Elena Woodacre posits that monarchy is ‘seen by many as an outdated institution, a relic of the past even, and therefore somehow backward looking to focus on’.[1] Whilst Woodacre’s argument seeks to question the progressiveness of historical films depicting early modern royalty, this essay will argue that representations of the monarchy are in fact effective mediums by which to interpret and apprehend the current socio-political climate; the experiences of modern women living within undemocratic societies. In doing so, this paper will consider the following questions:

1. In what ways does the negation of historicity evident in the post-heritage genre allow for an engagement with gender, power, and femininity?

2. To what extent does the portrayal of early modern queenship in Mary Queen of Scots and The Favourite mobilise an ideology in the present? How do the directors’ approaches differ to previous media representations?[2] [3]

The nature of this analysis therefore demands an understanding of post-heritage genre, outlined by Alex Lykidis as ‘self-conscious and critical portrayals of the past and often focus on queer sexuality and gender fluidity. It is associated with performative, reflexive, or ironic portrayals of identity and with (…) postmodernism.’[4] Each text will be analysed in regard to this definition; understanding how filmic depictions of early modern monarchs provide apt cinematic space for discussions of gender, femininity, and power to reflect the contemporary situation.

Mary Queen of Scots, directed by Josie Rourke and released in 2018, functions as the first case study for this essay and serves as a commentary on the authority of Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots as female rulers.[5] Rourke possesses a background in theatre production, including adaptations of Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure and As You Like It; characterised by a manipulation of traditional gender roles, modernising classic texts to produce a commentary on the state of Western civilisation. Released at a time when intersectional feminism was garnering attention within filmic discourse, influenced by the emergence of the #MeToo movement and subsequent launch of the Time’s Up initiative, Mary Queen of Scots demonstrates cohesion with Rourke’s theatrical work through engagement with issues in queer and gender debates. Prior to engaging in a close textual analysis and comparison of the texts, previous media representations of the early modern monarchs must be engaged with in order to understand how the films invoke a vindictive portrayal of the queens; creating a filmic space for interpretations of the twenty-first century female experience. Contrary to the 1971 film directed by Charles Jarrott, Rourke’s contribution to the filmic history of Mary omits scenes depicting her childhood and upbringing in France.[6] Jarrott’s film coincides with the advent of second-wave feminism, echoing the psychoanalytical framework employed by feminist film theorists during this time; reflecting a zeitgeist in which ‘women were asking serious questions about their role in both the home and the workplace while pondering whether they could truly have the best of both worlds’.[7]

Subverting such psychoanalytical interpretations and rejecting misogynistic Freudian theory, Rourke’s film employs a circular narrative beginning with Mary (Saoirse Ronan) on the morning of her execution. Almost the entire film is portrayed through flashback after this scene, the first of which being Mary’s arrival in Scotland in August 1561, following the death of her husband and King of France, Francis II. The decision to begin the film with the protagonist’s death is highly subversive, seeking to acknowledge the event which rendered Mary a poignant figure in British history. Whilst Mary had no agency in the occasion of her death, Rourke frames her execution in a manner that positions Mary as responsible for its historical significance; the real spectacle is rendered in Mary’s actions moments before her death. As in real life, Mary instructs her ladies-in-waiting (The Four Marys) to remove her black dress, revealing undergarments the colour of Catholic martyrdom – crimson red.[8] Wide shots juxtapose Mary with the crowds of men adorning black suits, seeking to plant blame on the patriarchy for her downfall. This contempt for the white male agenda is embodied within the character of John Knox (David Tennant), who proudly states: ‘Worse than pustulous and famine, is a woman with a crown’, dictating the film as outwardly and unabashedly feminist in criticising the patriarchy; suggesting men view women in power as the greatest threat to society.

