A Royal Affair: Why This 18th-Century Scandal Still Feels So Modern

A Royal Affair: Why This 18th-Century Scandal Still Feels So Modern

History is usually written by the winners, but A Royal Affair (originally titled En kongelig affære) proves that the losers often have the better stories. If you haven't seen this 2012 Danish masterpiece, you're missing out on one of the most visceral depictions of power, madness, and forbidden love ever put to film. It isn't just a "costume drama." It’s a political thriller that happens to feature silk stockings and horse-drawn carriages.

Most people think of period pieces as stuffy. They imagine people sitting in drawing rooms drinking tea and talking about inheritance. This movie is the opposite. It’s sweaty. It’s claustrophobic. It’s genuinely dangerous. Directed by Nikolaj Arcel, the film centers on the true story of Caroline Matilda of Great Britain, King Christian VII of Denmark, and the royal physician Johann Friedrich Struensee.

It’s a weird triangle. Honestly, it’s a bit heartbreaking.

The Tragic Reality Behind A Royal Affair

When Alicia Vikander’s Caroline Matilda arrives in Denmark, she’s barely a woman. She’s sixteen. She expects a fairy tale, but instead, she gets Mikkel Følsgaard’s Christian VII—a king who is clearly struggling with severe mental illness, likely schizophrenia. He’s erratic. He’s playful in a way that’s terrifying for a monarch. He treats his new queen like a nuisance.

Enter Mads Mikkelsen.

Mikkelsen plays Struensee, a German doctor who is a man of the Enlightenment. He reads Rousseau and Voltaire in secret. He wants to change the world. When he is hired to look after the King, he doesn't just treat him; he befriends him. He becomes the power behind the throne. And then, because this is a royal drama, he starts an affair with the Queen.

The stakes here aren't just "getting caught." It’s high treason. If they are found out, it’s not just a divorce or a scandal in the tabloids. It’s the executioner's block. The film captures that tension perfectly. You feel the walls closing in on them as they try to modernize Denmark—abolishing torture, ending censorship, and vaccinating children—all while hiding a secret that could end their lives.

Why the Film Works Better Than Most History Books

History books can be dry. They list dates. They mention that Struensee passed over 1,000 decrees in less than two years. But A Royal Affair makes you understand why those decrees mattered. It shows the filth of 18th-century Copenhagen. It shows the cruelty of the nobility who wanted to keep the peasants in the mud.

Arcel’s direction is surgical. He avoids the "shaky cam" of modern action movies but keeps the camera close enough to the actors that you see every bead of sweat.

One thing most people get wrong about this story is the role of King Christian. In many retellings, he’s just a side character or a villain. But Følsgaard, who won Best Actor at the Berlin International Film Festival for this role, makes him deeply sympathetic. He’s a victim of a system that demands he be a god when he can barely be a man. He loves Struensee. He trusts him. That betrayal—Struensee sleeping with the King’s wife—is the emotional core that makes the political downfall so painful to watch.

The Enlightenment on Screen

We often talk about "freedom of speech" as this abstract concept. In the movie, you see it born in real-time. Struensee uses his influence over the King to bypass the conservative Council of State. He basically stages a silent coup.

It’s fascinating to watch a man try to do the right thing for the wrong reasons, or perhaps the right things in the wrong way. Struensee is arrogant. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone else in the room. Usually, he is. But he underestimates the power of religious tradition and the jealousy of the Dowager Queen Juliana Maria.

The film doesn't shy away from the fact that the "common people" Struensee tried to help actually hated him. They saw him as a foreign usurper who was corrupting their King. It’s a cynical, realistic look at reform. Change is hard. People often fight against their own best interests if they feel their culture is being attacked.

The Visual Language of Power

The cinematography by Rasmus Videbæk is stunning without being "pretty." The lighting feels authentic to the period—lots of candlelight and gray Nordic skies. There is a specific scene where Caroline and Struensee are dancing at a masquerade ball. They think they are hidden behind masks, but the chemistry is so thick that the whole room seems to notice.

It’s a masterclass in acting. Alicia Vikander was a relatively new face to international audiences when this came out, but you can see the powerhouse she would become. She plays Caroline not as a victim, but as an intellectual peer to Struensee. She’s the one pushing for more radical reforms. She’s the one who realizes that their time is running out.

What Really Happened vs. The Movie

While the film is largely accurate, it does condense time. The real-life events spanned several years, but the movie makes it feel like a whirlwind. Also, the real Christian VII was probably even more incapacitated than the film suggests.

There’s a common misconception that the affair was purely about lust. Most historians who have studied the letters and the period suggest there was a genuine intellectual meeting of the minds. Caroline Matilda was highly educated and bored to tears by the Danish court. Struensee was the only person who talked to her like a human being.

The ending—and this isn't a spoiler if you know history—is brutal. It has to be. The film doesn't give you a Hollywood "happily ever after" because the 1770s didn't give one to these people.

How to Watch and What to Look For

If you are planning to watch A Royal Affair, or if you're revisiting it, pay attention to the sound design. The silence in the palace is heavy. It emphasizes how isolated these three people are from the rest of the world.

The film is currently available on various streaming platforms like Amazon Prime, Hulu, or Magnolia Selects, depending on your region. It’s worth the subtitles. Honestly, after ten minutes, you forget you’re even reading them because the performances are so physical.

Essential Takeaways for Film Lovers

  • Watch for the subtle power shifts: Notice how Struensee slowly moves from standing behind the King to sitting beside him, and eventually, standing in front of him.
  • The costume transition: Look at how Caroline Matilda’s wardrobe changes. She starts in bright, restrictive English silks and moves toward darker, more practical Danish attire as she gains political agency.
  • The ending's legacy: Remember that although the coup failed, the ideas Struensee planted didn't die. His reforms were eventually reinstated by Christian’s son, Frederick VI.

Moving Beyond the Screen

If this film sparks an interest in Danish history or the Enlightenment, there are several ways to dig deeper without getting bogged down in boring textbooks.

  1. Read "The Visit of the Royal Physician": This novel by Per Olov Enquist served as a major inspiration for the film’s tone. It’s a bit more experimental in its writing style but captures the psychological state of the characters brilliantly.
  2. Research the 1772 Coup: Look into the role of Count Rantzau. The film simplifies some of the political players, but the real-life betrayal was even more complex and involved a larger web of disgruntled nobles.
  3. Visit Copenhagen (Virtually or In-Person): Many of the locations mentioned in the film, like Christiansborg Palace, can still be visited. While the original palace burned down, the ruins of the era are still accessible.
  4. Compare with "The Favourite": If you liked the political maneuvering in A Royal Affair, watch Yorgos Lanthimos's The Favourite. It’s a much more absurd, darkly comedic take on royal power, but it covers similar themes of proximity to the throne.

The legacy of A Royal Affair isn't just that it’s a good movie. It’s a reminder that progress is usually messy, and those who try to change the world often pay a heavy price. It’s a beautiful, tragic, and essential piece of European cinema.