The Borgias Ep 1, The Poisoned Chalice - Recap

My suckling pig with rosemary ate my homework.

Title sequence. Sexy and bloody Renaissance paintings and frescoes intercut with sexy and bloody snippets from what I'm sure are only the first two or three episodes, all strung together in a melting-ink oil-and-water suggestion-of-blood sort of thing, while a bunch of Gregorians chant some dies iraes. If the Rome and True Blood title sequences had a baby and abandoned it in a dumpster, and if the baby was then found and raised by an Italian Philippa Gregory, this would be it.

Contextual title cards - what is interesting is that they are written in past tense, implying that everything we're watching has absolutely happened and there's nothing we can do about it. Rome 1492. The center of the Christian world. (Still, yes, but the Protestants won't admit it.) The seat of the papacy. (Still, obvs.) The Pope had the power to crown and un-crown kings. To change the course of empires. (Not anymore, which I guess is a good thing.) The Church was mired in corruption. (Still, but that's half the point of the Church, nay?) Pope Innocent VIII was dying (not anymore because he's dead), And the Papal throne was the prize desired by all. (Only slightly truer then than it is today.)

Papal bedroom, where a priest delivers the aforementioned Innocent a communion wafer. Can I just say, re-naming yourself Innocent is like trying to disguise a herpsore as a beauty mark - everyone knows what you've been up to. Jeremy Irons, here playing Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia, peeks his Keith Richards-esque face into the frame. "You are afraid to enter," croaks Innocent, "but you must. I am about to meet my maker." Rodrigo steps lively, followed by Cardinal Shortwhitebeard, Cardinal Angryeyes (who seems to be entering from the other side), Cardinal Blurryfacedextra, and others, as Innocent admits he is very afraid. Then he helpfully greets Cardinals Sforza (the aforementioned Angryeyes), Orsini (Shortwhitebeard), Borgia (got it, thanks), and Della Rovere (Colm Feore! I saw him play Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady once!). Innocent predicts the four in-focus actors will "fight like dogs", which I take to mean that they are the preferiti (can you believe I remembered that? I read Angels and Demons like six years ago!). Della Rovere crosses himself a propos of nothing, already setting himself up to be that fucking guy. "It was pure once," Innocent gasps, talking of the Papal throne. "We have all sullied it with our greed. Lechery." Our greed for titties. The present company looks a bit tactfully expressionless. "Which of you will WASH IT CLEEEAAANN?" Everyone's like PICK ME. Rodrigo pipes up, "It shall be cleansed, Your Holiness, with the tears we shed for you." Excellent, Mr. Borgia, ten points for Gryffindor. Della Rovere and Orsini have the visceral, panicky look of men who know they just lost a chance for self-promotion. (Or are about to turn into werewolves.) Orsini says something rude at Rodrigo's shoulder about him being a dirty Spic and a white Moore, or something, but Rodrigo tactfully ignores him and repeats, "As Vice Chancellor, I swear before the Living God." He kneels by Innocent's bedside, and all of a sudden everyone's jumping on the bandwagon, with their "And so do I's" and "Rest Assured's" and crowding the sickbed with their voluminous red robes, and Della Rovere's just standing there trying to decide between looking like a sycophant and looking like a surly rebel. So he opts for a third option: the one-up. "The glory of the Holy Mother Church will be restored, in my lifetime," he swears, kissing Innocent's hand and casting a wholly indiscreet glare at Rodrigo. As the camera pans away to show a lovely, detailed set, Innocent blesses the assembled group, and then one cardinal crosses himself, and then everyone else remembers that that's what they're supposed to do and they cross themselves as well, just like Christmas mass. Keep reading. There will be sex.

Sex foley. A delicate blonde angel peeps through a high window onto some very lovely fucking. But not that lovely, because we soon see the man re-dressing himself in an old-lady nighty and pointing the lady to a door that leads to the street. "A back passage?" she teases/mopes. Then, a-ha!, "You're a cleric!" "Huh, didn't you notice?" he grumbles as he shrugs into a long black robe. "There was nothing ecclesiastic about you last night." Aside from the robe, then? She's awfully dumb. "By night I am who I want to be. By day, I am thus." So he's a grumpy cleric. The blonde sweetie hops down from the window. Grumpy hears her, whispers "Lucrezia", and books it, with one button done up on the robe.

