There are some artists whose legacies are so incredibly strong that they linger in the ether long after their passing. It’s not surprising that Derek Jarman continues to be discussed as one of the most incredibly gifted and original voices of his generation, his work on stage and screen continuing to be the source of inspiration, both to the many collaborators who worked alongside him and to the countless people who have been able to engage with his work in its various forms. As is often the case with iconoclastic filmmakers, pinpointing a precise choice for his greatest work is a fool’s errand, since over a career that produced just under a dozen films, Jarman made it very clear that his talents could not just be filtered into one specific project, and that every endeavour was an opportunity to expand on his vision. However, perhaps his most celebrated work (or at least the one most frequently cited as amongst his greatest achievements) is Edward II, his postmodern adaptation of Christopher Marlowe’s play, which explores the rise and fall of the titular king, whose libertine lifestyle and tendency towards excess made him a divisive figure, both within his own court and amongst their allies, who looked upon him with a combination of scorn and amusement, not being aware that the king was very much conscious of how he was perceived, which only compelled him to embrace his eccentricities even more. Jarman, as we would expect, does bring quite a unique perspective to the material, adapting Edward II into something far more subversive than any of his peers would’ve even dared to consider, which is all part of the fascinating approach taken to bring this classical text to life. Offbeat but never too eccentric for its own good, and anchored by both tremendous performances and strong direction, the film is a masterful example of how a simple premise can be spun into something truly exceptional when the right approach is taken.

Over the course of his illustrious (although tragically quite short) career, there were a few key thematic elements that seemed to be of most interest to Jarman, weaving their way into nearly every one of his films, often in ways that many of us may not have expected based on the subject matter. In the case of Edward II, we see the director crafting another fascinating deconstruction of identity, with queerness being the primary theme that he intends to explore throughout this film. As one of the most radical queer filmmakers to ever work in the medium, Jarman had a unique perspective and the desire to push beyond the boundaries that the industry had set when it came to these stories, and part of this involved looking for places within cherished works that would be redefined to take on a deeper meaning. Not many filmmakers can so effectively craft something that takes a text written four hundred years ago, and filters it through an unapologetically queer lens, while also maintaining the general conceit of the material, to the point where it doesn’t lose its intended meaning but actually builds on it. It’s a fascinating approach that feels so much fresher and insightful when handled by someone who knew exactly what he was doing when adapting a play that initially intended to be a scathing indictment on the excess of the ruling class, and redefining it as a queer story. It does help that there was certainly some gay subtext present in Marlowe’s original play (to the point where Jarman doesn’t even need to do too much rewriting here), and the director simply had to rework it slightly to make these elements more obvious and clear, which is exactly the approach that many filmmakers whose entire purpose is to challenge the medium take when working with such seemingly unwieldy texts, which are often in need of fresher and more unique perspectives to underline some of their more interesting qualities.

If there was ever a filmmaker who we could be absolutely assured will never deliver anything even vaguely uninteresting or conventional, it would be Jarman, who spent his entire career challenging the artistic status quo in ways that are inconceivable even by contemporary standards. As inarguably one of the great postmodern artists and scholars to ever work in the medium, he spent every opportunity attempting to unpack the many nuances of certain topics, leading to some thrilling works that are not only narratively brilliant but also exceptionally well-crafted and unique in their execution. Edward II is not an exception, with the choices the director makes in bringing this story to the screen being nothing short of exquisite. Rather than setting the film in the era in which the events took place, or updating it to a modern setting, the director chooses to go in an entirely different direction, situating the film in some peculiar liminal space, one that is suspended from time and logic, which only further highlights the more peculiar ideas being explored throughout the story. The art of adaptation is one that we don’t often see explored in detail, with too many of us just blindly accepting certain artistic decisions without questioning the motivation behind them. Jarman’s films do not lend themselves to passive viewing, since the audience is forced to engage with the material on a much deeper level, and his style does not make it any easier to overlook the many complex details that define the work. Everything from the production design (with most of the film seemingly being shot in a large, abandoned industrial space) and the costuming, to the composition of each shot and the colours used to bring everything to life, makes Edward II an extraordinarily engaging experience, a film that we don’t solely watch, but find ourselves weaving our way through a narrative labyrinth that conceals so many intriguing secrets that gradually makes themselves more evident as the film progresses.

Throughout his career, Jarman came to be associated not only with his abstract and offbeat approach to exploring the past through a decidedly queer lens, but also for the incredible ensemble of collaborators he brought together over the years. Many of the most respected actors working today credit Jarman with starting their careers, since it was his tendency to create memorable roles and casting them with actors who could realise the more unconventional vision that defined their early careers. In the case of Edward II, we’ve got a number of terrific performances, each one a masterful example of his incredible command of actors in practice. The titular part is played by Steven Waddington, who fully commits to portraying the king as a self-centred hedonist with a chip on his shoulder and an abundance of power that he doesn’t know how to handle, which is contrasted perfectly by Andrew Tiernan as Pier Gaveston, the man with which he is having a torrid love affair, and who eventually reveals himself to be the person pulling the strings behind the entire empire. It’s a fascinating set of performances that are entirely dedicated to capturing the more unconventional qualities of the film, without pushing too far that it becomes too overwhelming, but instead straddling the line between hypnotic and grotesque. However, the true star of the film, and perhaps the primary reason to seek out Edward II outside of Jarman’s unique vision, is Tilda Swinton, who does some of her best work under his direction (although she consistently cites him as arguably her biggest artistic influence, so it isn’t surprising that he harnessed one of her greatest performances), playing the enigmatic Isabella with a blend of malice and charm, the kind that only someone as committed to their craft as Swinton could achieve without resorting to excess. It’s a tremendous ensemble that aligns perfectly with what the director intended, bringing these complex roles to the screen with precision and intensity.

When confronted with a film like Edward II, it is natural to feel somewhat overwhelmed, since this is by no means an easy film, both narratively and in terms of its execution, both of which are intentionally quite challenging. It is the kind of work in which every frame seems to be filled to the brim with meaning, leading us to attempt to understand absolutely everything, in fear of missing important clues to the deeper message that guides this film. However, as is often the case with Jarman and his more experimental approach, the best way to watch Edward II is to surrender any intention of understanding absolutely everything, and instead just embrace the more peculiar and unconventional nature of the narrative. We need to approach the film as less of a linear story, and more of an atmospheric mood piece, a work that defies logic and instead pursues something more profound, the kind of sensation that only exists once we part with our innate tendency to make certain connection and rather following the more abstract, dreamlike structure, which makes the film so much more compelling while also offering something much deeper and more profound once we aren’t so focused on every intricate detail. It’s one of Jarman’s more intense and unnerving films, but nevertheless still proves to be exceptionally beautiful, having a subtle sincerity that cannot be mimicked or manufactured, since so much of it relies on the audience being able to engage with the film on a deeper and more dedicated level. As a whole, Edward II is a fascinating and provocative film that emphasises Jarman’s incredible mastery of his craft, as well as his ability to challenge us to think beyond the obvious and engage with something much deeper and more profound than many of the similarly-themed period dramas that choose to be staid and bland, rather than taking the opportunity to be absolutely radical, which is one of the many reasons we can celebrate this film as one of the crowning achievements in Jarman’s astonishing and essential career.