The Queen - Mirren v. Davis
Helen Mirren's Elizabeth 2 was preceded by Bette Davis' Elizabeth 1
Long before Helen Mirren won acclaim as the current monarch, Bette Davis did same as Her Majesty's namesake, in 1939's "The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex"
If you're a classic film fan, the recent spate of awards bestowed upon Helen Mirren for her portrayal of Queen Elizabeth the Second no doubt brings to mind the image of Bette Davis, and her unforgettable 1939 stint as Queen Elizabeth the First.
The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, widely available on DVD, is a well paced mix of playwright Maxwell Anderson's flowery language and director Michael Curtiz' familiar themes, including that of the aching incongruity of love in political circumstance (see Casablanca.)
The film opens with dashing, imperturbable Errol Flynn, as star soldier and Queen's confidante Essex, making a grand entrance into a colorful courtyard more MGM than Warner Bros. The conquering hero (three years plundering the Spanish) and his Majesty rekindle their complicated romance, until she is motivated to dispatch him to Ireland, where Spain, it's suspected, might set up post. Due to an act of in-house chicanery, however, Essex is forced to surrender. Livid, he marches what remains of his army into London and demands a share of the throne, an ultimatum that represents the ultimate collision of love and duty.
In Pauline Kael's memorable phrase, pitting Flynn against Davis is like putting a peashooter up against a tank. The film is Davis' all the way. Her egg-shaped face, unblinking, toad-like eyes and high-set russet locks suggest political caricature but Davis, as both a skilled actress and a natural show-off, transcends the restrictive make-up and truly shows us a woman torn, the temperamental professional warring with the heartbroken sentimentalist.
It's best epitomized in a grand and eloquent speech that takes place at the film's 28 minute mark:
"To be a queen is to be less than human. To put pride before desire. To search men's hearts for tenderness and find only ambition. To cry out in the dark for one, unselfish voice and hear only the dry rustle of papers of state. To turn to one's beloved with stars for eyes and have him see behind them only the shadow of the executioner's block."
One wonders, particularly in the wake of Davis' at-long-last-published autobiography, The Girl Who Walked Home Alone, just how naturally the part came to her. As she describes her love life within those pages, "I put all men to a test they can't possibly pass" - and indeed Essex, despite overture after overture, doesn't; he not only loses the contest, he loses his head.
No doubt Mirren will be adding an Oscar this month to her already crowded mantle. Davis didn't win for either of her turns as Elizabeth the First (she reprised the role in the early fifties), but then, as the woman who nicknamed the statuette after one of her distant relatives, what kind of reward for such a grand performance is a sculpture of your uncle?