"SISTAHHH," he roars, and Lucrezia flees across the very pretty courtyard, laughing and hollering and teasing him about the "fine lady" he picked up. "There's a punishment for spying," he threatens, but he's smiling, and she goes "what's that," and he says "I think you know," and I know just enough about their historical counterparts to be seriously skeeved by that exchange. So he literally roars a few times, and tackles her, and they stroke each other's faces way too much as she teasingly asks if she can be at his wedding, and then he sullenly reminds her (and us, again) that it's not really worth joking about. She maybes that her father (Rodrigo, obviously) could become Pope and Cesare (for his name is Cesare, and not "Che-ZAAA-ray", as I'd thought, but "CHE-za-ray") can "be who he wants to be", but Cesare reasons that if Papa RoBo does become Papa Popo he won't exactly let his son and secret weapon off the hook. Lucrezia asks either stupidly or intelligently whether a Pope can have children, and Cesare exposits that Innocent probably has twelve (SOMEONE was calling the kettle lecherous), and Lucrezia exposits that he is dying (probably already dead, but since no-one has Tweeted it yet she has no idea). She asks (again, either stupidly or intelligently) whether Rodrigo will succeed him. Cesare assumes she's asking stupidly, so he titters and reminds her (and us) that the Pope will be elected by the College of Cardinals and that only God can predict the outcome. But of course he's lying. If Cesare will have no wedding, Lucrezia decides the next best thing is to wear some awesome dress and lots of bling to her father's coronation instead. Cesare basically promises her that much.

St. Peters. there's an assembled crowd outside the door. Cesare runs in and asks a guard what they've heard - "The Pope breathes his last" - before crossing himself and sprinting toward... somewhere. The sickroom? The ecclesiastic bathroom? Who knows?

The Pope is clad in his fancy fare, including these white leather gloves and a cocktail ring which the Cardinals are kissing one by one. Already dead, then.

Rodrigo hustles Cesare down a hallway, already scheming. First is to get Cesare somewhere from where he can work. Apparently there are more than one families looking to control the throne. Yawn. That barely counts as exposition. "And if, after the first vote, if the smoke is black..." "As you said, Father," snaps Cesare. "I know what to do." Cesare starts off down the hallway and it looks for a minute like we're going to be shown the scheme rather than told, which would be new and amazing, but then Rodrigo hustles him into a nook and hisses, "I have waited a lifetime for this role. We will keep me on screen as long as I wish."

Song.

Rodrigo: BE PREPARED!

Cesare: Be prepared? Yeah, we’ll be prepared!

Lucrezia: For what?

Rodrigo: For the death of the Pope!

Martin Luther: Great idea! Who needs a Pope?

King Henry VIII: No Pope! No Pope! La la la la la la!

Rodrigo: IDIOTS! There will be a Pope! I will be Pope! Stick with me, and I’ll never feel sad or emasculated again!

Fine, writers, have it your way. Here's how it goes: If they fail on the first vote, Rodrigo will send word to Cesare on the wings of a dove, names of the cardinals that need persuading, properties, benefices, and if need be, gold. God will forgive scheming, says Rodrigo with a dismissive wave, but "I will not forgive failure." Which is hypocritical, and Jesus has a few things to say about that, but whatever. "We will not fail you, Father," Cesare almost whines. Rodrigo nods, satisfied in knowing that he has made life so annoying for his child that he is willing to go to really terrible lengths to get his father what he wants just for a few goddamn moments of reprieve. Rodrigo grabs Cesare's face and plants a wet one on both cheeks. Cesare storms off.

Meanwhile, back at the Spanish Steps (maybe), a Steve Perry look-alike – Juan Borgia, let’s all agree – gets shoved around by a goateed bully and told to "Go back to Spain, Borgia, you've had your day in Rome." Steve Perry sniffs that he was born in Rome, and Goatee hollers, "If a pig is born in a stable, does that make him a horse!?" Swords are shown. Goatee laughs at Steve and starts to stride off. "Rome is for Romans now," he Romans, and Steve asks what if a Spanish Pope is elected, and Goatee snorts that if so, his mother's the Virgin Mary, and Steve oh-snaps, "Was the Virgin a Roman whore?" Goatee roars and draws, and some excellent choreography erupts - although, come on, G, you were setting yourself up with that lame Virgin Mary crack. Steve seems to be dealing with two combatants after a point. Then Cesare, freshly surly from his latest heaping-on of pressure, happens upon his brother losing, swirls his way into the middle in all his purple glory, and handily disarms Goatee.

"My brother speaks before he thinks," he truths. "He asks your pardon." Embarrassing for Steve; also, it would seem that Cesare has a great deal of fight in him himself. Strange for a priest, no? Do you think it's possible that he doesn't want to be a priest? Cesare hands Steve his sword and mutters, "I should have let them do it." Steve, who looks entirely not embarrassed enough, joking reminds Cesare that he's his younger brother. Cesare once again swarms off, purple cloak fluttering, Steve jogging after him with his shirttail all bunched up.

