MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS: Blu-ray (Universal, 1971) Kino Lorber

Producer, Hal B. Wallis was at it again, hoping for another Elizabethan crowd-pleaser with director, Charles Jarrott’s Mary, Queen of Scots (1971); a prestige picture, starring two of Hollywood’s heaviest hitters – Glenda Jackson and Vanessa Redgrave, as Elizabeth I and the eponymous title character respectively. Although the movie, as scripted by John Hale, divides its time – mostly - between the palace intrigues leading up to the devastating execution of Mary, it also suggests two chance meetings between these feuding and formidable monarchs that never actually happened in real life, the ballast squarely situated on endlessly debate and strategizing with a selected cohort of their courtiers and confidants. The results, alas, proved no Anne of a Thousand Days (1969) – that ‘other’ prestige project to have come off with exceptional panache and good solid box office two years before. In hindsight, Mary, Queen of Scots appears as the victim of more bad timing than bad press. For although the critics were hardly engaged, the same audiences who flocked to ‘Anne’ now gave ‘Mary’ the cold shoulder. For Wallis, it was a bitter pill to swallow, his penultimate project as producer extraordinaire, in a career, literally to span the girth of golden age Hollywood, bringing forth some of its most legendary movies. Although no one could fault the script, the performances, or, indeed, the impeccable production values (the picture made spectacular use of its locations in France (Château de Chenonceau), Scotland (Hermitage Castle), and England (Alnwick, and, Bamburgh Castles, Parham Park, Chiltern Open Air Museum in Buckinghamshire), wed to some gorgeous production design and art direction by Terence Marsh and Robert Cartwright at Shepperton Studios, Mary, Queen of Scots stubbornly refused to come to life. Viewed today, the picture undeniably looks good. More than that, and distinctly to live up to its first impressions as a prestige pic.

In the role of Elizabeth, originally slated for Geneviève Bujold – then, Sophia Loren after Bujold turned it down, Glenda Jackson proved a formidable replacement. Jackson had originally been offered the part of Mary; the decision to migrate her over to the throne of England, necessitating consideration for a new star to wear the ‘other’ crown. And thus, the part fell to Vanessa Redgrave, who creates one of the most marvelous characterizations of her entire career, running the gamut of emotions from green girl, prematurely widowed, to a sober and introspective woman of rare qualities. Mary, Queen of Scots is, perhaps, deceptively titled as the movie pretty much divides its ample run time between the political brouhaha inveigling Mary and Elizabeth, gradually narrowing their great divide to draw them nearer – if not closer – to their respective ambitions, and tragically, to end with the devastating loss of one monarch at the hands of the other.  A lot of production value, but seemingly precious little heart has gone into Mary, Queen of Scots; a picture of considerable artistry that, curiously, never rises above its superficially embalmed period costume sheen. And while Jackson and Redgrave do their utmost – along with a stellar roster of English thespians in support (every stalwart of the old home guard is on tap here, from the eloquent, Trevor Howard to fiery, Nigel Davenport, with honorable mention to the recently departed, Ian Holm and incredible, Daniel Massey), what emerges is more of an exercise than an entertainment. More on all four actors, in just a moment.