Through the use of costume, production design and framing, Rourke avoids the glorification of violence inflicted upon women. Thus, representations of Mary by Rourke are positioned in contention with the short film produced by the Edison Company in 1895, titled The Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots.[9] The choice to introduce Mary to the silver screen through a re-enactment of her death renders the act a spectacle and, in turn, presents Mary as little more than a victim; perpetuating violence on women as justified and supporting the idea that, ‘Fascination with the Queen of Scots generally begins with the tragic circumstances of her downfall and death’.[10] Aligning with Rourke’s interpretation, the representation of such violence is avoided in Mary of Scotland, directed by John Ford, and released in 1936 as an adaptation of Maxwell Anderson’s play of the same name.[11] The film is evidently a product of classical Hollywood cinema; starring Katharine Hepburn as Mary and distributed by RKO Radio Pictures. The feature-length format of the film allows for an in-depth retelling of Mary’s imprisonment under Elizabeth, characterising Mary as a wronged martyr, and rendering the latter queen as a historical villain. Whilst Mary’s beheading is not depicted on-screen, an emphatic score, long-take shots and pathetic fallacy are employed to dramatize the event as she ascends towards the foreground of the frame. Nevertheless, the film is framed as an epic historical romance, trading historical objectivity for melodrama in its depiction of Lord Bothwell, Mary’s third husband, as an amorous hero, serving as a reminder that Ford’s film ‘when men were still viewed as the romantic protectors of their ladies and traditional roles were still preferred’.[12] Ronan’s Mary, by comparison, is a sexually liberated woman surrounded by a solid group of women, capable of dictating who she marries and engages in sexual relations with; presenting her as starkly different from previous media portrayals of the queen whilst likening her to the twenty-first century woman.

However, the varying portrayals of Mary are cohesive in the filmmakers’ ‘own fictional encounters between Mary and Elizabeth’ to compensate for the fact the two iconic figures never met in person’, a recurring motif of films centring on the Scottish queen.[13] In building this climax, Rourke positions the queens as equals, rather than rivals, through parallel editing that places their reigns in direct contrast to showcase the patriarchal struggles each faced throughout her time on the throne. The meeting scene totals 10 minutes in length, combining handheld subjective shots with smooth tracking camerawork and soft lighting, as the queens weave through translucent sheets shielding one another from view; the lack of score renders the mise-en-scene exquisitely intimate and steeped in tension. As Mary finally tears one of the sheets down to reveal her cousin, decorated in her iconic pale makeup and bright orange wig, the scene descends into an emotional, affecting duologue as the pair gaze intently at one another; a stand-off between two assertive women that evokes discourse surrounding the cost of feminine power. The scene is encoded with homoeroticism, echoing the short film Meeting of Two Queens, created by Cecilia Barriga in 1991. The film uses archive footage of two classical film stars, Marlene Dietrich, and Greta Garbo, to construct a queer-coded narrative through a montage of classic Hollywood motifs.[14] Despite being wildly different in both format and genre, Mary Queen of Scots and Meeting of Two Queens are similar in their manipulation of historicity and use of stardom to convey a story. As a result of this intertextuality, Rourke demonstrates how Mary and Elizabeth’s relationship subverts the hero vs. villain dichotomy, instead constituting a complicated dynamic between two women hankering for power. Further examples of homoeroticism in Rourke’s narrative include Lord Darnley (Jack Lowden) and Rizzio’s (Ismael Cruz Córdova) mythologised relationship. Following Mary’s marriage to Darnley, Lowden’s character is depicted intoxicated and flirting with Rizzio during the festivities, staying true to historical interpretations of Darnley as a philanderer; a hard cut depicts the pair lying naked together in bed. Thus, Rourke’s portrayal rejects the need for violence towards women and constitutes a reconstruction of national identity based on recreating a vision of the past, criticising the patriarchal oppression of women through a reflection of the emerging queer discourse within intersectional feminism.