Back at Casa di Borgiakids, Lucrezia, Little Borgia, and a lovely brunette lady are playing cards with this almost comically oversized Tarot set. Cesare swirls in (I'm trying not to overuse "swirl" but it's very apt) asking if they've all "heard", and they have, of course, even Gioffre (aka Little Borgia) has heard, and he's all "Indeed I have, I am tiny. Ding dong the Pope is dead!" "Do you know what that means?" asks Cesare. Little B shakes his head and his adorable mop swings. "I know there'll be an election," deadpans the lady, who we're all just going to accept is their mother (I thought she looked entirely too young and was about to blame the Hollywood syndrome but I checked and the actress is twenty years older than Francois Arnaud so that's all right). "And the city will be bedlam until it's over," snarks a just-arrived Steve Perry, thus saving the producers millions in showy crowd scenes (or not). Also it's funny that Cesare apparently remained resolutely several lengths in front of Steve all the way home. Little B asks if Rodrigo could actually win. Steve asks Mama if they're "allowed to dream", which can be interpreted in a thousand ways. She sighs that the love and care they've enjoyed from their father thus far would probably be over were he elected. I don't think that's what Steve was asking. "As Pope he can do what he wants," he insists, debuting those wretched bangs of his. "Are you sure?" says Mama, sizing up her cards, GEDDIT? Cesare proposes they don't interfere in the election and thus won't have to find out, but Mama points out that they can't do anything but let it run it's course; it's in the hands of God. 'Fraid not, says Cesare, it's in the hands of the Cardinals. Mother doesn't answer because she's not as dumb as Cesare is implying she is. Cesare helps Little B with his hand because he's good at strategy. I mean cards. He's good at cards.

Vatican. Della Rovere, waiting on a bench, acknowledges Rodrigo as he passes. Rodrigo pretends he thinks Della Rovere is just being friendly and continues. Della Rovere pipes up, "Whoever wins this contest--" "Election," Rodrigo reminds him, raising an annoyingly patronizing finger. Della Rovere doesn't bother dignifying such an obvious front with a response, so he goes right into his planned speech about how Rodrigo would certainly be an excellent choice for Pope, given his "organizational genius", but as a man he is so aggressively dishonest, unprobitous (which I am pretending is a word), and baaaaad that Della Rovere will fight him, "to the end, and beyond that maybe, with any means at [his] disposal". "I intend to win any battle I fight," says Rodrigo quietly. Then, louder, "But what talk we of fighting? It is all in God's hands." And then he crosses himself a propos of nothing (pet peeeeeeeve). He lopes off down the hall and Della Rovere gets his game face on.

A blond cardinal with swoopy bangs reads off the first election results: Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia, 4; Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, 6; Cardinal Giuliano Della Rovere, 7; Cardinal Orsino Orsini (seriously?), 6. No Pope yet. And you know what's cool, I think they got a Scottish actor to play this guy so we could hear these names with the proper rolling R's at least once. Rodrigo gets his game face on. Outside, a plume of black smoke rises. Everyone watching's like awwww.

Lunchtime! The cardinals are all literally wearing bibs. I didn't notice the first time because the way things are going, a cardinal could show up wearing a dollar sign on a chain and I'd be like, "Hm, interesting historical touch." A crooked-nosed cardinal recounts to Rodrigo how they were holed up in there for a month after the death of Pope Sextus. The company was tolerable, apparently, but Cardinal Nose had to get a committee and petition going against the food. Then he crosses himself a propos of nothing. "And now there's gristle in my soup," he whines hopelessly. "Please, have mine, your grace," Rodrigo effuses. "And remember, vote Borgia!" Then he shits all over the wine and offers Cardinal Nose some rosé from a little flask he snuck in from his vineyards in Valencia. "How can I ever thank you?" says Cardinal Nose. Rodrigo seems to have an idea.

A nerdy little guy in black insists to Rodrigo that no outside contact is permitted, despite Cardinal Nose's (aka Vesucci's) delicate digestion, and anyway he has rabbit baked in milk. Rodrigo takes note and asks about Cardinal Piccolomini (Wait, seriously? That's a name? I thought that was just a nonsense phrase). Nerdo checks his records: suckling pig with rosemary. That's certainly how I like my suckling pig. Rodrigo acts all concerned and reiterates his duties as Vice Chancellor to make sure everyone's healthy, and then says something in Latin which probably means "sound body sound mind" or some shit, but of course Nerdo McPious reminds him that St. Augustine "extolled the virtues of fasting", which, I mean, if you use Augustine in your arguments you deserve to be fired from whatever job you have and if you're already unemployed you should be thrown in jail. Rodrigo agrees with me. "I think Augustine never had to vote in conclave." Nerdo just goes "well excuuuuuse me."

Cue montage!

Back in his cell, Rodrigo affixes a scroll to a dove's leg and narrates the contents. For Cardinals Vesucci, Piccolomini and Sansa, grants of titles and benefices from the big box of titles and benefices in the basement. Cesare retrieves the scroll. Later, in the kitchen, a scribe is poised to write out Vesucci's titles. Cesare munches on an apple and dictates. Steve Perry paces around and plops himself on a chair. Cesare and Steve follow a cook through the Vatican's big industrial kitchen. The cook lifts a dish cover to reveal Cardinal Piccolomini's suckling pig. "Roasted," says Cesare as he slides a scroll into its mouth, "and... stuffed." Haw-haw. "Cardinal Julius Vesucci," Steve orders. Rabbit. Baked in milk. The sexy servants all stand with their trays in a line as Nerdo McPious checks them one by one and then sends them off to be served. In his room, Cardinal Vesucci finds the scroll and slides it out, as does Piccolomini, and they're both so excited they can hardly unroll it.

