I want to begin this review by admitting that I have not yet read Elizabeth Fremantle’s novel, though it is certainly on my wish list. Nor am I deeply familiar with the historical details of Catherine Parr’s life – my area of expertise is, after all, Anne Boleyn. For this reason, today’s review will be slightly different from my previous ones on The Other Boleyn Girl [which you can read here] and Anne of the Thousand Days [which you can read here], where I critiqued (and occasionally praised) the films’ choices regarding historical authenticity. While I still believe in the importance of staying true to historical fact, my review of Firebrand will focus more on its entertainment value. That said, I will touch on historical accuracy, but not in the same level of detail you’re used to from my previous reviews. With this film, I’m fully embracing the “fiction” in historical fiction.

I know this might seem a little hypocritical, given my strong criticism of prioritising fiction over fact in my The Other Boleyn Girl review, but in this case, I think it’s justified. The film opens with a screen card explicitly stating that wild conclusions were drawn – it doesn’t claim to portray absolute truth. As always, this review will contain heavy spoilers.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure where to begin – I feel like I have so much to say, yet I’m struggling to put it into words. I think it’s best to start by praising the cast because, truly, they were phenomenal. Alicia Vikander was outstanding as Catherine, completely embodying the role. I also loved how Erin Doherty portrayed Anne Askew, although I do wish the film had devoted more focus to her character (more on that later). Junia Rees as Elizabeth was one of my favourite choices, she was outstanding and I was in awe of her performance.

For me, the standout casting choice was undoubtedly Jude Law as Henry VIII. He was utterly terrifying, capturing Henry’s presence so effectively that, for brief moments, I forgot I was watching a film. It felt as though I was right there in 1546, experiencing the fear, pain, and anxiety he inflicted upon Catherine. His portrayal was harrowing yet masterful – a truly brilliant performance.

I mentioned Anne Askew earlier, and she is a historical figure I will always feel immense pity and sorrow for. She was so deeply wronged. However, I didn’t feel that way for her, at least so strongly, in the film. Don’t get me wrong – it was sad to hear about her illegal torture and subsequent execution, but the film seemed to gloss over her character. Her arrest, torture, and death all happened off-screen quite early in the film, which made it hard for those unaware of her story to form a meaningful connection with her. That said, I did appreciate her reappearance at the end, after Catherine (fictionally) murdered Henry VIII. It felt like a small, poetic form of justice for Anne.

Let’s backtrack a bit… Catherine murdering Henry? What was that about? Yes, I know this is fiction, but I genuinely think this was a step too far. Was it satisfying to see Henry finally getting a taste of his own medicine, being treated with the same cruelty he inflicted on his wives? Absolutely.

However, I believe the film could have been made without this plot point. While I said I wouldn’t focus too much on historical inaccuracies, this raises a broader concern I have with historical fiction: such portrayals risk oversimplifying complex figures. Catherine, who has often been reduced to the image of an old nurse for Henry, now risks being remembered as a vengeful murderer instead. To push this point further, doesn’t that portrayal make her no different from Henry himself – a figure history has solidly established as a viscous, tyrannical murderer?

One of my favourite lines in the film is a subtle, blink-and-you-miss-it moment. The scene unfolds when Princess Mary warns Princess Elizabeth to be cautious about how she speaks to their father, reminding her of how her own mother (Katherine of Aragon) had been treated. Elizabeth’s response is quiet but brimming with anger and raw emotion: “Do you remember the last time I saw my mother? No? Nor do I.” The mother in question is, of course, Anne Boleyn, who was executed when Elizabeth was just two years old. This fleeting moment – barely ten seconds – absolutely made the film for me. It added a layer of tension and emotional depth, grounding the story in a sense of realism that felt authentic and poignant.

Although I don’t want to focus too much on Elizabeth, I have to say I loved the film’s ending, where Elizabeth narrated in a voiceover that Catherine “forged something in her flames and made way for the tender shoots of hope to burst forth.” This is a beautiful quote, made even more poignant by the final shot of Elizabeth – the monarch who would usher England into its golden age but might not have been in line for the throne without Catherine’s influence – smiling into the camera. To me, this quote represents both Catherine and Elizabeth and the unique bond they shared; Catherine was arguably the most significant maternal figure in Elizabeth’s life. Honestly, I would love to see another film featuring Junia Rees as Elizabeth – her performance was fantastic.

Returning to Catherine, I feel that Firebrand fell short in fully capturing her brilliance. Admittedly, I’m not as knowledgeable about Catherine as I’d like to be, but I do know her as a fiery, intelligent, and independent woman – someone deeply passionate about reform and literature. While the film touched on these aspects of her character, I don’t think it explored them enough to do her justice. As much as I loved the prominent focus on Elizabeth, it would have been nice to see more attention given to Catherine herself. With additional screen time, the film could have better showcased her intelligence and strength.

To quickly highlight just a few of the historical inaccuracies (because this review is starting to feel quite long): Catherine was never pregnant with Henry VIII’s child, and he certainly wouldn’t have risked an heir’s life by standing on her stomach; Margaret, Arthur, and Henry Pole were all executed before 1546, contrary to the timeline presented in the film; Catherine, of course, did not murder Henry VIII; and finally, where was Archbishop Cranmer?

I’ll end on a positive note: I absolutely adored the costumes throughout the film. They paid close attention to historical authenticity (at least in that department), and that deserves high praise. As I mentioned earlier, I can appreciate the film’s unapologetic and self-aware depiction of an alternative history. I would recommend this film, but with the caveat that it’s more of a reimagining of history, loosely rooted in fact.

Rating

3/5