Guest post written by Rosalind Kemp.
Rather than merely bringing European history to the screen A Royal Affair is an effective character drama of three people and their relationships with each other. It begins with Caroline Mathilda leaving her English home to join her husband King Christian VII, whom she’s never met, in Denmark. It is clear at their first meeting that all is not quite right with the king and despite her best efforts at performing her duty Caroline finds his eccentric behaviour hard to bear. The court labels the king as mad and while he’s on a European tour German doctor, Johann Friedrich Struensee, is convinced to become his personal physician. Struensee manages to gain the king’s trust with kindness and patience and by indulging the King’s fancies. Along with the development of a friendship with the King, Struensee discovers a political affinity with Caroline; both share the same radical, enlightened political ideas and what begins as an intellectual bond becomes a love affair. The film has sublime visuals without being frilly or fetishising historical dress and design, and the central trio of actors are powerfully affecting and all engage the viewers’ sympathies despite the conflicting motivations and desires of the characters.
Mads Mikkelsen as Johann Friedrich Struensee and Alicia Vikander as Queen Caroline Mathilde in A Royal Affair |
At first A Royal Affair seems an unusual choice for Denmark’s nomination for the Academy’s best foreign film. The cultural products from Denmark we’re used to seeing in the UK and USA tend to be modern, sparing and noirish rather than lavish period dramas. But Queen Caroline has kindred spirits in Sara Lund of Forbrydelsen and the female characters of Borgen and The Bridge. All of these stories have people struggling with the power (or lack of) that society has bestowed on them. All are commentaries on contemporary Danish society. The relevance of A Royal Affair to the melodramas within politics today increases its value beyond historical fantasy or indulgence while still offering us the pleasures of period drama.
An interesting element to the film is how the characters are all shown sympathetically as humans making compromises to stay alive in a world that restricts them from being themselves; Struensee, whose opinions correspond with the film’s message, states “some of society’s norms prevent people from living their lives.” They all must create strategies to deal with a difficult world that is hostile to them due to their gender, their position, their “madness”, or their beliefs. Before she is married, Caroline is sober but positive about her future. But she doesn’t suffer fools gladly and hasn’t the temperament to put up with her husband’s behaviour. Once she realises the restrictions upon her she becomes steadily more melancholy until she starts to talk with Struensee. He first tries to enliven her at the order of Christian who fed up with his “grumpy” wife asks Struensee to “make her fun! I want a fun queen.” It is clear to us that her behaviour and conduct is not dull by choice but the result of a lifetime’s training in how to be a queen and of the correct femininity. Trying to cheer her Struensee asks if she rides and when she says no he replies “That is because you use side-saddle”. In this way her suffering is explicitly shown as being a result of her conforming to femininity and her joy at rebelliously riding astride is clearly visible.
Of course her husband could have treated her better but he too is suffering under societal expectations. He is king and expected to rule but is also seen as an idiot and a madman so is ridiculed and patronised. Struensee explains that “some people are so sealed inside their fate that they hide – deep within their mind” thus Christian’s “madness” is a coping strategy for a role he doesn’t wish to act. Once Struensee takes over Christian’s responsibilities in court, he no longer has the time to be his friend. He supplies Christian with Moranti, a black child, to play with in his place. It’s particularly sad and sickening to see the silent boy being given like a toy to an infantilised man. Despite escaping from a slave ship, Moranti hasn’t escaped his otherness and it seems that even though Struensee and Christian make moves to end slavery and serfdom in Denmark, on an individual basis people’s liberties can’t always be won. Struensee it seems has a healthier strategy for coping with the injustice of his position. He uses his influence on the king to bring about changes to society more in line with his radical enlightened beliefs. Of course the punishment Struensee receives for his transgression is harsher than the others’ suggesting that the privileges of aristocracy over the common person is more powerful than those of gender, education or sanity.
As this is supposedly a story of a love triangle (though it’s so much more) a lot of the film focuses on relationships. Romance is actually a long time coming with the friendships between Struensee and Christian, and Struensee and Caroline being more clearly established. Struensee manages to identify both of their sufferings and provide support when neither have other friends. This could make his alliances seem suspiciously convenient to his political and social goals but the relationships are at no time presented as being insincere. We’re also inclined to wonder if each person’s isolation adds to their sorrows. When Caroline first arrives in Denmark she develops a strong bond with her lady in waiting Louise until Christian viciously attacks her and removes her from the queen’s service. This leaves Caroline without a confidante until she’s sent away after being accused of plotting treason and is reunited with her. Each character suffers on their own and in this unjust world, to negotiate a place for yourself there can be no unity or sisterhood. The only time we hear Caroline speak to her mother-in-law Juliane Marie is when she is begging not to be separated from her son Frederik the crown prince. Both women understand each other’s love for their children and the need to protect them but in the royal household they cannot both succeed.
Mikkel Boe Følsgaard as King Christian VII and Mads Mikkelsen Johann Friedrich Struensee in A Royal Affair |
The relationship between Christian and Struensee is depicted touchingly with Christian’s boorish manner becoming kinder in his friend’s presence. Their betrayals of each other (though it must be said that Christian’s was unwitting) are painful demonstrations of the impossibility of transgressive friendships. It is the removal of Christian’s power and autonomy that marks Struensee’s betrayal rather than his affair.
A Royal Affair shows that sometimes friendship is more important than sex, which is refreshing for melodramas such as this, and that’s perhaps what makes it more disappointing when we see less of Caroline on-screen once her relationship with Struensee becomes sexual. She may discuss politics with him in her bed-chamber but when it comes to putting their ideas to council it has to be enacted by the men. There is no doubt that Caroline’s influence is powerful but it is so often behind the scenes, it’s pleasing in any case that her fascinating story has now been shown in film.
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Rosalind Kemp is a film studies graduate living in Brighton, UK. She’s particularly interested in female coming of age stories, film noir and European films where people talk a lot but not much happens.
I loved this surprisingly progressive, feminist film (especially for a period costume drama!) and hope it wins. Thank you for reviewing it.