Second vote. Della Rovere: 10. Sforza: 5. Rodrigo: 8. None for Orsino Orsini, I guess, which has got to suck. Still no majority, and call me crazy, but judging by the numbers, it seems Della Rovere has been up to a few games of his own.

In an actual room full of pigeons, Rodrigo writes once again to Chezz, asking him to send Steve Perry around to all their churches and collect all their stockpiles of gold and stones. Steve walks in at the head of a mule train, assures Cesare that he got it all, and then leaves, duh-ing that "these monks know no vows of poverty".

Back in the courtyard, Lucrezia happens upon Cesare prepping another dove. She asks him what's up kind of suspiciously. Cesare comments on the dual nature of the dove: symbol, and messenger. Symbol of what? "The uncorrupt soul," he snarks. "And a messenger of what?" "Corruption." "You mean to say... it bears news of how many votes we must buy in the Papal election?" says Lucrezia as the writers start setting her up to be the schemer she will become. Cesare laughs and reasons that at least her soul is still clean. She presses him for more information. He won't budge. In voiceover, Cesare assures Rodrigo that the loot is being divided among the necessary cardinals.

Third vote. For those of you keeping score at home, you might as well give up because they're editing right over the numbers, only letting the vote counter announce Rodrigo's score: 10. But, again, no Pope.

Rodrigo bundles Sforza into some other lovely set. He coyly reminds him that, were he to become Pope, he could not very well remain Vice Chancellor. Sforza's like hmm, subtle. I guess you'd have to stop being Vice Chancellor. Rodrigo's like Ohhh, you mean if I became Pope? Sforza's like well, you would certainly need a Vice Chancellor. Yeah, Sforza knows what's up. He lists criteria for a good VC, and Rodrigo's like let's cut the BS, and Sforza allows himself a smile and says, "I would say that the one who would be suitable to be Vice Chancellor would be wise to support the Vice Chancellor who would be Pope." Rodrigo smirks, does a "hit the mark" gesture against a pillar, and goes "Hm". "Hm" and its variants will become his catchphrase, I think.

Final vote. Della Rovere: 7. Roberto Colonna (who???): 2. Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia: 14. Everyone goes "Rabblerabblerabble!" "Cardinal Borgia has the required majority!" Rodrigo buries his head in his hands and starts making out with his rosary. Cardinal Sourgrapes Della Rovere pipes up, "Correction: Cardinal Borgia has bought the required majority." So there's some bitching, and Orsino Orsini does that tired old racist shit again. Rodrigo says, "I see. You would prefer to have been bought by an Italian." Orsinoni's like, "It's not racist if it's true!" Rodrigo's like whatevs, I can handle this, and declares his first act as Pope to be an inquiry into the election process. Just make sure you sweep up your pigeon droppings, eh? The second, to appoint a Vice Chancellor, the greatest office "with the greatest income". Let's not talk money now, you were doing all right there for a moment. He points out two obvious choices, Orsinino and Della Rovere, but too bad for them - shouldna ragged on the Pope. "That was not my intention," Della Rovere simpers. Orsini laughs sickly and parrots Della Rovere. Della Rovere laments his choice of henchman. "I see," says Rodrigo, advancing on Orsini. "And the Spanish race is closest to your bosom." Then he grabs his face and smooches him right on the mouth, with a big scary mchwa sound, and does the same to Della Rovere, and they're both like CRIKEY FUCK, YOU ALMOST KNOCKED MY TEETH OUT, and Orsini literally almost wipes his mouth in front of everyone. The election guy reminds them that something called "examination testes and pendentes" is required, which sounds narsty, but Rodrigo is "happy to comply".

Doors are opened, and a terrifying throne with a hole in the seat is carried into the chamber and placed right on top of the camera. The cardinals all gather around and peek in, and Della Rovere even grabs the rim in a "Kilroy Was Here" approximation. They all gossip about could Rodrigo secretly be a woman, and one guy snarks "Not if you count his children," and another goes "Let he without children cast the first stone," which is an awesome thing to say and I think he's my favourite cardinal. They're all very giggly because boys will be boys. Rodrigo enters in a white nighty, hikes it up, and sits over the hole. A young guy kneels and washes his hands in a basin. Rodrigo tells him to get it over with, "the suspense is killing them." Obligingly, the guy reaches under the stool and starts rooting around. His hands must be freezing. Rodrigo jumps a little on contact. Hilarious comedy guitar plays in the background. The guy looks up and says, "Abet duos testiculos et bene pendentes," which I think is Latin for "No Homo." Everyone claps. Seriously.