Like Elizabeth I and the Tudors, Anne, Queen of Britain was ‘the last scion of a once powerful dynasty’.[15] It is therefore apt, that the second case study for this essay is Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite; chronicling the life of the final remaining Stuart. Queen Anne reigned throughout the 1700s, rendering the memory of the monarch in ‘school textbooks, previous media texts and the viewing of famous period portraits.’[16] Although, unlike Mary, Anne has scarcely been depicted on-screen within contemporary media, notable is Peter Bull’s portrayal of the monarch in the 1983 comedy Yellowbeard. Casting a male actor to portray the monarch perpetuates popular interpretations of Anne as a backseat monarch; an unpleasant, senile woman who is overpowered by her adviser. Bull adorned drag makeup and clothing, evoking disgust and inviting the viewer to ridicule the queen as a mere product of comedic relief for male spectatorship.[17] As Mary Queen of Scots forms a study of the power struggle between cousins Mary and Elizabeth striving for the throne, the plot of The Favourite examines the relationship between cousins Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz) and Abigail Masham (Emma Stone) as they grapple for the affections and approval of Queen Anne (Olivia Colman). Through genre hybridity, unconventional cinematography and gothic themes, Lanthimos provides Queen Anne with vindication, constructing a narrative that establishes her place in history as an intriguing, formidable queer woman in power. This aligns with Ilia Ryzhenko’s proposed correlation between the historical film’s preoccupation with theatricality and a re-imagining of the past that forefronts ‘the history of oppression of queer women and their exclusion from history’.[18] The Favourite centres on the events of 1711, when Great Britain was at war with France; providing a backdrop of political upheaval and public unrest for the depiction of queer female characters in private spaces. Cinematographer Robbie Ryan seeks to highlight the inordinate nature of Anne’s lavish royal residence through long tracking shots of characters, diagonal compositions, fish-eye lenses; evident pictorialism and denaturalisation of narrative space.[19] Thus, Lanthimos’s directorial influence exemplifies an incorporation of gothic themes, juxtaposing such opulent settings with the film’s satirical tone and use of black comedy to perpetuate ‘a tension between the surface of visual splendour and the liberal messages.’[20] In contrast to the long shots comprised of asymmetrical compositions, disruptions of scale and perspective are employed during intimate scenes between the three female leads. Tight framing is heavily used during scenes in which Anne resides in bed, usually suffering from a painful plight of gout, or receiving sexual favours from Abigail or Sarah, demonstrating a commingling of pain and pleasure in private and public spaces. Close-up shots also serve to forefront the depiction of female pleasure in Mary Queen of Scots as the camera lingers on Mary’s face, relishing in the cunnilingus she receives from Lord Darnley. The depiction of queer women in this same manner, unabashedly enjoying sex, renders The Favourite a radical, unapologetic interpretation of intersectional feminism.[21]

However, Anne’s position as female ruler renders the relationship between politics and sexuality is intrinsically linked. The film ends with a low angle shot of Anne looking down upon Abigail as she rubs her feet, demonstrating that, whilst she ultimately emerges as the ‘favourite’, ultimate power and control lies with the queen. Queer female sexuality is therefore intertwined with a neoliberal Gothicism that seeks to criticise the ‘dysfunctional relationships that result from authoritarian social arrangements’, evident within the absolutism of early modern monarchs.[22] It is particularly poignant that Abigail character arc ends with her as the ‘favourite’ as her extensive screen-time, depiction through close-up and her arrival at the beginning of the narrative embody the gothic trope of the ‘parasitical guest’; serving as an apt metaphor for the neoliberal order.[23] A feminist reading of The Favourite therefore becomes entrenched in such politics, suggesting Lanthimos primarily engages with gender, femininity and power for the purpose of critiquing autocratic rule, rather than representing the discrimination faced by women in undemocratic societies.

