Henry Avila's Reviews > Richard III

A hero, in his own mind or a historical villain? King Richard the Third , grew up in the turbulent years of the War of the Roses, 1455-1485, the English crown fought between the House of York, symbolized by the White Rose, and the House of Lancaster, the Red Rose, Sovereigns on the throne, vanish rapidly, ironically, two branches of the same Plantagenet family. Richard's brother Edward IV, at 6 foot four inches, the tallest British monarch in history, is dying, over indulgences, so much food and drink, the warrior king has become very fat, I mean obese. His two sons, Edward and Richard, are too young to rule, with the demise of their father, Uncle Richard, the Duke of Gloucester, places the young , trusting princes, his nephews, in the legendary Tower of London, part castle and the other a prison, Queen Elizabeth, the mother, Edward the fourth's wife, flees to a sanctuary with her two remaining daughters. They the little princes, disappear without a trace from sight, a mystery that has never been solved. Wild rumors spread that they were executed, by the rather ambitious man. Through less than ethical maneuvering, ( treacherous, some say ) with the help of the greedy Duke of Buckingham , takes the throne, many rivals fall, Buckingham too, including even disloyal brother Clarence, the last one, he has, and the blood spills freely, but a new king is crowned, Richard 111, long live the king... Queen Anne dies, the new monarch's wife, he then wants to marry young Elizabeth, his brother Edward IV's, daughter... Uneasy lies the man on the throne, a new threat emerges from exile in France, the Earl of Richmond's navy, lands in England, his marching army sets off to challenge Richard, the Battle of Bosworth Field , will decide who becomes master of the unstable nation. But the eyes of the dead, will no longer see the beautiful blue skies above, the green grass under their feet, the sweet smelling roses, both white and red, growing on the land, the soothing sounds of water, as it goes over rocks, in a small brook, the singing of the happy birds, to each other, on a tree, the gentle winds touching the gentlemen's faces, the magic of the rainbow colors, after a refreshing rain, the warm Sun, drying the pastures ... The caressing and kisses , of loved ones, the untroubled, shouting children, playing outside ... riding a horse over a hill , looking at the gorgeous sunset, as it dips below the horizon, pets who are always glad to see you, without any reservations, the taste of newly baked bread, the wonder of the moon shining down, on them, as they walk under the rays, trying to guess, what it really is, the steep, powerful sea waves rushing the shore, bringing unknown objects and quickly going back... no the winners or losers, that can not rise again, will miss all these things.... as their lives ebb slowly, into nothingness ...