WHITE SMOKE! The crowd in the square loses their shit! Couples hug! It's like New Years Eve!

Rodrigo gets changed out of his cardinal robes and into his Papal robes. He walks down the hall and everyone bows. A cardinal goes out on the balcony and announces, "HABEMUS PAPAAAAAAA!" Everyone's like WOOOOOHOOOO! Rodrigo walks out and does his Evita thing. He starts Latining and everyone kneels. Guess who's last to go down? Cesare, that's who.

Int. whorehouse - night, Juan stumbles around spraying the ladies with wine and fake-Latining. His Jeremy Irons impression is terrible. He performs his own testes and pendentes examination on an unsuspecting girl walking by. She giggles. No-one claps. Oh, apparently it's an abbey and they're all nuns. Hm. He comes to the jacuzzi, I mean bathtub, and slops a bunch of the wine over the girls. One of them says something snooty about being blessed by the Pope's bastard. Juan loses his shit, shoves her head underwater, and snarls, "His son. His favourite son." But she doesn't hear him because she is underwater. Juan is not smart. He lets her up and shoves her in again. The other sisters are like whaaaa?

Confessional. Cesare's gearing up for a whinefest. Bribes, feeding paper to pigs and rabbits... Rodrigo smirks and promises that God will repay them tenfold. Maybe. Jeremy Irons is fucking killing it. He does this gross old man thing where he's cradling his face in one hand and playing with his lips with one of his fingers. Cesare reminds him that they're Spaniards, "they hate us", predicting that their enemies will also multiply tenfold, but he's grinning, so either he's a self-aware villain or he likes a challenge. Rodrigo goes back to the God Will Protect Us line, and Cesare asks him to please let God know that. Finally Rodrigo's like what crawled up your ass? Cesare demonstrates the catch-22 of his life: if the Church was really his calling, he would not actually have swindled the entire Christian world like he did. Come on, Dad, I wanna be a soldier! Daaaaaad! I wanna... I wanna be a soldier! I'll protect you, I promise! Dad! Dad! Dad! Rodrigo shuts him up by hastily Latining and getting out of there. Cesare massages his temples.

Later, Cesare walks through a slightly mangier-looking set than we're used to - the armoury, I take it - and happens upon a room where Juan is getting fitted for his ceremonial armour. Juan vogues for him. Cesare attempts, "You have... broad shoulders." "Are you calling me fat!?" Juan doesn't say. He starts tossing around ideas for insignias. Borgia bull in bright yellow? Aw man, yellow on your belly? Think ahead, dude. Cesare prefers black, because of fucking course he does. And then Juan delivers an absolutely radioactive burn. "Black for the cleric, but for a soldier, a prancing bull in yellow, or red perhaps. Black... it suits you." Cesare smiles, silently vows to shit in his brother's mouth one day soon, and leaves.

Courtyard. Rodrigo sits all Papally in his adorable white blockprint caplet and statement jewelry. Don't know why he left the house in the first place, the grass stains alone would throw that garment into utter despair. Lucrezia and Vanossa appear through the gate, Vanossa hanging back while Lucrezia runs forward to put her hands over her father's eyes, because, in the words of William Goldman, "this is before adolescence". Vanossa swoops in for a congratulatory smooch, but Rodrigo pulls back in a very "ew", very "I guess it's time to come out" way. "I have... lost," he says. Vanossa gets it and is highly pissed, but she keeps it together long enough to promise that he will never lose her. "In the flesh, I may have to," he says. A reading from the Book of Lemon: "Yeah, he thinks he deserves a vajayjay upgrade. He doesn't. He's not Tom Brady. Shut it down. DEALBREAKER." But this is also before 30 Rock, so all Vanossa can do is try not to have an attack of the vapours right then and there. Rodrigo tries to sell that he's actually going to quit the pussy cold turkey this time, because the Pope must be "seen to be chaste". Vanossa petulantly asks if he can be seen to love the children, and he acts all horrified and goes OF COURSE! But in terms of thinking only of the wellbeing of the children, I don't think that's what she meant, which makes me sad, because I'm predisposed to love Vanossa - but then again, I'm mostly going by HBO standards, wherein all 40+ non-blondes are fucking awesome, and this isn't HBO. Rodrigo knuckle-strokes Lucrezia's chin (yeah, it's that awkward), and Lucrezia is not upset at all by what is basically a divorce going on right in front of her (this is after divorce), which is a severe failure on both the writers' and the director's parts. Like, I could see Gioffre not getting it, because he's wee, but I mean, why is Lucrezia even there? Vanossa tries to hold back the tears as she wonders if she must take a vow of poverty along with her vow of chastity. "Poverty?" Rodrigo yawps. "God forbid!" Somewhere, Jesus facepalms.