Along with depictions of female pleasure, Rourke’s film demonstrates an economic synergy of television, film and theatre that constitute the aesthetic of the heritage genre.[24] In the final scene, as Mary prepares for her execution, a mid-shot of Elizabeth depicts her breaking the fourth wall, revealing her looking down upon the viewer as she is remembered in collective memory: her ailments disguised beneath a heavy mask of white makeup. The incorporation of this shot pays homage to the period portraits encapsulating her legacy, as well as the 1998 film Elizabeth, starring Cate Blanchett as the titular queen; marking ‘the moment at which Elizabeth became historical’.[25] As Blanchett advances towards the camera, staring into the lens, Robbie similarly turns to acknowledge the audience; an apt tribute considering the baroque mixture of styles deployed by director Shekhar Kapur, marking the ‘end’ of the classical heritage film.[26] Use of intertextuality by Rourke conforms to Belén Vidal’s interpretation of heritage space as a contradiction between form and narrative, in which representations of the past are displayed as a ‘visually spectacular pastiche’.[27] [28] Such is true for Rourke’s film, which favours style over substance, employing expansive shots of British landscapes, highly stylised battle sequences and colour-blind casting. A tradition that hails from Rourke’s previous work in theatre, actors Gemma Chan and Adrian Lester were cast to play characters who were white in real life. Here, the influence of bell hooks’s pioneering work on intersectional feminism is evident, highlighting the interrelatedness of sexist oppression with racism, classicism and sexualism.[29] Engagement with such ideas demonstrate that Rourke’s film does not strive for historicity, but rather the effective re-telling of the life of a well-known figure that reflects the current socio-political climate.[30]

In doing so, Saoirse Ronan embodies the role of the titular character. A brief glance at Ronan’s filmography– including Brooklyn, On Chesil Beach and Lady Bird - provides understanding for such casting and the rendering of Mary Stuart as a youthful ‘underdog’ woman who faces an envious cousin, misogynistic rivals and a court stained with scandal.[31] The historical figure’s rise to the throne mimics Ronan’s own rise to fame, garnering an alignment with the youthful queen reliant on filmic knowledge. By comparison, and as considered previously, Robbie’s casting as Elizabeth serves to govern empathy for the queen as a much-loved Hollywood actor. However, considering Robbie’s filmography in line with Andre Bazin’s definition of ‘miscasting’, there seems to be no obvious fit between the actor and character. As discussed by Jean-Louis Comolli, unexpected casting risks ‘a regime of lesser pleasure, if the character is taken as given’.[32] Thus, make-up artist Jenny Shircore – who had previously worked on Elizabeth - was tasked with transforming Robbie into the iconic historical figure; utilising heavy layers of prosthetic makeup to disguise the actor’s distinctive features. Such artistry is paired with ‘scenes of ritualistic masking and unmasking’ to aid the viewer in suspending their disbelief, whilst ensuring the performer remains recognisable; a paradox which ‘fuels and reignites our desire to believe’.[33] This motif of the heritage style is prominent in scenes starring Robbie’s Elizabeth, creating an air of mystery, and mythologising the queen. Much of this masking is rendered in John Mathieson’s camerawork, with the viewer’s first introduction to the monarch constituting a partial view of Elizabeth’s face through a stained-glass window. The extensive construction of this mask by Mathieson and Shircore reflects the scrutiny brought to Elizabeth’s body as an unmarried woman, which incarnated the body politic of English kinship and ‘ensured that gender and sexuality were foregrounded in representing the Elizabethan state’.[34] Rourke stays true to this interpretation, employing techniques of masking and unmasking to construct a nuanced, progressive representation of Elizabeth, as a woman confidently maintaining power whilst battling illness and insecurity; governed by the dichotomy of public vs. private life. Elizabeth’s character arc heavily reflecting the experience of the modern woman; expected to maintain work-life balance whilst navigating the regressive body politics inherent in mainstream media.

