently, just for this one five minute window, there are no serious problems that can be fixed by offspring-pimping, so Rodrigo's suggestion of a wetnurse is totally, erm, selfless. Rodrigo scoops up little Groombaby, cooing and bouncing. I melt. It's the cutest. If/when I have little groombabies of my own, I definitely want one of their grandparents to be Jeremy Irons just so they can get melodically growled at every so often. But alas, Groombaby is not to remain politically innocent for long, for a French ambassador is here! "Oh God, isn't he dead yet?" "He's not even sick," says a footman. Rodrigo takes little Groombaby right into the chambers, humming and cooing and bouncing all the way down the aisle. It's hilarious because it takes about half an hour. "Pianissimo!" he hisses at the noisy Ambassador, who confusedly drops to a whisper while theorizing that sweet little Alfonso started the whole plague business before he fled. Rodrigo gently reminds him that Naples, much like Afghanistan, has been historically unconquerable, planting big Nonno kisses all over Groombaby's head and hands the whole time. When Groombaby starts mewling in earnest, Rodrigo blames the ambassador and stomps off to find Lucrezia, cooing "It's just a nasty Ambassador" as he leaves.

Later, in Rodrigo's Chamber of Candle Smoke and Claustrophobia, in walk newly crazy-haired Juan and Cesare. Juan gives Cesare shit for not killing Dellaro (for what, the tenth time now?) Cesare doesn't remind him about the Djem botch job, although he should. Rodrigo swears vengeance on the Papal states, especially the Sforzas - "By whom? This headless cock?" says Cesare, prompting a fraternal scuffle that Rodrigo has to break up with a few round cuffs to the head. I find corporal punishment on adult children hilarious, although I know that probably makes me a bad person. Rodrigo's all excited about getting Rome up to Antiquity standards and makes his sons actually touch each other. "Fam-i-leh," says Rodrigo. "Fam-i-leh," says Juan. "Fam'lee," says François Arnaud, unapologetic Canadian.

Juan has two swords. Get them away from him! WHAT is with the wigs. Apparently the skinny blades are all new. Juan passes one to Cesare and gets all shitty about how clerics pray, they don't fight... still? Really, Juan? Cesare reminds Juan that Rodrigo has forbidden fighting... not that he doesn't think they should fight, of course, and within seconds  they're properly duelling, knocking shit over and everything. All the soldiers come streaming in through the chorus, cheering them on.

Meanwhile, in the idyllic woods, Rodrigo narrowly misses a doe. "Can you not keep your horse still?" he hisses at Giulia. Lovers got pissed at each other for all sorts of hilarious reasons back in the past. The doe trots into a cave of some sort; they pursue.

All the soldiers are cheering for Juan, which is weird, because hasn't everyone realized what a rube he is? Cesare disarms him and is like this close to striking him down, but Michelotto steps in and reminds them that Fratricide is a big word - "What does it mean?" "Something to do with killing," Juan sniffs, in a way that seems to suggest he has no idea what it means, which I don't doubt. Michelotto manages to diffuse the fight while still doing his "I am but a piece of shit" thing, which is impressive.

Rodrigo's still tracking the doe, not realizing that he's literally walking through a mystical ancient super-secret achingly beautiful as-yet hidden palace of some sort, all overhung with picturesque dollar store vines and cut through with lovely trickling streams. Dappled sunlight on their faces. Giulia kindly points out that forget the fucking doe, they've just stumbled upon a find that would have had a modern archaeologist violently and repeatedly shitting his pants for years. Frescoes of naked ladies, some of them entwined with naked men, are brilliantly preserved. Of course, the lewdness is the first thing they notice and comment on. Prudes. And Giulia actually has the gall to use one of the most significant archaeological finds of the time to suss out whether Rodrigo's been getting his kicks elsewhere. I mean, my god, this woman. She was cool last season! Rodrigo decides to preserve the frescoes... but I weep to think of what the fifteenth-century idea of "preservation" was.

Cesare, still looking like an absolute Beegee, asks to hold the baby, but Mama Lucrezia points out that he's sleeping and she will go Delilah on his stupid hair if he  changes that. (Not that she speaks those words, but it's strongly implied.) Groombaby, by the way, is at prime baby age where they look like little chubby dumplings of snuggliness, that age at which I think all parents secretly wish their baby would freeze - easily amused, no mobility. Cesare contents himself with holding her and asks for more details about his father. Lucrezia waxes poetic about his hot face. Cesare asks if he should be jealous and they banter about "impossible loves"... I mean, it's not even a secret anymore, is it? Lucrezia advises him to love himself before he can love anyone else, but I mean easier said than done, cookie.