Nerdo McPious is quilling plans for the ceremonial triumph parade, listing off all the showy Renaissance excess while the opening strains of Handel's Zadock the Priest begin to play in the background. Which is slightly annoying, since Handel was 200+ years in the future - it would be like playing Don't Stop Believin' at Marie Antoinette's beheading. Which even Sofia Coppola didn't attempt. And yes, I'm admitting that I wouldn't have even noticed if I wasn't randomly very familiar with Zadock the Priest for reasons I won't go into at the moment. Cut to the parade itself, and we start to see some of what Nerdo is narrating, including the Borgia family wobbling forth on a very big litter. Cesare is in his civies including a kicky little beret. Vanossa is lovely in black. Cesare reminds her ruefully that she's not supposed to be in mourning. She asks what exactly they're gaining. The writers are - I mean, Cesare is too tired to think of anything wittier than a sarcastic "The future?"  Somewhere else on the line, Juan is sporting his new armour, sans bull of the red or yellow pursuasion. And then, as the music swells to the monumental "Zaaaaaaadock the priiiiiieeeest" line, we see Rodrigo, all white and gold and triangular in his blingy robes and hilarious hat, bobbing forward on the fifteenth century's answer to the Popemobile: a big wooden chair under a dinky canopy perched precariously on the shoulders of a couple of young bucks. We get a closeup of his self-satisfied face bobble-heading on his shoulders, and then we get a decent amount of shaky RodrigoCam footage bobbling into the courtyard while the canopy obscures his/our view of the basilica's cupola. There are primary-coloured pants. One of Rodrigo's litter-bearers looks positively miserable. The bishops are all in their own blingy robes and hilarious hats. Except Cesare, which is sad, because that would be magical.

Rodrigo leads the College of Cardinals forth into the cathedral. Everyone kneels as he passes. He's doing an ultra-cool Papal sign of the cross where he only moves his wrist, like he's simply too holy to get the whole arm in on it. Later, up on the throne, relieved of his hilarious hat, he is presented with an even more hilarious hat, which the MC calls the "Tiara". (Is it sexist that I thought tiaras were gender-specific?) Ornamented with three crowns, because all status hats are really just pissing contests. The MC slides the giant metal monstrosity over Rodrigo's condomish skullcap. There are no words to describe how hilariously top-heavy he looks now, nor how cute it is when he smiles out from beneath the crown and the top of it is most certainly not in the shot.

Thankfully nobody thinks to brief Lucrezia on anything ahead of time, and she never thinks to wait until after the ceremony to start asking questions, so we get to watch the fun bits AND learn by her proxy at the same time. What is his family to call him? "Holy. Father.", says Cesare. "Hoewly Fathuh," she Britishes. "That's easy. Even I can remember that." Ugh, random character development on throwaway lines is worse than syphilis. This show is an eye candy show much more than a writing show so far. Which I've heard is the same as The Tudors. Which is a bit tiresome. Back to the MC just in time to hear him bellow "A Plenary Indulgence" and then back to the sibs before anything interesting comes of that. Which is too bad, because I saw that movie Luther and Plenary Indulgences often come from Alfred Molina and are hilarious. Anyway, Lucrezia bothers Cesare again, and he's like "WHAT," but smiling 'cause he loves her, and she asks what she must call herself, "Holy Daughter", but he insists that she is still Lucrezia Borgia. She'll change her name when she marries, he says a bit pissily. "And when will I marry?" Eyes up front, you ADD nutcase. "Never if I can help it," he growls, both jokingly and seriously. He warns her that any marriage of hers will probably be awesome for Papa Robo and no-one else. Her face falls and she thinks a nun's habit might be a safer, cleaner option. Plus she would get to do fun things like get her head shoved underwater by a jealous illegitimate son.

Later, two altar boys undress Rodrigo (not in that way, perv) as he marvels that he is Rodrigo Borgia no longer (sorry, y'are for the purposes of this recap), but "Alexander Sextus". "And my dad," says Cesare. "I am no longer 'I', I am... 'we'," Rodrigo continues. Wait, really? Like, officially? "We felt so... alone up there." Poor baby. Shut up. "Humbled, even. Even frightened." "You surprise me, Father," says Cesare obligingly. A pair of small hands reach up to slide a sash off Rodrigo's shoulders and it's terrifying because it looks for a moment like Jeremy Irons has little doll hands like that Kristen Wiig SNL character. Finally someone plucks the giant metal bucket from Rodrigo's head, and as he rubs his aching neck, the spell seems to have broken; he's less cracked. Terrible mirror they have. Cesare guesses God's already pleased because they're not all buck naked and being prodded with flaming pitchforks yet. Rodrigo passes off his jewelry to the altar boys with an affectionate "There we go!", which makes me think he's great with kids, which is quite my weakness. Then he goes back to Cesare, mumbles something about God, and collapses. Only a little bit. But then he rights himself. And keeps talking. And at this point Cesare's just treating him like a drunk guy at a party who is trying to carry on a conversation despite the preliminary dry heaves, which I think is the right way to go.