Meanwhile, Lanthimos’ employment of casting and performance aligns with Comolli’s argument that the historical film genre banks on ‘the memory the spectator has of that historical body (…) all that needs to be done is to cobble together a resemblance’.[35] The film’s setting and Queen Anne’s role as an early modern monarch exist outside of recent collective memory, prompting creative freedom in achieving a recognisable imitation of the monarch’s ‘historical body’. In an interview with British Vogue, hair and makeup artist Nadia Stacey affirms this ‘free rein’ approach to the film’s design, stating that ‘the silhouettes tended to be true to the period, but we played around with the colours.’[36] Whilst the style of the costumes and the film’s on-location shoots, including Hampton Court Palace, constitute a resemblance of the 1700s, Lanthimos’ directorial style stands at odds with this historicity. Aesthetic exaggeration – previously discussed in relation to the cinematography - and period-inappropriate elements indicate a re-interpreting of the past and negation of ‘the historical claim to objectivity’ that establishes the film as entirely post-heritage.[37] This is evident from the opening scene, in which Anne demands that Sarah Churchill – as her current adviser, lover and favourite - pet her rabbits. The 17 rabbits serve as surrogates for the children Anne lost through miscarriage and stillbirth: displaying a rejection of historical objectivity in favour of form, again echoing Higson’s idea of heritage films as ‘visually spectacular pastiche’.[38]

Furthering this, whilst Rourke simply incorporates Elizabeth’s illness as a plot device, Lanthimos fixates on Queen Anne’s suffering with gout, conforming to the idea that ‘depictions of Queen Anne have always fixated on her body’.[39] The Favourite exemplifies this from the film’s outset, portraying the monarch’s body ‘the centre and object of the scene, by displaying it in all states’.[40] The most prominent example is the abject status of the central character, lying in bed as her inflamed, secreting legs are dressed with raw meat. Such fixation on the female body, and that body’s relationship with other women is inherently feminist; negating the concept of the phallocentric, which posits that the male sexual organ is the central element in the organisation of the social world.[41] In rendering this critique of the neoliberalist and patriarchal agendas palatable for a mainstream audience, Lanthimos incites the image of the grotesque woman. Paired with the excessive make-up and grimaces of the male aristocrats, Anne’s characterisation as an object of sexual desire despite her body’s abjection, destabilises the idealisation of female beauty and realigns ‘the mechanism of desire’.[42] Olivia Colman’s carnivalesque embodiment of the early modern monarch harks back to her earlier, more comedic roles, subverting hegemony, and patriarchal expectations of women through ‘inversion, mockery and degradation’.[43]

In comparison, Rourke deals with the grotesque through rendering the film as ‘work of abjection’, seeking to tackle the stigma surrounding menstruation through a close-up of a bloodstain on Mary’s nightdress, for example.[44] Whilst foreboding the ensuing danger and violence that threatens Mary’s position of power, the depiction of menstrual blood establishes the strong themes of motherhood throughout the film and forefronts the urgent patriarchal expectation of the queens to produce a successor. This is furthered through parallel editing, as slow-motion shots of Mary giving birth are intercut with Elizabeth creating paper flowers.[45] Match-on-action shots and parallel editing depict Mary post-partum, laying with her legs open as her own blood surrounds her; Elizabeth does the same, substituting paper flowers for her lack of an heir. The depiction of the feminine body and its wastes throughout Mary Queen of Scots and The Favourite allow for a disturbance of identity, system and order that is inherent to works of abjection and the postmodern film.[46] Thereby, the directors create cinematic space for feminist redefinition through liminality and a transgression of the sex-gender paradigm.[47]

To conclude, it is evident that the cinematic historiography of Mary, Queen of Scots, and Queen Anne shifts to ‘accommodate changing times and perspectives’.[48] Whilst the filmic manipulation of historicity is criticised, the post-heritage film provides the opportunity for women to reclaim their rightful space onscreen through revisionist narratives and pastiche; providing vindication for early modern queens and the contemporary women they seek to represent through riveting stories of betrayal, power, and sex. The rendering of feminist issues in bygone eras allows for a direct confrontation of the historical oppression of women and an understanding of the current socio-political climate, influenced by intersectional feminism. This is evident in both texts, which employ themes of female pleasure, pain, and autonomy, as well as the cost of power. Whilst Mary Queen of Scots is much more overtly feminist as a representation of strong-willed women on the throne by a female director, Lanthimos employs black comedy, theatricality, and unconventional camerawork to create an undoubtedly, postmodernist re-imagining of Queen Anne’s latter years of reign; presenting a satirical critique of autocracy embellished in a vindictive story of queer women throughout history.

