Writer: Beau Willimon 

Director: Josie Rourke 

Despite spending 18 out of every 20 seconds at school studying the Tudors, my knowledge of Mary Stuart was limited before viewing Josie Rourke’s masterful directorial debut, Mary Queen of Scots. I knew the basics; she was Scottish, had red hair and had an altercation with a guillotine which didn’t go so well. But apart from that, the relationship between her and Elizabeth I was lacking from our never-ending Tudor study. Perhaps the reason, as this film shows, the relationship was too complex for the simple narrativized history the UK government constantly peddles.  

The film is centered upon Mary’s, the wonderful Saoirse Ronan, return to Scotland after the death of her husband in France. She returns to the throne of Scotland, which threatens the reign and ultimate succession of Margot Robbie’s Elizabeth. Mary claims the right to succeed Elizabeth on the English throne and naturally Elizabeth disagrees. The film follows the battle between the two courts as they use politics, the military and progeny to try and dominate the other.  

Mary Queen of Scots is the story of two women trapped within a sea of largely deplorable men. These are not uninteresting men, David Tennant as the puritan priest John Knox has surely put in the supporting turn of the year, unrecognizable as a hate-spewing monster.  Gender dynamics and power are at the centre of Beau Willimon’s script, and how Mary and Elizabeth define themselves in relation to their gender. Mary is far more comfortable than Elizabeth in owning her gender in relation to the rampant misogyny they both face on a second-by-second basis. Elizabeth at one-point declares; ‘I am more man than woman now. The crown has made me so.’ Mary and Elizabeth are the de facto rulers of England and Scotland, their word is law and they can declare an execution at the snap of their jewelled fingers. But the courtiers that surround them, the advisors and the Earls, they feel as if the power rests with them. And, more importantly, they detest the fact a human with a vagina is the one giving out orders. When Lord Randolph and the Earl of Moray, the two top advisors to each queen, are discussing the battle between the two Crowns, Moray comments; ‘How did it come to this? Wise men beholden to the whims of women.’ 

There are many startling aspects of this film; Saoirse Ronan and Margot Robbie’s performances are both wonderful in distinct ways. Ronan plays Mary with an underlying rage; the anger at having to battle with her cousin and the never-ending effort to quell the ceaseless coups against her. While Robbie’s Elizabeth is a resigned, almost heartbroken figure. She knows Mary has rights to the English throne, but the machinations of power leave her no choice but to pursue her death.  

One overlooked aspect thus far in many reviews is the fighting sequence that takes place between fighters loyal to Mary and others to Knox and Moray. Pre-artillery fighting sequences are a common part of cinema and TV but often come within a fantasy context, think Tolkien or Game of Thrones. The fighters in Mary Queen of Scots seem utterly normal, devoid of any notion of super-human fighting skills that fantasy characters often come with. To see these villagers, peasants, running at each other with no defenses and no medicine in the event of inevitable injury, is gut-wrenching. It is a relatively short sequence, less than five minutes, and yet it feels far more emotional and full of jeopardy than an hour of fighting in a fantasy realm.  

Director Josie Rourke and cinematographer John Mathieson use clever colour codes to distinguish between Mary and Elizabeth, England and Scotland. Elizabeth’s English court is all wood and gorgeous natural light, whereas Mary’s Scotland is an equally lavish but bare castle, lit by roaring fires. Mathieson uses light to create wonderfully distinct looks for each country, without sinking to clichéd dualities. Red is another colour that appears throughout the film, whether Mary’s period or the dress she is ultimately executed in. Rouke and Mathieson use it to demonstrate the dual historical perception of Mary; she is not remembered as an incredibly intelligent, bi-lingual ruler. Instead, she is remembered as a woman who gave birth and had sex with someone she shouldn’t (which she didn’t).  

This is a striking debut by Josie Rourke, and she transitions from the stage to screen with encouraging deftness. Her decision to employ colour-blind casting to a period drama, a long-time feature of theatre, gives a modern, cosmopolitan feel to the characters. And the beautiful wide-shots of the Scottish landscape show how she can use the full scope of the medium. The scene in which Mary and Elizabeth finally meet is perhaps the single example of Rourke’s stage sensibility failing to land. They meet in a house filled with sheets hanging from the ceiling, ostensibly to stop them seeing each other but the effect is more annoyance than mystery. You end up things; ‘just tear down the sheets! And is something that would have perhaps been striking on stage but looks silly on screen. Either way, Rourke, along with fantastic central performances from Ronan and Robbie, have created a sensitive, realistic drama about a much-misunderstood figure. 

9/10