Review: Mary Queen of Scots

Mary Queen of Scots (15)

UK 2018  124 mins  Dir: Josie Rourke  Cast: Margot Robbie, Saoirse Ronan, David Tennant, Jack Lowden, Gemma Chan, Guy Pearce, Adrian Lester, Ismael Cruz Córdova

Spoiler alert! The most outrageous moment in Mary Queen of Scots comes when a UFO lands and space aliens whisk Mary and Elizabeth off to Alpha Centauri to live with Elvis and Adolf Hitler. Or that’s what one might be forgiven for assuming takes place to judge by the foaming response of members of the uppity historian community to Donmar Warehouse artistic director Josie Rourke’s costume drama.

They’ve laid into everything from the accents (Mary had a French accent rather than a Scottish one, apparently) to diversity in the casting and the climactic meeting of monarchs, which, er, never actually happened. But historical accuracy was never a major concern for a certain William Shakespeare, so Rourke and writer/House of Cards showrunner Beau Willimon’s loose adaptation of John Guy’s Queen of Scots: The True Life of Mary Stuart finds itself in pretty illustrious company. In fact, they are far from the first to imagine a meeting between Mary and Elizabeth, which works perfectly well dramatically. Other divergences are largely a matter of taste. This reviewer struggles to understand what is actually achieved by pretending that the respective courts were more racially diverse than seems credible. But this is hardly a deal-breaker, and any ruse that permits the casting of the great Adrian Lester as Elizabeth’s wily ambassador Lord Thomas Randolph is surely worth swallowing.

Spoiler alert number two! Rourke’s film begins at the end with Mary (Ronan) stepping up to be forcibly separated from her noggin, which means those who are hoping the revisionism will extend to a happy ending should leave immediately. Still here? The story in brief, in case you weren’t paying attention in school: Catholic Mary Stuart pitches up in 16th century Scotland from France, bent on wresting the English throne from her Protestant cousin Elizabeth (Robbie). This does not go according to plan.

It’s been said that costume dramas often tell us more about the times in which they were made than about the era depicted, and Mary Queen of Scots is no exception. In modish Time’s Up/#MeToo style, the film’s thesis – regularly hammered home – seems to be that the two women might have sorted everything out quite amicably, such is the mutual regard beneath their rivalry (“two sisters bound by womanhood,” asserts Mary), had it not been for all those bastard, scheming men. Each faces challenges in the race to to spawn an heir before the other, the pox-ridden Virgin Queen being at an obvious disadvantage, while Mary’s second spouse, Lord Darnley (Lowden), turns out to be what the late Quentin Crisp might have described as a ‘Stately Homo’, opting to spend his wedding night cavorting with openly gay Italian musician David Rizzio (Córdova). Once again, this may cause historians’ hackles to rise, but it does give Willimon an opportunity to gift Mary a great put-down after his Lordship is finally cajoled into doing his duty: “One minute makes not a man”. More of this kind of thing and Mary might have offered a real awards season challenge to The Favourite rather than having to settle for crumbs. Still, at least one of those meagre three BAFTA nominations – Makeup & Hair – is thoroughly well-deserved: Mary’s gravity-defying hairdo appears to be welded to her head in those early outdoor scenes.

Among the familiar faces lurking beneath period whiskers is Guy Pearce as Elizabeth’s advisor William Cecil, but you have to look fairly closely to recognise David Tennant as Mary’s apoplectic Protestant adversary John Knox, whose many colourful outbursts include: “Worse than pestilence or famine…is a woman with a crown.” This may be a fairly accurate representation of the ranting reformer’s views (he did write The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, after all), but it doesn’t help that Tennant plays him like a two-dimensional panto villain, positively daring us to shout “He’s behind you!” at the screen.

As expected, however, the two leads rise to the occasion. The ever-impressive Saoirse Ronan has grown effortlessly into adult roles, here proving equally adept at portraying Mary’s steely will and physical vulnerability (though, once again, historians have objected, pointing out that the real Mary was a much taller and more imposing figure). Margot Robbie has the advantage of showy prosthetics, but also succeeds admirably in revealing Elizabeth as an increasingly tragic figure.

There’s no shortage of exposition, not much in the way of action (one grisly slaying is unfortunately reminiscent of Murder on the Orient Express), and that big meeting, when it eventually occurs, proves something of an anti-climax. Rourke chooses to set this up teasingly as something of a choreographed dance amid artfully hung drapes, which feels more like a theatrical device than something that belongs in a feature film.