Bibliography

Babilas, Dorota. “From Britain’s Most Unloved Queen to the Favourite?”  in From Queen

Anne to Queen Victoria (Vol. 7), edited by Emma Harris and Grażyna Bystydzieńska. Warsaw: University of Warsaw, 2021.

Bahr, Lindsey. “’Mary, Queen of Scots’ gets a modern twist.” The Columbian, December 14, 2018. https://www.columbian.com/news/2018/dec/14/mary-queen-of-scots-gets-modern-twist/.

Comolli, Jean-Louis. “Historical Fiction: A Body Too Much.” Screen 19, no. 2 (Summer 1978), 41-54. https://doi.org/10.1093/screen/19.2.41.

Connell, Katherine. “The Precarious Politics of Yorgos Lanthimos’s ‘The Favourite’.” Another Gaze, March 6, 2019. https://www.anothergaze.com/precarious-politics-yorgos-lanthimoss-favourite-feminist-queer-lesbian/.

Creed, Barbara. The Monstrous-Feminine: Film, feminism, psychoanalysis. London; New York: Routledge, 1993.

Culpepper, Scott. “Long May She Reign: Portrayals and Interpretations of Mary, Queen of Scots, in Popular Media”. Dordt University, 2014.

Gilchrist, Tracey. “The Favourite’s Unapolagetic Depiction of Queer Female Sexuality Is an Oscars First.” Advocate, February 24, 2019. https://www.advocate.com/commentary/2019/2/24/favourites-unapologetic-queer-female-sexuality-oscars-first.

Higson, Andrew “Re-presenting the past: Nostalgia and Pastiche in the Heritage film.” In Fires Were Started: British Cinema and Thatcherism, edited by Lester Friedman. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993.

hooks, bell. Feminist theory from margin to center. Boston: South End Press, 1984.

Jones, Nate. “How Historically Accurate Are the Wokest Parts of Mary Queen of Scots?” Vulture. December 10, 2018. https://www.vulture.com/2018/12/mary-queen-of-scots-movie-its-woke-but-is-it-accurate.html.

Kristeva, Julia. Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection. Translated by Leon S. Roudiez. New York: Columbia University Press, 1982.

Lydikis, Alex. “Rethinking the Heritage Film: Gothic Critique” in The Cinema of Yorgos Lanthimos: Films, Form, Philosophy. Edited by Eddie Falvey. London: Babylon, 2022.

McKechnie, Kara. “Taking liberties with the monarch: with the monarch: the royal biopic in the 1990s” in British Historical Cinema: The History, Heritage and Costume Film, edited by Claire Monk and Amy Sargeant. London: Routledge, 2002.

McLees-Frazier, Heather Armstrong. “The Image of Woman’s Authority: Representations of Elizabeth I in Portrait and Film.” MA diss., College of William & Mary, 2009.

Montrose, Louis. The Subject of Elizabeth: Authority, Gender and Representation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006.

Niven-Phillips. “The Favourite’s Hair and Make-up Artist Talks Wigs, Badger Make-up and Bending the Rules.” British Vogue. February 2, 2019. https://www.vogue.co.uk/article/the-favourite-wigs-and-makeup-nadia-stacey.

Russo, Mary. The Female Grotesque: Risk, excess and modernity. New York: Routledge, 1997.

Ryzhenko, Ilia. “Cinematic Theatricality, Queer Anachronism and the Favourite.” Screen 63, no. 3 (2022): 346–66. https://doi.org/10.1093/screen/hjac028.