The Cardinals are filing out, and Della Rovere is talking shit to the ambassador from France, wondering if the King of France would agree that Borgia sucks the bag. The Ambassador tries to be diplomatic, conceding that if the grace of God can't make Borgia suck any less, it would only be France's duty to help fix up the situation. Della Rovere and Colm Feore's chin are very pleased.

Rodrigo is handing out offices with a certain apathy, warning everybody that they better not screw the pooch, and Latining to seal the deal. And now, the greatest office of all: Vice Chancellor, what whaaaaaat! He throws away a line about why we the audience should give half a shit about the VC, and then, with much ado and pausing for affect, announces "the most august, the most valued colleague, the brightest hope for the future of the church..." It should be noted that Orsini is very narrowly not losing his shit. "Cardinal... Ascanio Sforza." NO WAY! NO FUCKING WAY! Everyone's like rabblerabblerabble. Sforza gets up and bows. Orsini leaps to his feet, all three inches of him, and screams, "SIMONY!" Noun, chiefly historical, the buying or selling of ecclesiastical privileges, for example pardons or benefices... so basically the entire point of the Renaissance church? I don't... understand... what his problem is. Orsini and his wounded pride stride forward and holler a bit more, but before he can start getting racist Cesare steps forward and reminds him that he's in consistory (noun, a church court or council... this episode is really bitch-slapping my vocabulary). Rodrigo deadpans, "perhaps we misheard him". Orsini doesn't recognize an out when he sees one. "That office was promised to me," he tantrums. Rodrigo asks if he paid for it. "With my acceptance of your foul election." Man, Orsini's really tiring. I think he's better off just parroting Della Rovere. Rodrigo plays the "Are you calling me a liar?" card that always works so well in historical dramas, and implies that, if we're all playing fair, Orsini's expectation of advancement is exactly why he is unsuited for the job. Orsini has nothing to say to that because he is either useless or senile. Sforza kneels and kisses Rodrigo's ring. Della Rovere passive-aggressively declares his approval of Rodrigo's new Obama policies and also kisses the ring. Then he hisses to Orsini, "Kiss the ring, you fool." Like why is he even bothering with Orsini. So Orsini goes "As do I," kisses the ring, gives a lame apology, and invites everyone to a party at his place. Overkill.

Two days later, Rodrigo and Cesare pull up outside of Casa Orsini, Rodrigo in his fancy Santa-inspired robes, Cesare in his purple. Cesare is also carrying a monkey. Rodrigo asks him to please explain himself. Cesare says something completely unintelligible about "appetite" which I think amounts to the monkey's a better judge of character than either of them. I mean, the only thing that would be a shock with this lot is if someone turned out to be a kind upstanding citizen who volunteered at the women's shelter every weekend.

Everyone sits around the big round table while Rodrigo makes up some shit about how God spoke to him about piety. Orsini asks if he would prefer to dine on gruel. Everyone thinks that's hilarious because poor people are gross. Rodrigo comes right back, saying they'll dine however Orsini wants because they're his guests, an insult so veiled that Orsini's too dumb to catch it. He orders the wine poured for Rodrigo, but Cesare insists on tasting it first. Orsini gets flustered and thinks he's questioning the vintage. Judging by how Cesare's letting the monkey lap out of the goblet first, that's clearly not what he's tasting for. Eveyone laughs and laughs because the only thing funnier than poor people is monkeys acting like people. Della Rovere asks how the monkey's enjoying it. Cesare grabs the furball kind of roughly and stares at his face for a few seconds. When the monkey's not immediately dying, he chuckles and gives the wine a thumbs up. It's all so obvious I can't believe it's that un-awkward in there. Della Rovere compares a great wine to the Papacy, using imagery that is kind of weak, and then simpers, "consumed by a monkey." Rodrigo's like did you just call me a monkey in front of everyone? But Della Rovere claims he means more like, "we are all animals". Rodrigo's like "well played, although what you're saying makes little sense because this is before Darwin". Then the monkey pees on Cesare's napkin and it's like the funniest thing ever. Cesare excuses himself, begging his lordship's pardon on behalf of the monkey. “Excuse my monkey.” Orsini can't even take it, it's so funny. “Someone write that down! I smell an inside joke!”

Once in the hallway, Cesare catches a servant jogging down the hall. His haste is suspicious, so Cesare follows him into the kitchen, where the squirrelly redhead is using the handle of his dagger as a mortar and pestle. Cesare knows immediately what's up and presses his own blade against the back of the guy's neck. The assassin quite easily knocks his arm away and they get into a clinch, each generously pointing out the other's Adam's apple with their blades. The assassin kind of looks like the lovechild of Kevin McKidd and Rufus Sewell if said progeny got hit in the face with a club and sustained major reconstructive surgery. Panting and sort of smiling, Cesare commends the assassin's speed. "For a cook." Red - or should I say, Rosso - quite quickly gives up the identity of his employer: Orsini.

