A Prince of the Female Gender

Still, Elizabeth had one key emotional weapon that Clinton might do well to use more freely: flirtation. The film suggests, rather implausibly, that through her feminine wiles and pointed sexuality Elizabeth harnessed Sir Walter Raleigh to heroically defend England against attack from the Spanish Armada. She rarely hesitates to infuse her monarchic power with a bit of feminine sexual charge. But public flirtation comes far less naturally to Clinton—whose experience in her husband's White House proves there is danger that comes when politicians demonstrate too directly that they too are sexual beings. But a little mild flirtation is a key tool for politicians of both sexes, and Clinton is certainly capable of it. Last week she joked that Republican attacks were flattering because "when you get to be our age, it's kind of nice to have all these men obsessed with you."

The emotional rule book in "Elizabeth" is complicated and hard to follow: flirt, rage, love a little but never, ever too much. Watching it, I wondered the same thing I always wonder when I watch candidates for the presidency putting themselves through the drudgery and the emotional starvation of a long, grueling campaign: is it really worth it? The film, and the Clintons, are reminders of all that gets bargained away in public life. At the end of "Elizabeth" the queen has defeated the Spanish Armada and governs over a golden age of prosperity on England's shores. Blanchett appears as a living statue in white body paint. Behind her pane of glass, a queen is victorious, ferocious—and utterly alone.

© 2007