‘Mary & George’ Limited Series Review – A Campy Love Story Between Ambition And Audacity

Mary & George is a love story.

There are some noteworthy caveats. The STARZ limited series follows the dynamic mother-son duo of Mary (Julianne Moore) and George Villiers (Nicholas Galitzine), who schemed their way into the royal court of King James I of England (Tony Curran). Love is technically involved: the seed of their plot is James’s not-so-secret penchant for male lovers. Mary exploits it by grooming George to be the King’s newest sexual plaything. While George does make his way into the King’s bed-chamber, the love story is not James and George’s. It isn’t a story of paternal love between Mary and George, either. (They can barely stand each other, for starters.)

Instead, Mary & George’s sweeping love story is between ambition and audacity. From the start, showrunner Oliver Hermanus puts the two at the heart of his Jacobean England. It’s a time when everyone seeks the improvement of their stations in the wake of the first Queen Elizabeth’s death. With James I’s voracious appetites influencing everything from social position to geopolitics, how dirty someone will get determines access to power. As such, ambition and audacity make a loyal subject of every character in the series. It pushes them all towards unguarded acts of social climbing and (literal and figurative) backstabbing for the sake of influence.

Given the historical implications and the unabashed sleaze, Hermanus could’ve taken Mary & George down one of two routes. The series could’ve taken on airs of pretension, mired in the sociopolitical gravity of the Villiers’ schemes. Or, he could’ve played their scheme as a royal farce that would’ve made their plotting flimsier and inconsequential. In a world with The Crown and The Favourite, Hermanus chooses a middle road. His approach acknowledges the Villiers’ absolute significance without limiting the fun of their story’s more outrageous leanings. Mary & George is a series where Mary finds George attempting to hang himself, cuts him down, and berates him in front of his siblings with the rope burns fresh on his neck. To make matters even worse, she casually mentions to her children that she finds them inferior in the same scene.

The scene plays like a royally messed-up comedy, with a tight, acerbic script and delightfully deadpan delivery. However, Hermanus doesn’t deny or discount the emotional core of George’s suicide attempt. That balance of sincerity and meta-humor sets the stage for a campy romp through the halls of the British Empire. The self-aware winks at the audience through its biting banter and occasional sight gags add a lively undercurrent to its prestige aesthetics. (Everything from the ornate set design and costumes to the score are collectively great.) It also helps build upon the world’s unpredictability, especially when the series introduces the mercurial King James.

The Villiers’ first introductions to King James’s royal court, from episode two onwards, are Mary & George at its manipulative best. With George coming into his sexual fluidity and penchant for plotting, the series lets loose and leans into the volatility that comes with being one of the King’s “favorites.” Someone may think they have the upper hand, but there’s often another who is slightly more tenacious and unprincipled. Brief glimmers of genuine affection offset the ceaseless scheming (and infrequent murders). At first, James seems like a harbinger of whimsical chaos, but he and George discover something real beneath the machinations. Mary, the series’s most unapologetically ruthless character, forms a close bond with Sandie (Niamh Algar), a clear-eyed sex worker. Again, Hermanus strikes a delicate balance between cynicism and sincerity, offering a nuanced take on whether the categorically worst people are capable of redemption. 

The series’ great central performances are crucial to bringing that nuance to life. Julianne Moore is splendid as Mary. She clearly relishes playing such a corrupt character, making a meal of her endless putdowns and slights. However, she reins in the venom enough so Mary doesn’t dissolve into a sneering caricature. Nicholas Galitzine does well with his character’s conflict and insecurity, but he is miles better as the freer, feistier George. Galitzine’s best moments are when he combines his natural sensitivity and sexual magnetism to manipulate his unsuspecting targets. Conversely, Tony Curran is most affecting when James is at his most vulnerable. Curran is a riot as the debauched King, but he conveys genuine anguish and loneliness when the metaphorical robes come off. With impossible-to-ignore gravitas, he turns in the series’ most surprisingly powerful performance.

A love story between ambition and audacity is naturally doomed, and a quick Wikipedia search can confirm what happens to the Villiers. Despite the Villiers’ end, Mary & George is a worthwhile capture of their salacious and sardonic journey up the royal social ladder. Oliver Hermanus weaves a tale of sex, deceit, and royal titles that acknowledges its historical significance without taking itself too seriously. The series wears its campy dressings with shameless pride and is all the better for it. The romances – thematic and otherwise – may be doomed, but they make for good television.

Mary & George will premiere in the U.S. on April 5, 2024 on Starz. 

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYI7FtJr20c]