Mary Queen of Scots

Some of the posters for Mary Queen of Scots loftily proclaim that it is ‘the perfect story for our times.’ Whilst such a magnanimous statement would backfire embarrassingly on a lesser film, Josie Rourke’s breath-taking historical drama confidently assures its audiences that it isn’t here to mess around. It sets out to deliver on that bold statement and effortlessly succeeds. Although the marketing of the film has been subject to some criticism (angered tweets from cinephiles bemoaning its lacklustre trailer or its posters with ‘Yas Queen’ graffitied on them have become commonplace over the last few months) that shouldn’t sway film goers from missing out on an exquisite piece of storytelling.

The film begins as it ends, with a candle being snuffed out and an execution.  From this bleak vision of what is to come, Beau Willimon and John Guy’s elegantly constructed screenplay retraces its steps back to when Mary (played by the enigmatic and fiery Saoirse Ronan) arrives back to her homeland, an event which begins a tale of rivalry, passion, love and loss. With Margot Robbie’s Elizabeth I sitting on the throne (a role which could easily stray into Blackadder territory) without a child, Mary’s arrival sets off dynastic alarm bells ringing.

It’s an ambitious and sweeping story which crams more period drama scandal and sensation into its running time than an entire season of Downton Abbey. Comparisons to other historical films of a similar nature will surely be drawn, but for me the real comparison lies in Netflix’s The Crown series. Both balance the political and the personal with grace; both are bolstered by stunning central performances; both have lavish set design and dreamy scores; but perhaps most importantly both make you ignore any historical liberties taken and scoop you up in their hypnotic tension.

But perhaps the most admirable thing about the writing of this film is its rich subtext, which many reviews seem to miss entirely. It’s a story about the hardship of female power, and how men will always try to undermine you or divide you from other women if they can get at that power. Mary and Elizabeth are women who should be able to do whatever they want (and if they were men would be able to) but due to their testosterone heavy courts are manipulated, abused and betrayed. The obvious contemporary reference is of course Brexit, with ideas of dividing nations and creating needless strife for the sake of pride run throughout the piece, but these notions are never laboured or bared down upon. There’s a hint of fake news in there too, as David Tennant’s growling and deliciously hateful John Knox spits out anti-monarchical rhetoric. He embodies the fears and prejudices of the nation, as he dubs Mary a “murderous harlet.” Elizabeth is quite right as she muses “how cruel men are.” My favourite films have plenty of meaty ideas lurking under the surface if you want to delve into them, but still work on a surface level of sheer cinematic entertainment. Mary Queen of Scots falls nicely into this model.

And it truly is a cinematic beast. From its gorgeous highland vistas to its artisanal colour palette, the film takes a visual direction which could so easily be blander and more televisual and turns it into something quite extraordinary to behold. Josie Rourke’s direction brings something smart and classy to the table, with expert lighting and some cleverly crafted scenes to match. I was particularly struck by the mirroring present in the film – the bloody excess from a new born baby smattered between Mary’s thighs strike a perfectly judged contrast between Elizabeth’s similarly placed paper crafts – a marker of the difference in their abilities of creation. As Mary creates life, Elizabeth can only perfect her artwork, rendering herself powerless by the standards of her time. Rourke's direction is paired beautifully by an emotional and powerful score by Max Richter, which is equally regal and bombastic. It's an adaptable score which feels not only like a call to arms but an embodiment of the spirit and brilliance of its central female figures. Rourke also gives us one of the best final shots in a film I've seen in quite some time; part of a final sequence which, along with Richter's score, had me in tears.

All of this is matched by a diverse cast with messages of inclusion and acceptance, particularly shown towards Mary’s confidant David Rizzio, portrayed by Ismael Cruz Cordova. David, a gay character who is at one point seen dressed in one of the other maid’s dresses  asks: “Is it a sin that I feel more of a sister to you than a brother?” to which Mary responds lovingly: “Be whoever you wish with us. You make for a lovely sister.” Such lines may have felt anachronistic and jarring in a lesser film, but Mary Queen of Scots' inclusion of them indicate not only its quality, but its good heart and incredibly contemporary edge – which I hope will set it apart from other period dramas and make this a film to remember. If not, it certainly proves a stunning debut from Josie Rourke, whose name I shall be closely watching in future ...