CHUZZIE! Some beardy doctor is applying some hilarious old-timey medical tricks involving mason jars and shorn tummies while reminding him that Naples has always been Plague City. Chuzzie chooses to blame that "inbred prince". Doctor reminisces about his days of tending to Ferrante's torture victims and prepping the bodies for the taxidermist. Chuzzie, his accent totally on the fritz, strongly advises him to NOT FAHAIL US, or he will be next, or something.

Rodrigo instructs a team of artsy types to remove all the frescoes from the Chamber of Secrets "intact". Heh. Preservation my ass. Dude, clear out the vines, set up a gift shop, erect a gelato stand outside, charge admission, beef up them coffers a bit! Simple, so simple. Anyway, this whole discovery was perfectly timed, what with Rodrigo's whole new Classical Rome obsession. Heh. Someone's been watching a too-hastily-cancelled HBO series. 

Later, at the Vatican, Giulia pulls on that red stocking she found, which looks silly next to the white stocking on her other leg. Meanwhile, Rodrigo strokes a bronze bull very suggestively. "Could be the Borgia bull," he says to Giulia. He drops trivia about how Isis is a predecessor of the Virgin Mary character/icon/dogma. Giulia says "Are we to worship Isis then?" which I think is her mocking his newfound Ancient Mythology obsession that kids usually shake around age 14. Then Rodrigo gets all glum about how boring Catholicism can be, how it lacks "joy", and I swear for a moment I think he's about to go, "We must start a Gospel choir!"

Smash cut to: sassy black cardinal (played by Whoopi Goldberg) who agrees to whip the Castrati into shape only if he promises not to interfere with her zany teaching methods that will surely revolutionize the Vatican...

Actually, he just wants to throw a big party commemorating his political tapdance with Chuzzie.

In the corner, a Ganymede-looking youth restores one of the frescoes (which has a big crack down the middle, good job on the preservation front). Giulia perches against a pedestal and hikes up her skirt to show off her incriminating leggings, but Rodrigo doesn't even notice.

Later, Rodrigo steals from the Bed of Lechery and stumbles across Ganymede, sketching away by candlelight. "Boo," he says. "YUH HEWLINESS!" Ganymede cries, scrambling all over the place. Ganymede reveals that he only gets to practice at night because he's still bitch boy to his master. Rodrigo gets all handsy and a bit violent, and yet Ganymede cracks a smile. Then things get REAL Greek up in here while he grabs Ganymede's chin, jaw, hissing "What's that smile" and then grabbing at the panty area, which reveals that Ganymede is really Rosalind, complete with clouds of beautiful golden hair under her little wig - why not just lop all the hair off if she's so committed to this breeches thing? Her name is Vittoria, but she goes by Vittorio (Victor/Victoria - that can't possibly be a coincidence?) and then Rodrigo drags Vittoria off to do something silly while Giulia watches from a doorway.

Oh, I'm at a crossroads, and it's bugging me, and it's a really silly internal conflict but I just can't be decisive... I need to pick a nickname for Vittoria, and Victor/Victoria is really intuitive, but I'd REALLY rather prefer to call her Ganymede/Rosalind, and this is SUCH A FIRST-WORLD PROBLEM but I just can't... grr. Victor/Victoria wins for now, but KNOW that in my heart she is still Ganymede/Rosalind to me.

Staff meeting! Rodrigo bothers everyone with his Classical Rome obsession some more - today he's waxing poetic about reviving Ludi Taurii, the festival of bulls, coincidentally the same day as St. Bernard of Vermicelli's (patron saint of shitty faux-Chinese dishes). To include horse racing, dancing, drinking, a Roman-themed masquerade, and a wooden bull statue that will "light up", which I think means Rodrigo is planning on burning the symbol of his own house in effigy. Fuck, Rodrigo, that's not a good idea at all. Everyone's like "WHAT ABOUT THE MONEY, FOOL?" And Rodrigo's like, "It's not about the money, money, money, We just wanna make the wooooorld dance..."

Giulia decides to bother Victor/Victoria a bit while she's sketching, calling her bull a total wuss. "It looks like a bull, it stands like a bull, but it lacks something of the male vigour... like you, perhaps." Vittoria does this thing when she's about to get found out that makes it look like she's actively being sexually assaulted. Mind you, whenever she makes that face, she's always about three minutes away from being actually sexually assaulted. Case in point, Giulia unbuttons her shirt and goes tittyfishing, but the effect is kind of lost because Vittoria's boobs are absolutely negligable. If someone were watching this scene with the sound off and hadn't seen the rest of the episode, it wouldn't even look porny.

