'Mary Queen Of Scots': Saoirse Ronan & Margot Robbie Are Both Royalty In This Gleefully Feminist Drama [Review]

Despite its ruff collars and Elizabethan English, “Mary Queen of Scots” is no staid, stuffy period drama, as restrained as the breathing of corseted women. Instead, this a vital film, whose lace-trimmed bosom heaves with life. Theater director’s Josie Rourke‘s film debut about the rivalry between Mary Stuart (Saoirse Ronan) and Queen Elizabeth I (Margot Robbie) is unlikely to win over your picky high school history teacher’s heart, but it does bring a sense of immediacy to the lives of these monarchs who died centuries ago.

The film begins in death, showing audiences the moments before Mary’s execution. It’s a scene so gorgeous – thanks to both John Mathieson‘s cinematography and Alexandra Byrne‘s costumes – that it threatens to take our breath away along with Mary’s. Before the ax falls, we rewind to Mary’s return to her native Scotland as its rightful queen after years spent in France. There’s opposition to her rule, both within her own country and from England to the south. She’s a frequent target of sermons by Church of Scotland’s John Knox (a bearded, bewigged and almost unrecognizable David Tennant) for having both a vagina and a devotion to the Catholic church. “We have a scourge upon our land,” he snarls through an unruly curtain of hair. “‘Tis a woman with a crown.”

But it’s Mary’s complex relationship with cousin Queen Elizabeth that ultimately fuels the film. Letters between the two queens reveal a kinship, both in blood and in circumstance, since they’re lone women rulers surrounded by men. Advised by Sir William Cecil (Guy Pearce) and a court of dudes including her beloved Robert Dudley (Joe Alwyn), Elizabeth struggles with how to handle Scotland’s ruler. She repeatedly sends an emissary (Adrian Lester), but tensions mount between both the two countries and the two women as Mary pushes to be acknowledged as an equal.

Beau Willimon adapted the screenplay from John Guy‘s biography “Queen of Scots: The True Life of Mary Stuart,” and it feels like a natural fit for the “House of Cards” writer, in themes, if not in setting. There are certain liberties taken in its historical accuracy but like his Netflix series, Willimon’s “Mary Queen of Scots” is focused on power and the schemes that elevate and unseat those who desire to wield it. However, this film finds its center in specifically exploring women in power and how men react to having to bend the knee to a woman. Short answer: they don’t handle it well. In Willimon’s script, there’s no single villain; instead, it’s most of the men on screen who take turns betraying their respective queens in ways both big and small, as they all clamor for power and position. The two queens can only trust their closest female friends: Elizabeth has her confidant, Bess of Hardwick (Gemma Chan), while Mary has her loyal attendants (Maria Dragus, Eileen O’Higgins, Liah O’Prey). But beyond its praise of female friendship, “Mary Queen of Scots” is so gleefully feminist that you almost expect Mary to emerge from her bedchamber in a “Smash the Patriarchy” t-shirt. Not only are Mary and Elizabeth capable of ruling and capable of (gasp!) going to war, they’re largely better at it than their male counterparts.

Mary and Elizabeth do have their flaws, but there’s rarely been a depiction of these women that is so wholly sympathetic to them both. Mary is the film’s heart, and Ronan’s fiery portrayal (please give her a fourth Oscar nomination before her 25th birthday, thank you) makes it impossible for the audience not to want to pledge their fealty to her. But despite the film largely focusing on the Scottish queen and centralizing of her narrative, “Mary Queen of Scots” refuses to villainize Elizabeth either. Robbie is often under elaborate wigs and layers of makeup, but her Elizabeth is always ultimately human, alternately brittle and bold.

Rourke refuses to stick to the boundaries of her background in theater. Instead, she never hesitates to show her actors and their performances in unsparing close-ups, and she has a particular flair for the scale of various settings, both inside and outside. There are some minor pacing and structural issues, particularly in penultimate scenes that skip ahead to the end like Harry Burns with a novel, but this biography builds to a finale that is entirely compelling, despite our knowledge of where it goes. “Mary Queen of Scots” couldn’t be more my jam if it were topping fresh-baked bread with cultured butter. [A-]