Elizabeth: The Golden Age

“Elizabeth: The Golden Age” has matured in all ways since its prequel, 1998’s “Elizabeth.” Motivated by the many intricate layers of the personality of Queen Elizabeth I, whom Cate Blanchett portrays in both films, it never rests in one place for too long and stays impressively true to historical accounts of her reign. Despite the seven Oscars for which “Elizabeth” was nominated, “The Golden Age” breaks with the common convention of sequels falling short of their predecessors. Rather, it tells a whole story in itself, aging as gracefully as its subject.

Leaping three decades from where the first film ended, the movie brings Spanish and Catholic threats to England’s Protestant shores in 1585. Spain’s Philip II (Jordi Mollà), Elizabeth’s counterpart, embodies the fundamentalist threat of the age and remains a lurking presence throughout, though the two leaders never meet face-to-face in the film. At home, Mary Queen of Scots (Samantha Morton of “In America”) hungrily eyes Elizabeth’s throne, while the arrival of a new figure in the court—Clive Owen’s Sir Walter Raleigh—stirs a rebellious and simultaneously vulnerable streak in Elizabeth.

Most striking about the two films are their portrayals of Elizabeth as a breathing, feeling, and mortal being. Because history credits her reign as one of the most prosperous and glorious of England’s past, the embarrassingly naïve and volatile young Elizabeth from the first film brings a fresh element of realism to the legend of the personality.

In this second film, however, Elizabeth is vulnerable in a different way: she has to work to govern herself as well as her kingdom, and she must learn to accept her demanding and often lonely role as Queen of England. The camera often peers down on her from above, showing her in the middle of a huge hall, dwarfed by the centuries of history about her.

The film’s biggest disappointment lies, ironically, in the plot twist that generated the most buzz—the relationship between Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh, adventurer and settler of the New World. His first appearances in court are filled with flirtatious tension, mystery, and bravado, and Elizabeth becomes attracted to his otherworldliness to the point of envy.

Yet Owen’s character quickly grows two-dimensional. Besides always presenting the same calm and manly front, Raleigh mechanically offers hopelessly banal pieces of advice to Elizabeth, like “We mortals have many weaknesses. We feel too much, hurt too much or too soon we die, but we do have the chance of love.” Even when Raleigh falls in love with Bess (Abbie Cornish), Elizabeth’s favorite lady-in-waiting, the romance is flat and hardly worth the love triangle.

Fortunately, the excellent score carries his character towards the end, working itself seamlessly into the transition of events. The dialogue between the characters, at least, never feels labored or clichéd.

As opposed to Owen, Cate Blanchett skillfully blends the images of woman and queen, human and idol. Often shown through reflections, windows, and behind veils, the expressiveness of her face tells not only of her age and maturity, but also of her intensity as a woman and leader. The costuming is superb, at times making her appear ethereal and virginal; at others, tired and crumpled. The cinematography deftly captures the ornate world of the Elizabethan court without overwhelming.

Director Shekhar Kapur, who also directed “Elizabeth,” achieves his greatest feat in the same way Blanchett does: by convincingly balancing all the elements that make Elizabeth a queen—her intelligence, courage, and independence—with those that make her a woman like any other—her surprising vulnerability, passion, and self-doubt. This combination makes Elizabeth a formidable, but credible, enigma, and gives the film’s web of history, romance, and action a sense of direction and unity.