In their attempted history, Wallis, Jarrott and Hale have taken certain artistic liberties meant, I suspect, to whip into a frenzy the duller pages from the record into an intimate melodrama. Yet, often, this creative license blunts the picture’s overall impact, while miring history itself in half-truths. Worse, the predicament faced by Redgrave and Jackson – how best to satisfy history and audiences in one fell swoop of histrionics, is never entirely without its grim repercussions. And thus, the finale to this exercise ends with an introspective whimper rather than a clash of crossed swords and spectacular bloodshed. Contrasting Redgrave’s noble Mary, as the finely wrought intellectual, pitted against Jackson’s Elizabeth, herein represented as perfectly vial and enterprising, there is some undeniably fascinating ‘ying’ in Jackson’s venom to Redgrave’s empathetic ‘yang’. This helps as a set-up for two fictional and barb-laden exchanges between these fascinating figures from history. And indeed, Jackson had already played the English monarch to perfection in the BBC’s mini-series, Elizabeth R (1971). But the end result here never quite satisfies beyond the peripheries of rank Hollywood-ized melodrama, and occasionally, not even by those base standards either. It’s odd too, because the supporting cast, hand-picked by Wallis reads like a who’s who of ‘national treasures’ from days of yore. Daniel Massey, who hails from an enviable actor’s dynasty (his father, was renown Canadian actor, Raymond Massey, his godfather, none other than Brit-wit and bon vivant, Noel Coward) is superb as Elizabeth’s lover, Robert Dudley. Trevor Howard, whose enviable career dated all the way back to 1945’s iconic romance, Brief Encounter, is exquisitely empathetic as the stiff-britches, William Cecil, while Nigel Davenport lends caustic and commanding presence to Lord Bothwell. Ian Holm, who recently left us, age 88, illustrates the first signs of his formidable acting prowess as David Riccio. Two other names worth noting here: Timothy Dalton, as the impetuous and syphilis-ridden, Henry - Lord Darnley, and, steely-eyed Patrick McGoohan, as James Stuart. Virtually all of the aforementioned take the proverbial ‘backseat’ to what is essentially a battle royale between two women given in to their full flourish as competing jealousies are unfurled.

Mary, Queen of Scots, opens with a gorgeous main title sequence, set to composer, Maurice Jarre’s melodic strains and photographed through heavy gauze on the grounds of the Château de Chenonceau. Mary and her husband, King Francis II (Richard Denning) are supremely in love; a passion, tragically short-lived when Francis, barely seventeen months on the throne, suddenly dies of an ear infection. Devastated over his loss, Mary retreats to her native land. Though intrepid and selfless, Mary is almost immediately presented with several grave challenges. In her absence from Scotland, the Protestant faith has been embraced by many nobles. The Catholic Mary also must contend with a Protestant half-brother, James Stuart and his desires to rule in her stead. Stuart infers affairs of the state need not concern Mary. Instead, she should seek her pleasures outside the political sphere. Indeed, Stuart plots to rule Scotland as the man behind the throne, using Mary as his figurehead. Meanwhile, gravely concerned Mary’s own endeavors are conspiring to overthrow England, Elizabeth I plots to weaken her claim by sending the wily, Robert Dudley to seduce and wed the rebel. Elizabeth further promises to make Mary her heir, should she agree to this marriage. At the same instance, Elizabeth deploys the handsome, though ineffectual and spoiled, Lord Darnley to tempt Mary into marrying him.  Rather impulsively, Mary chooses Darnley over Dudley.  Stuart vehemently opposes the marriage. Forced to choose between her heart and half-brother, Mary exiles Stuart to strengthen her authority as Queen. Believing Mary’s hasty passions will keep her embroiled in romantic misfortunes, Elizabeth breathes a momentary sigh of relief at having secured her throne.

Mary’s marriage to Darnley briefly bears this out as he grows impatient and frequently fights with his new bride over his lack of authority at court. In response, Mary banishes her husband from her bed and, increasingly, relies on the counsel and advice of the genial Italian courtier, David Riccio. Darnley, who previously possessed Riccio as his lover, now accuses him of having sired a child by the Queen. Armed with this falsehood, a band of Scottish noblemen goad Darnley into a murder plot against Riccio, successfully carried out in Mary’s presence. Only now, Mary convinces her husband the plotters are colluding next against him. Together, they flee to Lord Bothwell’s estate. In rapid succession, Bothwell – loyal to Mary – rids the kingdom of these usurpers to the throne. In the meantime, Mary gives birth to James – the heir apparent who will succeed her, but also rule over England as Elizabeth is unmarried and childless. Once more, this peaceful détente is thwarted by Darnley, still power-mad, though now, grotesquely disfigured and dying of syphilis. Mary takes pity on her husband. Alas, she is more attracted to Bothwell. Mary and Stuart plot to have Darnley die from a gunpowder explosion at his home. Instead, Darnley survives the blast, and, is strangled by Bothwell, who weds Mary. For the briefest of moments, the couple are contented. Alas, Stuart leads a rebellion against Mary, forcing her abdication and exile to England, and Bothwell, to Denmark. Mary's son, James is crowned King while Stuart rules effectively, rearing the boy as a Protestant.