Chuzzie in his silly wheelchair calls a staff meeting in Ferrante's dining room, pointing out that it's a jokes parody of the Last Supper, with the Judas seat empty. He's saving it, for Alfonso, he says, before letting out this shrieking laugh that's pretty silly.

Vatican Square - Vittoria directs a bunch of workers in lashing the wicker horns onto the bull's wicker head while a male singer wails in the background, totally ripped off from the Troy soundtrack, I'll warrant. Speaking of movies, here come Juan and Cesare kicking up dust, small rodents, and people as they charge around the square on their horses. It's so Prince of Egypt, complete with the silly taunts and confused labourors. I STILL don't understand their wigs. Michelotto promises Cesare that he's got the race in the bag, if Juan doesn't cheat. So I guess he's losing then, because Juan's the worst.

Smash cut to: Race day! I assume several people are getting trampled off screen, because it's just not a good idea to race in quarters as tight as those, especially if you're going to let people fling rose petals in your face. Juan and Cesare and neck-and-neck.

Meanwhile, in the Neapolitan countryside, these dogs that are tragically on steroids get slapped in the face with Alfonso's old cloak and then ordered to hunt him down. Alfonso, all in rags, is like ten feet away from them, scampering between boulders and trees. I had to double-check that it was in fact Alfonso, because it's just ridiculous to me that the scouts wouldn't see a rag-clad peasant-looking nasally little squirt trying to hide while clearly never having played hide-and-seek once in his life. It's pretty sad. But on the bright side, Alfonso! Yay!

More horseys! and Juan throws and handful of spiky little things that look like jacks on the sand under Cesare's horse's hooves. Cesare gets bucked off. Juan wins. Fuck that yo.

Alfonso's still trying to get away... and apparently the soldiers are still retarded, because, even though he's running in full view, they only spot him when he stops and shrieks "I CLAIM THE RIGHT OF FEUDAL PRIVILEGE!" Blimey, this time away from court has only made him shriller, MORE nasally! And I couldn't be happier about it!!

Masquerade! We get to do that tiresome Halloween thing where everyone asks what everone else is supposed to be. Rodrigo is Janus, with the two faces; Giulia is Minerva, all owly. (Sidenote: the online registration system at my school is called Minerva, which has given me a poor attitude towards the Goddess that I don't think she deserves.) Lucrezia is Echo, still all wistful about Groomboy Narcissus - which is fair, I think, since if Paolo is still alive, he's probably nursing a few deformities right now on her behalf. Cesare looks unfairly amazing in his red and gold toga and gold laurel wreath. Oh, I love it when my favourite shows do crossover episodes. "Did he make you smile?" he asks Lucrezia. "Can you?" she says. "I can try," says Cesare, which sounds gross, but then he pulls out a handful of tacks and tosses them right under Juan's feet. Juan hops around in agony as Lucrezia laughs her tits off. You see, I feel bad about loving that part, since Juan was so special to me last season, but quite honestly I'm with Lucrezia here - that shit was hilarious.

Alfonso is totally channeling Cartman this episode, can I just say. UNHAND MEH, IT HURTS, he whines, shaking these awesome handcuffs in Chuzzie's face and demading better treatment. He's looking much better with a bit of a tan, and that slappable bowlcut of his has grown out into lovely fluffy curls, making him the one actor against whom the wig department clearly holds no grudge. Oh, the poor thing needs a hug so badly...

Chuzzie looks like death warmed over, sitting in front of his feathery pheasant. Pheasant, the official first meal of starving disgraced teen nobility everywhere. He pushes a plate towards Alfonso, who starts chowing down even while politely inquiring about Chuzzie's health. OH GOODY, he squeaks when Charles assures him he will recover. Bit cocky, eh, but that's why we love him.

