The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015. Remaining movies: 165 Days to go: 158
Movie #218: Queen Christina
If ever you doubt the systematic inequality and oppression of women across time and around the world, look to the number of stories we tell about women disguising themselves as men. (I’m not talking about stories of transvestitism or transgenderism here, but strictly stories of concealing one’s identity.) In a vast majority of cases, women masquerade as men (in fiction and in true stories of various time periods) out of fear for their safety or in a quest for greater autonomy over their lives. Comedy or drama, that need for greater freedom of movement — to live freely and unmolested according to one’s own wishes — is almost always the motivation. In the opposing scenario, when men masquerade as women, it’s often a gag or a trick. It’s played for laughs. Maybe he’s evading capture or maybe he’s trying to get into an all-female club of some sort, but it’s almost always a farce. Women sometimes get to revel in that same kind of silliness — the bizarre hilarity of what it’s like to be a man — but there’s usually an underlying factor of independence, regardless of whether the woman in question is rich or poor, worldly or innocent. She still longs for the ability to lead her own life — without fear or retribution or threat of violence.
In Queen Christina, Greta Garbo plays the title character, who, despite her position as supreme ruler of Sweden, still seeks the solace of an independent life and often dresses like a man to ride the countryside anonymously. Now, Garbo may be a slender woman with a throaty voice, but I still doubt the observational skills of anyone who would mistake her for a man. Thankfully, the masquerade doesn’t last long, for when she’s cornered into sharing a room at the inn with the Spanish envoy Antonio (John Gilbert), the jig is up as soon as she takes off her coat. He still doesn’t know she’s the Queen, however, so there are still surprises to come, but the two find much contentment and romance while snowed in at that inn, making Christina’s political obligations that much more difficult.
Almost prophetically, the closing shot of Christina somberly sailing away from her beloved Sweden to live a life of solitude foreshadows Garbo’s own eventual withdrawal from public life — which occurred not long after the untimely death of frequent costar and on-and-off paramour Gilbert, just as Christina’s self-imposed exile occurs after the untimely demise of her dear Antonio — and her oft-imitated request, “I want to be alone.” It’s an iconic image of an unwritten future, of launching into the unknown, and of finally gaining the independence and freedom (though at a very high cost) that she’d always wished for.
I was assigned the task of watching Queen Christina as part of a Women in Film class, and it’s always stuck with me — for its feminist message (one based on the real life of the actual 17th century Queen of Sweden — a woman who really did disguise herself as a man to escape her constrained existence and who eventually abdicated her thrown in order to live the life of her choosing), for its remarkable and indelible performance by Garbo, and its assertion of eternal devotion — not only to a lover, but to one’s own heart. It’s a deceptively simple film that packs a powerful punch, and I hope it remains a staple of film education and appreciation for years to come.
Viable Option 