Mary pleads with Elizabeth for the resources to stage a palace coup and regain her throne. Instead, Elizabeth imprisons Mary in a remote castle, much to the consternation of Sir William Cecil who wisely deduces the nation must be governed by only one monarch. Indeed, Elizabeth’s anxiety over Mary mounts, despite her hesitations in putting an anointed monarch to death. Besides, such a decision will certainly fan the flames of rebellion amongst her own Catholic subjects, as well as create a rift in her tenuous alliances with France and Spain. Destined to remain in this open-ended captivity, Mary settles into her enforced leisure and seclusion, indulging in card games, embroidery and gossip. With Walsingham’s (Richard Warner) aid, Cecil unearths a conspiracy involving Mary to assassinate Elizabeth. Deeply wounded by this revelation, Elizabeth confronts her arch nemesis. Forced into a corner, Mary rediscovers her pride and refuses to back down during their clandestine meeting. Although Elizabeth offers mercy, Mary refuses to beg for it in public. Instead, she endures her sham trial and conviction, executed for sedition, yet going to her grave knowing James will ultimately succeed to the English throne.

The last act to Mary, Queen of Scots is also its most compelling; Redgrave and Jackson pulling out all the stops for their venomous battle royale. Mary’s ultimate betrayal and foregone conclusion are lent a queer and unsettling lack of formality. The fictional exchange to have occurred between Mary and Elizabeth is therefore a far more intimate affair, memorably to flesh out the stubborn resolve between women – hardly, a ceremonial altercation amid feuding queens. This creates dramatic friction the rest of the movie awkwardly lacks. The machinations leading up to this moment are all expertly played, and even more intriguingly photographed with a plush stateliness by cinematographer, Christopher Challis. But the results suffer from too much luxuriating splendor and not enough dramatic intensity. The vignettes, as scripted, are more of an animated wax works, merely played in hollow pantomime, the characters, positioned as chess pieces on a great historical framework – occasionally taken ‘out of context’ and further reinterpreted by the film’s own artistic license. It is difficult to fault Mary, Queen of Scots as a bad movie, because so much of it has been afforded the utmost care to ensure a classic, as opposed to a clunker, emerges from beneath the high-collared Elizabethan crinolines and lace. And, if not to be considered a bona fide ‘turkey’, then the picture nevertheless falls considerably short of that loftier mark as one for the ages.

Mary, Queen of Scots arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s alliance with Universal Home Video. Predictably, Uni has done nothing substantial to ready this flick for its hi-def debut. Although the image fairs marginally better than that offered on Wallis’ infinitely more entertaining, Anne of the Thousand Days, Mary, Queen of Scots is marred by an older image harvest. Colors are wan and overall image clarity here belies the fact this was a 70mm feature. Likely, the elements here have been culled from 35mm reduction prints. Colors are just so-so, with no real depth or saturation beyond, merely acceptable. Contrast is middling at best, and fine details rarely pop as they should. Age-related artifacts are present throughout, but do not distract on the whole. We also have some residual image instability, plus an artificial amplification of grain, never entirely looking indigenous to its source. The 2.0 DTS audio is infinitely more satisfying than the visuals. Kino has shelled out for a new audio commentary by critic/historian, Sergio Mims. However, Mims offers one of the most inadequate and stuffy academic readings ever – prone to pregnant pauses, mis-information and a flighty disregard for telling one back story at a time. We can actually here him turning the pages of his notes. But his delivery of information, gleaned from the most rudimentary sources, is dull. We also get an isolated score with commentary from Nick Redman and Jon Burlingame, suggesting this one was perhaps originally slated for a Twilight Time release before Mr. Redman’s untimely demise. The only other extra is a badly worn theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Mary, Queen of Scots is a lavishly appointed, but otherwise slightly stilted return to Elizabethan antiquity. A better 1080p transfer might have improved my viewing experience. But what’s here is more of Universal’s short-sightedness where its own back catalog is concerned. Disappointing, actually. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

2