Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived. This English nursery rhyme, synonymous with Henry VIII’s rule and the fate of his six wives, has undoubtedly been ingrained in many a child’s memory. And while there have been numerous big- and small-screen takes on the infamous Tudor dynasty, it’s less common for the spotlight to fall on the fascinating lives of his fateful wives.
Enter director Karim Aïnouz’s Firebrand, an adaptation of Elizabeth Fremantle’s novel Queen’s Gambit, a feminist take on this tumultuous and bloody slice of British history. Yet, despite the promise of a film which plays in the sandbox of Tudor history — à la the musical Six — this political drama is a disappointing and muddled take.
“History tells us a few things, mostly about men and war,” the opening titles inform us. “For the rest of humanity, we must draw our own, often wild, conclusions.” You’d be forgiven for thinking a compelling and somewhat scandalous retelling would follow. And yet, Aïnouz never quite elevates his leading lady into a radical icon, seemingly split on whether to document her turbulent and abusive relationship with Henry, her dangerous dynamic with poet and childhood friend Anne Askew (Erin Doherty), or the growing (and often dramatised) conspiracy against her in court led by Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester (Simon Russell Beale). Among the jostling narratives and character arcs, there’s a question mark over whether the director really knows what kind of movie he wants this to be, wrestling with the tone and ballooning subplots.
Disappointingly, Firebrand only really comes to life once Jude Law’s abhorrent Henry VIII returns.
With the backdrop of a divided nation undergoing civil unrest, religious reform and rebellion, the adaptation opens with Katherine meeting the famed Protestant preacher Askew without much context. Screenwriters Jessica and Henrietta Ashworth’s script does little to explore the characters’ shared history, motives and drive, resulting in a lack of meaningful connection either with each other or with the audience. Their cause — to introduce English-translated Bibles into churches so the common public could actually read them — was groundbreaking, but often led to deadly charges of heresy.
As Katherine Parr, Alicia Vikander’s gracefully restrained performance has a quiet resilience, excelling in touching moments with sweet stepson Prince Edward (Patrick Buckley) and the defiant Princess Elizabeth (Junia Rees). But the film glosses over the key fact that she helped improve the King’s relationship with his three (legitimate) children before his demise. Likewise, little time is spotlighted on her own legacy — being one of the first women in England to publish an original work under her own name. With her short appearance in comparison, Doherty’s Anne Askew is surprisingly framed as much more of a feminist revolutionary (and frankly, far more interesting) than Katherine, while Rees’ Elizabeth is greatly elevated in the closing moments.
Disappointingly, Firebrand only really comes to life once Law’s ailing and abhorrent Henry VIII returns to court, bringing a (literal) larger-than-life presence. He often steals scenes with his take on the hedonistic and unpredictable King, complete with a surprising charisma and musicality. Law is afforded a much more nuanced and multi-faceted role, suddenly switching from entertaining to dangerous, with tense and hard-to-watch violent outbursts.
There is much, conversely, that is easy to watch, too: sumptuous costume design from Michael O'Connor (The Duchess, Jane Eyre), Dickon Hinchliffe’s sinister and swelling score — but handsome stylings are not quite enough here.