The Girl King, directed by veteran Mika Kaurismäki and adapted from Michel Marc Bouchard’s play of the same name, is a markedly modern biopic of Queen Kristina, who was the queen-elect at six-years-old and became one of her time’s most controversial and influential figures. Coming into power at the age of 18 after her father’s death, in the middle of the Thirty Years’ War, Kristina reveals herself as an intelligent, independent woman with her own ideas of how to rule.
Where to Begin
Eliding much of Kristina’s childhood into an oddly constructed prologue, the first half of the film is marred by disjointed pacing, which separates the films ideas and characters into awkwardly staged vignettes and stumbling transitions that only serve to break up the previous drama, rather than build on it. The film has a moderate running time of 106 minutes, but feels much longer due to the number of characters and subplots it tries to do justice to. Queen Kristina is a fascinating subject, and the film’s exploration of her sexuality, devotion to the arts, obsession with René Descartes, and religious identity, all among the backdrop of the Thirty Years’ War, provides more than enough subject matter to fill three films. And, as such, it seems overstuffed mostly because it tries too hard to make each one capital-I Important, rather than allowing the various facets of Kristina’s character to stand on their own, The Girl King stamps each one as a political statement.
Although far more beautiful than Kristina was by most accounts, Malin Buska embodies the role with a cold fire and gives Kristina a buried passion that lets itself burst to the surface more frequently as the film goes on; from spewing indignation to her courtiers and advisers, to forcefully seducing her lady-in-waiting, Countess Ebba Sparre (Sarah Gadon), there’s an unpredictability that lends to an air of mystery with Malin’s Queen Kristina. It also plays well with the film’s focus on philosophy, which spends a considerable amount of dialogue discussing, both on the surface and in subtext, Plato’s obsession with reason ruling the “passions.”
There are not many films which quote philosophers at length, yet here we’re treated to a considerable amount of Rene Descartes (portrayed by Patrick Bauchau), who corresponded with and later tutored Kristina. It is also heavy on Luther, properly showing the ubiquity of Protestant thinking in Sweden at the time, and just how abrasive the Queen’s interest of Catholicism was to her subjects. Few films attempt to convey the complexities of how one’s personal faith is at odds with the political machinations of institutions, and while The Girl King does not fully succeed, its stabs at the subject are appreciated.
Overwrought Melodrama
There are a few questionable lines of dialogue, such as several colorful curses from the Queen (would she really say after trying a bowl of stew, “By the rusty nails of Christ’s cross, this is delicious!” to a Catholic priest?). It veers into another eye-rolling line later on as she berates Descartes, “By Christ’s balls, I don’t like to be kept waiting.” It’s effective in portraying Kristina’s devil-may-care attitude towards propriety, but both lines are uttered before she has truly begun to reject religion, and both phrases would have been highly impious. It’s a further reminder of the film’s modernity – which is hard to reconcile given that the film plays best as a period piece rather than a modern story transposed onto the past. Yet it’s a beautifully designed and costumed film, bold in its ideas, and includes a few moments of vivid landscapes, such as a picturesque windmill on the riverbank, or Ebba’s blue dress against a snowy backdrop.
But, while punctuated with great moments and generally well shot (although the constant yellow glow standing in for candlelight became monotonous), The Girl King’s soap opera/TV movie vibe weighs it down. And while Kristina’s love affair with Ebba (apart from one ludicrous scene atop the “Devil’s Bible”) manages to avoid devolving into sapphic softcore and hones in on the emotional core of Kristina’s character, it is hardly as sophisticated a look at unconventional romance as the recent melodrama Beloved Sisters. Yet it throws subtlety to the wind on purpose. There’s a deliciously absurd scene, after Ebba is pressured to leave the Queen and marry her former fiance, when Kristina storms into the wedding ceremony like Maleficent, tear-stained face shaking in rage as she screams at the crowd to “Stare at their beauty!” before running out and throwing herself into the river. The issue isn’t with scenes like this (there’s a sharp difference between a fun melodrama and a solemn one), the issue is that the film hops and skips all over the place stylistically and tonally, as if in the throes of mood swings, but the film’s framing is too objective to allow this jarring dissonance any textual meaning.
The film ends with Kristina’s abdication – after a mere ten years on the throne – which is shown in one of the film’s most striking visuals: she walks through a door, framed in white light, until the whole screen pushes forward into that light, and we see Kristina astride her horse, galloping across a field of light for a brief moment, before the surrounding countryside appears again and she disappears in the distance. While beautiful, it’s also aggravating because the film ends on a hagiographic note, even after exploring her character as an enigma, often impetuous and rash, the ending offers a didactic textual overlay of her accomplishments which undermines the complexity revealed throughout the film. The Girl King manages to provide a compelling character study despite its over-the-top dramatic flair and rushed narrative arcs. It’s an at times beautiful period piece that suffers from its lofty, ambitious storytelling that gets bogged down in minutiae and overwrought melodrama.
The Girl King is currently playing in select theaters and is available on DVD and across all digital platforms including iTunes, Vimeo On Demand, and WolfeOnDemand.com.