Pardon me, I just fainted from shock. Where were we? Right. Cesare promises him double what Orsini's paying. Rosso immediately rolls over and drops his dagger. Cesare sort of laughs and runs him up against a wall, growling, "I'm not that stupid!" To his credit, Rosso recovers quickly and pitches that Cesare needs him, so to kill him would be stupid. "Call me stupid, then," says Cesare, and asks why he shouldn't carve out his larynx and feed it to his monkey. You guys, François Arnaud is obviously a gorgeous man, but he is really prodding my heterosexuality here. Rosso pulls out the sixth commandment, "Thou Shalt Not Kill." Waste of breath, that, since the Pope is his confessor. All right, back to the resume. "Because you'll never meet another assassin like me." Cesare takes a step back and goes, "You sure?" Rosso takes that as a challenge and, in about three gestures, disarms Gesare and pins him up against the adjacent wall. Shot of the monkey getting shitfaced. Back to Rosso, carefully lowering the two daggers he somehow managed to procure in about three seconds. He hands one back to Cesare, who plays with it kind of bashfully, and examines the spot on his neck where Cesare almost skewered him. "But we were talking terms," he says. News to Cesare. "I will gladly work for the Pope, or the Pope's son." Cardinals can be flaky, but Chezz and Rosso are matched in their ruthlessness. "Elaborate?" "I have smothered infants in their beds, but only when the parents paid me." Oh, well that's all right then. Cesare asks him what's in the powder. Rosso holds up the now-dead monkey and cracks, "Eternal life." Cesare thinks it lacks a certain subtlety. Rosso rightly points out that this night has not really been about subtlety. So Cesare fills a carafe of wine with perhaps too much white powder - I mean, you're not making Kool-Aid (at least not literally) - and orders Rosso to serve it to Orsini. Really? You think? You could easily get rid of that guy by telling him there's a surprise party for him at the bottom of the ocean.

Cesare returns to the dining room just as Rosso is leaving. He spoke of subtlety but he cannot not make a big show out of glancing shiftily at the goblet, the carafe, the assassin, the target, anything. Cardinal Nose seems to enjoy his soup. Della Rovere mock-concernedly points out the bleeding cut on Cesare's neck from Rosso's dagger. Cesare blames the monkey, wipes the excess blood with his finger, and licks it. Eeeeveryone wants a piece of the vampire craze. Della Rovere goes, "Animals will do that. They lack a soul." Another metaphor? Who knows? Who cares? Out of nowhere, Orsini proposes a toast, "To harmony amongst us, servants of God." I guess this is the Renaissance version of that moment among colleagues, or The Apprentice, or high school girls, where some sort of drama is resolved and all of a sudden everyone's bester friends than ever. And it's no less stupid or disingenuous here. Rodrigo adds, "To the communion of saints, and the forgiveness of sins." To the resurrection of the body and to life everlasting, amen, says my past Catholic schoolgirl self. "Amen," says Della Rovere only. Again, that fucking guy. They drink. The clock starts ticking. Della Rovere proposes a second toast, to Metaphor, and Cesare's like please explain your bullshit, and while Della Rovere expunges tired crap all over the table, Orsini's beginning to look kind of panty and shiny. And because Cesare can't be cool for like one second, he proposes another toast, "to monkeys." Christ. "MONKEYS?" says Orsini, like it's some grave insult, although probably he's just at that stage of nausea where everything anyone does is supremely annoying. "They lick your hand one minute, bite your neck the next," says Cesare pointedly. "And everyone knows what you do with the monkey that bites you." Actually no, they don't, because normal people rarely own monkeys, and this whole thing is insane, Chezz. Della Rovere goes, "I give up. What do you do with the monkey?" At this point, Orsini rises from his chair, sputtering and foaming. Everyone promptly forgets about Cesare, who takes the moment to darkly mutter, "Wring its neck," and knock back a bunch of wine. Finally someone yells "POISON!" And Rodrigo seems genuinely shocked, and as the foam gives way to blood Orsini sputters, "I accuse!" (Which doesn't have the same ring as J'accuse, but this was before Émile Zola.) Cesare hustles Rodrigo out of there while nobody suggests calling an ambulance and Orsini continues to yawp.

Rodrigo and Cesare flee through the house. The former is still having a hard time grasping how someone could deign to poison the Pope. Cesare reveals what the mean girls are calling him behind his back: a "knighted ape". Rodrigo is still sort of understandably aggravated, and Cesare's like "sooo, Borgia time?" and Rodrigo's like, "let's fucking do it." Cesare sends Rodrigo off in the very fancy carriage and Rosso joins him. Cesare commends him for his work. Rosso breaks it to him that it was an attack on the whole family and they'd better hoof it. Cesare's like d'oh? Rosso spells out for him, "Your whole family's in danger," and that's when Cesare's like "Ohhhh, right, ok, I'll start running, then."