MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS: Two Tigresses and a Great Stain of Blood

The story of how Mary Stuart was executed is also connected with the beginnings of cinema. However, the tale of how this came about must be set within a broader context. Although the conflict between the title character and Elizabeth I Tudor has already been told, cinema had to wait for a version that placed greater emphasis on the unique relationship between the two fascinated antagonists while demythologizing the notion that women were a counterbalance to war-mongering men. It is, one might say, a strictly feminist film because it tells the story of strong women. “Mary, Queen of Scots” largely meets the expectations placed upon it, although it undoubtedly had to elbow its way through similar biographies.

The title character, a French ruler, turns eighteen, sails to Scotland, and—naturally—wants to reclaim her father’s throne, a fact that does not sit well with the English queen, Elizabeth. Not only is a conflict over the throne inevitable, but Mary Stuart is also a Catholic. At this point, a struggle begins, full of false courtesy, conspiracies, religious tensions, and a peculiar obsession between the women. The ending of this story is well-known, but before heads rolled, there had to be an intense chess game of emotions.

It’s a pity, then, that Beau Willimon’s script, from the hand that brought us “House of Cards”, is not closer to the thriller that characterized his earlier work. Although we have political intrigue and tension caused by conflicting interests that can only escalate, there is often a sense that this film is merely going through the motions of delivering a basic history lesson. In moments when the camera strays from the main characters and attempts, like a costume drama, to delve into the intricacies of various layers of historical events, the drama fizzles out, and the strong weapon of resilient women loses its impact. An intriguing premise, which could have resonated well with modern feminist cinema, fails to fully exploit its potential, with the gender aspect surfacing only half-heartedly. While one could argue that this is a story about tigresses who have learned to play by male rules, thereby dooming their souls, the film ultimately offers a shallow evaluation of their roles. Neither of these women allowed for compromise; both bowed to no one in the face of conflict. Yet, the film lacks the psychological motivation that would make “Mary, Queen of Scots” something more than just a historical biopic that impresses visually and effectively conveys the spirit of the era but seems anachronistic compared to similar films.

The disappointment with the directorial and narrative choices is mainly due to the fact that Saoirse Ronan and Margot Robbie, playing Mary and Elizabeth, perform without significant missteps on screen. Ronan, though inspired by familiar paintings depicting a pale and gaunt Mary gazing at us with a wistful and defeated expression, adds warmth and vulnerability to the character. Her portrayal supports the film’s thesis that sometimes a lamb must become a wolf. Robbie, as Elizabeth, seems an unconventional choice, but in the end, we accept her youthful, heavily made-up portrayal of the Queen of England. Guy Pearce and Jack Lowden appear in the background, representing the male world that occasionally softens in the face of the central conflict.

Films like this are often called solid, but little more is added after that. This well-executed, superbly acted, and fairly well-sounding costume drama (though the musical compositions are not memorable) may come across as bland and unpolished. It’s a shame that the elements that could make the film at least intriguing fade into correctness and a lack of boldness necessary to turn this into a fully-fledged thriller. Nonetheless, it’s worth shuffling these blood-soaked cards of history in your hands, if only to understand that great historical clashes can have their roots in very small human vices.