Vidal, Belén, “The British Heritage Film: Nation and Representation,” in Heritage Film. Nation, Genre and Representation. London: Wallflower, 2012, 7-51.

‌Watt, Graham. “Film Review: Mary Queen of Scots: In My End Is My Beginning.” British Journal of General Practice 69, no. 685 (2019): 400. https://doi.org/10.3399/bjgp19x704885.

Woodacre, Elena. Queens and Queenship. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2021.

Yoshida, Emily. “Mary Queen of Scots Turns Its Queen into a Generic Underdog Figure.” Vulture. December 6, 2018. https://www.vulture.com/2018/12/mary-queen-of-scots-review.html.

Filmography

Brooklyn. Directed by John Crowley. UK: Lionsgate UK, 2015. Sky Cinema.

Elizabeth. Directed by Shekhar Kapur. UK: Gramercy Picture, 1998, Prime Video.

Lady Bird. Directed by Greta Gerwig. UK: Warner Home Video, 2017. DVD

Mary of Scotland. Directed by John Ford. USA: RKO Pictures. 1936. YouTube

Mary Queen of Scots. Directed by Josie Rourke. USA: Universal Pictures, 2018. BBC iPlayer.

Mary, Queen of Scots. Directed by Charles Jarrott. USA: Universal Pictures, 1971. DVD.

Meeting of Two Queens. Directed by Cecilia Barriga. 1991. YouTube.

On Chesil Beach. Directed by Dominic Cooke. UK: Lionsgate Home Entertainment, 2018. DVD.

The Favourite. Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos. USA: Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2018. DVD.

Yellowbeard. Directed by Mel Damski. UK: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1983. Prime Video.

[1] Elena Woodacre, Queens and Queenship (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2021).

[2] Mary Queen of Scots, DVD, directed by Josie Rourke (2018; USA: Universal Pictures, 2018).

[3] The Favourite, DVD, directed by Yorgos Lanthimos (2018; USA: Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2018).

[4] Alex Lydikis, “Rethinking the Heritage Film: Gothic Critique” in The Cinema of Yorgos Lanthimos: Films, Form, Philosophy, ed. Eddie Falvey (London: Babylon, 2022), 199-200.

[5] Heather Armstrong McLees-Frazier, “The Image of Woman’s Authority: Representations of Elizabeth I in Portrait and Film” (MA diss., College of William & Mary, 2009).

[6] Mary, Queen of Scots, DVD, directed by Charles Jarrott (1971; USA: Universal Pictures, 1971)

[7] Scott Culpepper, “Long May She Reign: Portrayals and Interpretations of Mary, Queen of Scots, in Popular Media” (Dordt University, 2014).

[8] Graham Watt, “Film Review: Mary Queen of Scots: In My End Is My Beginning,” British Journal of General Practice 69, no. 685 (2019): 400, https://doi.org/10.3399/bjgp19x704885.

[9] The Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, YouTube, directed by Alfred Clark (2009; USA: Edison Studios, 1895)

[10] Scott Culpepper, “Long May She Reign”, 5.

[11] Mary of Scotland, YouTube, directed by John Ford (2021; USA: RKO Pictures, 1936).

[12] Culpepper, “Long May She Reign”, 5.

[13] Culpepper, “Long May She Reign”, 5

[14] Meeting of Two Queens, Kanopy, directed by Cecilia Barriga (1991)

[15] Dorota Babilas, “From Britain’s Most Unloved Queen to the Favourite?”  in From Queen Anne to Queen Victoria (Vol. 7), ed. Emma Harris and Grażyna Bystydzieńska (Warsaw: University of Warsaw, 2021), 11.

[16] Kara McKechnie, “Taking liberties with the monarch: the royal biopic in the 1990s”, British Historical Cinema: The History, Heritage and Costume Film, ed. Claire Monk and Amy Sargeant (London: Routledge, 2002), 219.

[17] Yellowbeard, Prime Video, directed by Mel Damski (1983; UK: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1983).

