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MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS
Director: Josie Rourke Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Margot Robbie, Jack Lowden, Joe Alwyn, Guy Pearce, Ismael Cruz Cordova, Adrian Lester, James McArdle, Martin Compston, David Tennant MPAA
Rating: Running Time: 2:04 Release Date: 12/7/18 (limited); 12/14/18 (wider) |
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Review by Mark Dujsik | December 13, 2018 The official historical record states that Queen Elizabeth I of England and Queen Mary I of Scotland never met, despite the fact that the two would become mortal enemies, vying for control of the throne of England. Mary would be alleged to have been part of a plot to assassinate Elizabeth, and Elizabeth would order Mary's execution as a result. If the cousins had met, the circumstances likely would have been as they are during a climactic scene in Mary Queen of Scots—in secret, away from prying eyes and snooping ears, and with a defeated understanding that no real compromise between them could be made. Beau Willimon's screenplay (based on John Guy's book Queen of Scots: The True Life of Mary Stuart) sees these two women as strong and capable leaders. Either of them would have been perfectly suited to be the Queen of England and, if Mary had risen to that throne, Scotland. Elizabeth, a Protestant, simply had the political and religious climate of the time in her favor. The Roman Catholic Mary had as much of a claim, if not a greater one, to the English crown, but the anti-Catholic sentiment of time—made official by Elizabeth's father Henry VIII and re-instated by Elizabeth herself—sent Mary into exile in France and, upon her return to the island, kept her relegated to the throne of Scotland. This information is related in some opening text to the film. It establishes two truths that give a deeper meaning to the conflict between the two queens. The first is that there are political, social, and cultural realities that shape the conflict between these women. The second is that, no matter how much power a woman may gain, there will be petty and frightened men who think they would be better suited to such power. As the characters are presented in director Josie Rourke's film, there is no reason that Mary and Elizabeth couldn't reach some form of compromise, considering their familial relationship and the bond that they share as rulers of parts of the same island. The political winds and the hot air of multiple men, though, ensure that the two are set on destroying each other. We have seen such a story of palace intrigue and political conspiracy, playing out in the private chambers and grand halls of a castle or two, many times. It's a tale as old as known drama, yet Willimon and Rourke give it some new life by seeing it through modern eyes. Within the context of a supreme monarch in the mid-1500s, we typically don't think of gender as some limiting or restricting factor. There had been queens before Elizabeth or Mary—and not just in England. A monarch is a monarch. Within that way of thinking, who would even consider questioning that ruler's power? The key difference between the film's versions of Mary, played by Saoirse Ronan, and Elizabeth, played by Margot Robbie, is each one's ability to recognize the answer to that question. Mary returns to Scotland from France, taking the throne from her half-brother James (James McArdle), who appears to give up his power graciously. She's accompanied to her homeland by Lord Bothwell (Martin Compston), who has sworn an oath to protect her and says plainly that he expects nothing in return for his service. In her desire to produce a child who would become the rightful heir to both the English and Scottish crowns, she marries Henry (Jack Lowden), an English-born nobleman Scot with his own claim to the throne. At various points, they all betray her in some way or ways, and it's through this process that Mary learns never to trust a man with a claim to power—and most definitely one who plainly says he wants nothing in return for what he does for a woman. Elizabeth, famously childless, has learned that lesson, refusing to take a husband (but enjoying the company of at least one man in her chambers), but she still has to contend with men of the court who insist that they know better than her. Her closest confidant William Cecil (Guy Pearce) has been in the political game long enough to know what is best and cares about Elizabeth enough to be honest. After suffering a bout of pox, though, Elizabeth becomes withdrawn, worrying about her appearance. The plots and schemes against Mary, using the Church of Scotland and its followers as a cudgel, begin to unfold without Elizabeth's full knowledge. This story has been told before—in books and plays, on film and television. The versions of the story differ primarily in perspective and sympathy—whose point of view we should take and whom we should see as the victim. Willimon's screenplay is generous to both women, succeeding in allowing us to comprehend the motives and thinking of them both. In certain ways, they each become the other's victim: Elizabeth, in Mary's rush to marry and produce an heir who would take her cousin's place (The act to achieve that is seen as passionless and transactional), and Mary, in the final condemnation of her cousin to the executioner's axe. We gain sympathy for both, too, in Elizabeth's regret for ignoring her desires in order to keep power and in Mary's misplaced trust in so many so-called allies. The film's narrative and thematic coup, though, is in presenting their conflict as the result of schemes—all of them perpetrated by men who care nothing about them as women or monarchs—beyond their control. The tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots is not limited to either Mary or Elizabeth. It befalls both of them. Copyright © 2018 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved. |
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(for some violence and sexuality)
