Returning early from his campaign in France, King Henry VIII (Jude Law) took back control of the throne from his wife, Katherine Parr (Alicia Vikander), the queen regent who led the kingdom in her husband’s absence.  Furious that a wound on his leg has begun to fester and makes him appear weak in front of his men, those closest to him – including his wife – begin to lay plans on how they will lead the country when the King passes.  Ever paranoid, Henry launches an investigation into rumors surrounding his wife’s transgressions against the crown due to her affiliation with radical heretic Anne Askew (Erin Doherty) and eventually sentences them both to death – a fate which Katherine narrowly escapes – but the movement they started will take the country by storm. 

Karim Aïnouz directs Firebrand, a 120-minute period piece penned by Henrietta Ashworth and Jessica Ashworth who adapted Elizabeth Fremantle’s 2013 novel covering the final years of the Tudors.  The historical drama debuted in competition at the 2023 edition of the Cannes Film Festival and was eventually released in the United States courtesy of Roadside Attractions and Vertical Entertainment.  Firebrand marks Aïnouz’s first English language directorial effort, but it matches well with the Brazilian director’s affinity for searing romances and punishing dramas. 

Vikander’s Katherine is the lens through which the narrative is shot despite sharing screentime pretty evenly with Law, whose purposefully boisterous performance often dwarfs that of his screen partner, but Aïnouz’s commitment to this revisionist Renaissance drama never lets Henry take full control.  It mirrors the arcs of the film, everyone is aware of Henry, but as the events unfold, they – and we – are also aware that his grip on the crown and his cabinet is slipping.  It is the perfect circumstance to subvert how these stories are often told through the eyes of the men in power, but unfortunately, the overall narrative is quite loose and it does not afford Vikander the juicy role she clearly craves.  

Additionally, audiences are expected to come with a lot of interior knowledge of this specific dynamic, and while that is a perfectly valid approach, those a little dusty on their early 16th-century, British history may find the film a little alienating in the lack of details.  Without the history, much of the fun of the palace intrigue is gone, and we do not even get the benefit of it being more of a textbook committed to film.  Instead, it is two hours of characters we almost recognize in situations we sort of recall, but they are speaking with far more nuance than we are capable of understanding and engaging with at the time.  Again, this is not entirely the fault of the film, but it expects the casual audience member to meet it at an already high level and it really begs the question of who is this for since it is not seeking to inform, and what we do see does not seem nuanced enough to offer a new way of thinking for those more studied on the subject. 

Firebrand further struggles to secure an audience because of its almost complete lack of tone. It is not stuffy enough to be carted out into classrooms by burnt-out teachers late in the semester, and while it does feature its share of rather unsexy Renaissance sex scenes that would still be sure to send the PTA boards into a tizzy, it is nowhere near as sleek and glamorous as what can be found on HBO. What is most unfortunate about this confusing tone is that in the final moments of the film, is that a voiceover is introduced for the first time in the film, given by Princess Elizabeth (Junia Rees) who is more or less revealed to be the narrator of Firebrand even though she was largely absent from the preceding action. It is as if the film we saw was recontextualizing Katherine’s influence on Henry, and with the illusion of her father shattered, this future queen already has the seeds of modernity plated in her brain. This gives way to the closing credits which, before the crawl, show out in bright, bold red letters over a blue background inhabited by fireflies crawling over the grass at night. At long last, the film has found its style, something that is bold and popping, daring like in Sally Potter’s Orlando (1992), Baz Luhrmann‘s Romeo + Juliet (1996), Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette (2006), or Yorgos Lanthimos’ The Favorite (2018). It is too little, too late, and gives way to a wildly jarring song over the crawl which leaves us once again confused as to what we are watching. 

It is not that Firebrand is a bad film, or one that is poorly made, but there is alarmingly little about it that demands it to be seen. Both Vickander and Law work well in their roles, and between Hélène Louvart’s cinematography and Michael O’Connor’s costumes, there is always something to look at that is captivating and attractive to the eye, but the Ashworths’ script really is a letdown for those looking to plumb the depths of the fraught final months of this royal relationship. The narrative follows a circular pattern as Henry’s infection grows worse only for the King to miraculously fend off death once again, but it never breaks from its radius to begin spiraling out of control. Everything about the film remains too reserved so as not to make waves in the court, but for a film that centers itself around someone who did cause waves, it is lacking in both chaos and flair.