‘Mary & George’ Review: Julianne Moore is a Machiavellian Mother in the Galitzine Empire

The opening credits of the new STARZ limited series Mary & George closes on Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1613 painting Judith Slaying Holofernes, period appropriate for the setting of this true-ish tale of palace intrigue, sex and murder. It’s largely a more aesthetic and superficial visual choice, the story of a woman avenging her rape at the hands of a general with the help of her maid, but as a follower of Caravaggio, who is name-dropped in the series and also painted a version of this, the implications are drawn that power for women in 1600s England was never offered but had to be taken.

When we first meet mother and son Mary and George Villiers (Julianne Moore and Nicholas Galitzine) it’s 1612 and young George is hanging from a tree, a noose around his neck. Mary is unfazed and unbothered. “Good morning, George,” is all she can muster as she casually cuts her son down from yet another suicide attempt, a moment that instantly recalls 1971’s wickedly dark comedy Harold and Maude. Flashback to 1592, the day George is born. “You are my second son, and you will inherit nothing of value,” says Mary. It’s not a cruel statement but a cruel fact of succession. As the midwives attempt to cut the umbilical cord, Mary denies them, holding George closer. Whether she’s baking a cake with her little queer child in The Hours or trying to seduce her own offspring in Savage Grace, Moore is going to have a deeply complicated or inappropriate relationship with her gay son and Mary & George is another cinch in that very specific corset. 

It’s a cheeky juxtapositional intro to the duo, albeit rather isolated from anything else we’ll see, but it does set the stage for the tone (of the first half, at least) delicious backstabbing, buggery by this scheme team that gives both Moore and Galitzine so much to work with as a power-mad pair whose sights are nothing less than controlling the crown and placing him alongside King James I (Tony Curran) as First Fuckboy. “Have you found me a wife?” George asks, returning from an orgy-filled refinement school in France. “I think we aim higher,” says Mary, as she plots to pimp out her son and her own place in the royal court. “If I were a man, and I looked like you, I’d rule the fucking planet,” she says, with an acid tongue of envy and spite.

For Mary, it’s less about actual power and status than it is about sheer survival, at least at first. After the death of aged husband, she is left penniless with four mostly or near adult children: eldest rascal Kit (Jacob McCarthy), meek Susan (Alice Grant) and John (Tom Victor), simple of mind and sickly Victorian child of body. A useless lot that points all eyes and hopes on George. She extends her currency runway with the quick marriage to Sir Thomas Compton (Sean Gilder), a willing suitor but too unaware of the Villiers’ villainry and neediness.

Mary cleverly organizes for George to serve dinner to the king, but during service he is purposely tripped by a fellow server, goaded by the king’s current lover, the Earl of Somerset (a fantastic Laurie Davidson), who doesn’t want the king’s already wandering eye (and cock) to stray any further from his stable of “Scottish semen guzzlers” than it needs to. George, unable to back down, pummels the man in front of everyone, piquing the interest of King James. Call it a beat cute. As the king, whose slender build and bright red hair is like a feral fox, a sex-crazed fox who literally chews his prey, Curran is magnetic and sympathetic here, in a gorgeous performance. Cock-struck but genuine in his quest for love and trust among the jackals around him, Curran (Red Road, Showtime’s Your Honor) paints James with every feathered quill in his set, creating a multi-dimensional portrait and not simply a king drunk on booze and boy batter. 

Moore hasn’t really played a mastermind like Mary before but she couldn’t be any more perfect as the flinty, strong-willed Mary. For Galitzine, no stranger to horny, gay monarchs after Red, White and Royal Blue (and Bottoms, honestly), his pouty-lipped George, a Little Lord Fuckingham of a prince, has the most difficult role – as character and performer – volleying between alliance and allegiance to his mother and his lover. One of the ‘it’ actors of the moment, he’s more than up for the task here and his chemistry with both Moore and Curran is palpable. 

Based on Benjamin Woolley’s book, “The King’s Assassin: The Secret Plot to Murder King James I,” Mary & George plays a little fast and loose with facts and fiction, less so than its rigorously sourced material, but we’re largely past the era of didactic history lessons in our quasi-biopics. Even the bodice rippers of years past weren’t willing to dive into man-on-man blowjobs and backdoor action the way premium cable and streamers have kicked the door open to with shows like Wolf Hall, The Tudors and Bridgerton. Creator D.C. Moore, a playwright and television writer heading his first series, and director Oliver Hermanus (Moffie, the upcoming The History of Sound with Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor) offer a bawdy, profane take on one of history’s wildest stories. Curiously, the first half of the series that’s helmed by Hermanus gives us some high camp and the true romp value but takes a decidedly more traditional and straightforward approach in its second half, with some diminishing results. But in a series rich with gorgeous costuming (the collars and embroidery by Annie Symons and to die for) and ripping dialogue that allows characters to spit lines like “You have few too many penises and two too many tits,” it’s hard to not be along for the twisty, torrid ride all the way to the end.

Grade: B

STARZ will premiere the first of seven episodes of the limited series Mary & George on April 5. New episodes will be available to stream weekly on Fridays at midnight on the STARZ app, all STARZ streaming and on-demand platforms and will air weekly on the STARZ linear platform.