Juan is dressed as Mars, because of course he is. No warfare tonight, Rodrigo reminds him. Rodrigo pronounces "Janus" as "Jay-nus", which makes it sound like a dirty word for some reason and also makes no phonetic sense. I have a feeling there's a rule against correcting Jeremy Irons' pronunciation, like a clause in his contract or something. The Borgia bros set the bull aflame, which I still maintain is a HORRIBLE IDEA. I have a feeling that someday someone's going to be like "Eh yo Papa, I heard you burned your family crest in effigy! Ballsy move, dude!" And Rodrigo's going to be like "You silly peasant, I did not burn it in effigy, I made it into a beautiful statue of light!" And that person will be like "Oh man, I'm sorry, it's just that lots of religious men of this time period burn things and it's NEVER positive, I mean take Savonarola burning all those lipsticks and girdle belts, and take the Spaniard burning all those women, I just assumed..." And Rodrigo will be like "To assume makes an Ass of You and We" but secretly he'll be like ohhhhhh shit, I totally did burn my family crest in effigy. That can't be good.

Alfonso assures Chuzzie that, because of the general libido of the Neapolitan population, the area will be back in tip-top shape in no time. Chuzzie asks if Alfonso would take him on a tour, which Alfonso's cool with... then he specifies a tour of the dungeons, and all the instruments of torture, the engineering of which must me explained by someone who knows exactly the kind of havoc they can wreak. And Alfonso's like, gulp.

LET IT BURN! The peasants dance around the flaming bovine, giving us a nice little sneak peak of what Dellaro's ideal afterparty would look like. At the boring party, Giulia and Vanossa have ended up dance buddies - oooOOOHHH shit. But they seem to be cool! Man, Vanossa just does not look one little bit like herself. I didn't even recognize her. Seems Joanne Whaley's been on that Anorexia diet that's so hot with all the cool kids. Vanossa is playing Juno tonight. It would be a much funner scene if they'd come dressed as the same goddess, but I guess there's a registry somewhere. Or maybe everyone's personal storyline lines up perfectly with one goddess, no more no less, and there's no overlap. Throwing aside all "Other Woman" conventions, Giulia confides in Vanossa Rodrigo's lack of interest in either Italy or France (geddit?) and for some reason, Vanossa doesn't do a happy dance complete with a lot of pelvic thrusts and elaborate fuck-you-finger choreography. Instead, she's pretty cool and advises Giulia not to throw an epic tantrum. I guess that's good advice if you want to hold on to your man, BUT AT WHAT COST.

Oh, my favourite part! Now, I'm a bit of a torture junkie, I've been to those silly torture museums, and I've heard that a lot of it is a myth, but it's still pretty sweet seeing all my buddies represented onscreen. Chuzzie gets wheeled through the dungeons while that blond general drags Alfonso by the hair, every so often stopping and inquiring politely as to the name and function of each device. Alfonso's no dummy; he's a gibbering weeping wailing mess. Chuzzie: "And this INGENIOUS construct, my Prince? Has it a name?" "It's called... blub blub blub... Judas' Cradle." Since he doesn't explain the function, I'll divulge: it's basically a spike above which one is suspended and onto which one is lowered. The way it's designed, you are allowed to pick whether you get poked in the bumhole or the taint, or the vajayhole for the lady torture victims, depending on how you tilt your pelvis between lowerings. And the longer it endures, the funner it gets, if you're a total masochist.

Fun party: The bull burns, the male vocalist wails, the drums go, the pretty ladies spin with tambourines. Boring party: Giulia is now dancing with Victor/Victoria, who is dressed as Vulcan, God of the Artisans. Yawn, too obvious. Giulia guides her away from the boring party.

"And this?" "It - gibber gibber - it - blub blub - it's called the Pear of Anguish." "And its use?" "It c-can b-be ins-serted into m-m-mouth..." General Blond slaps him to keep him going. "Or into the - glub blub - re-re-rectu-tum, sniff, gibber." "The rear, the back passage," cracks Chuzzie.

Fun party: PORCHETTA SANDWICHES!

Vatican, away from the Boring Party, Giulia rips off Victor/Victoria's silly wig. "You are now Aphrodite," she coos. "Lover of Hermes," says V. Her hair is like yellow silk, like a Pantene commercial, bouncing and shining and turning me the fuck on. Or maybe that's just the girl-on-girl action that spontaneously erupts. Mmmm. Which kiss is that, Giulia Farnese? Which kiss? I'm only asking because YOU NEVER DESCRIBED ALL THE KISSES AND NOW I'M CURIOUS. "Mother of Hermaphrodite," she adds, as Rodrigo appears in the doorway, mouth open, penis doing a happy dance.

Back in Naples, Chuzzie is wheeled back into the main hall to be serenaded by lutes and sweet little harmonizing ladies, punctuated by Alfonso's wails of rectal anguish shaking the rafters.

Credits.

And Heyyyyyyy, the next episode is called Paolo! NARCISSUS LIVES!!!