[18] Ilia Rhyzhenko, “Cinematic theatricality, queer anachronism and The Favourite,” Screen 63, no. 3 (2022).

[19] Alex Lydikis, “Rethinking the Heritage Film.”

[20] Belén Vidal, Heritage Film: Nation, Genre and Representation (London: Wallflower, 2012), 9.

[21] Tracey Gilchrist, “The Favourite’s Unapolagetic Depiction of Queer Female Sexuality Is an Oscars First,” Advocate, February 24, 2019. https://www.advocate.com/commentary/2019/2/24/favourites-unapologetic-queer-female-sexuality-oscars-first.

[22] Alex Lydikis, “Rethinking the Heritage Film”, 201.

[23] Alex Lydikis, “Rethinking the Heritage Film”, 212.

[24] Vidal, Heritage Film.

[25] McKechnie, “Taking liberties with the monarch”, 232.

[26] Elizabeth, Prime Video, directed by Shekhar Kapur (1998; UK: Gramercy Picture, 1998)

[27] Vidal, Heritage Film.

[28] Higson, Andrew “Re-presenting the past: Nostalgia and Pastiche in the Heritage film.” In Fires Were Started: British Cinema and Thatcherism, edited by Lester Friedman. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993.

[29] bell hooks, Feminist theory from margin to center (Boston: South End Press, 1984), 31.

[30] Nate Jones,“How Historically Accurate Are the Wokest Parts of Mary Queen of Scots?” Vulture, December 10, 2018. https://www.vulture.com/2018/12/mary-queen-of-scots-movie-its-woke-but-is-it-accurate.html.

[31] Emily Yoshida, “Mary Queen of Scots Turns Its Queen into a Generic Underdog Figure,” Vulture, December 6, 2018. https://www.vulture.com/2018/12/mary-queen-of-scots-review.html.

[32] Jean-Louis Comolli, “Historical Fiction: A Body Too Much,” Screen 19, no. 2 (Summer 1978), 47.

[33] Jean-Louis Comolli, “Historical Fiction,” 48.

[34] Louis Montrose, The Subject of Elizabeth: Authority, Gender and Representation (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006).

[35] Jean-Louis Comolli, “Historical Fiction,” 49.

[36] Lisa Niven-Phillips, “The Favourite’s Hair and Make-up Artist Talks Wigs, Badger Make-up and Bending the Rules,” British Vogue, February 2, 2019. https://www.vogue.co.uk/article/the-favourite-wigs-and-makeup-nadia-stacey

[37] Ilia Rhyzhenko, “Cinematic theatricality”.

[38] Higson, Re-presenting the National Past, 91.

[39] Anna Leszkiewicz, ‘“Ugly, gouty, fat”: the problem of Queen Anne’s body,’ The New Statesman, January 18, 2019. https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/2019/01/ugly-gouty-fat-queen-anne-body.

[40] Jean-Louis Comolli, “Historical Fiction,” 50.

[41] Mary Russo, The Female Grotesque: Risk, excess and modernity (New York: Routledge, 1994).

[42] Mary Russo, The Female Grotesque, 65.

[43] Mary Russo, The Female Grotesque, 62.

[44] Barbara Creed, The Monstrous Feminine: Film, feminism, psychoanalysis (London; New York: Routledge, 1993), 25.

[45] Lindsey Bahr, “’Mary, Queen of Scots’ gets a modern twist,” The Columbian, December 14, 2018. https://www.columbian.com/news/2018/dec/14/mary-queen-of-scots-gets-modern-twist/.

[46] Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, trans. Leon S. Roudiez (New York: Columbia University Press, 1982), 4.

[47] Katherine Connell, “The Precarious Politics of Yorgos Lanthimos’s ‘The Favourite’,” Another Gaze, March 6, 2019. https://www.anothergaze.com/precarious-politics-yorgos-lanthimoss-favourite-feminist-queer-lesbian/.

[48] Culpepper, “Long May She Reign”, 15.