2013's Belle is a love story—but perhaps not the kind you think (though it is about that too). The story follows the illegitimate, mixed-race daughter of a British Admiral, Dido Elizabeth Belle (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), navigating life and love as a Black woman in the aristocracy. Pulling no punches, the film's opening scenes telegraph exactly the kind of story this is going to be. After a fraught exchange between Dido's father, Sir John Lindsay (played by Matthew Goode, looking fine as hell) and his family, Sir Lindsay is admonished for not only fathering a Black child but expecting his family to raise that child while he returns to his duties to the Royal Navy. They tell him such a scenario is impossible to which he responds, "What is right can never can be impossible."
Left alone with the child, Sir Lindsay kneels down to the daughter he must now leave behind. "You are my blood," he says. "Know that you are loved." He gives her the surname Lindsay, making it clear that despite the social norms and despite the law, she is his heir. And it's in these opening moments that the film cleverly and creatively frames its take on love as both a structuring principle of Dido's story and guiding light for her understanding of justice.
I Know Very Little of Her
It began with a painting, a double portrait of Dido Elizabeth Belle and Lady Elizabeth Murray. The two elegant af 18th-century women are dripping in silks and pearls at Kenwood House in London. And just behind them, a glimpse of a majestic Georgian cityscape. There's nothing unusual about the painting, except one thing—Dido is mixed race. And the beautiful brown woman is featured not below or subservient to but right beside a white aristocrat.
There's very little known of Dido except that she was the daughter of Sir John Lindsay, a Navy Captain, and Maria Belle, an African woman (and possibly former slave) captured from a Spanish ship in the Caribbean. At some point as a child, Dido was sent to England by Lindsay and raised at Kenwood House by her childless great-aunt and great-uncle, Lord and Lady Mansfield, along with her cousin, Lady Elizabeth Murray.
Dido had the misfortune of living at a time when the transatlantic slave trade was not only at its height, but Britain’s economy relied on it. And from about 1756 to 1788, Dido’s great-uncle was Lord Chief Justice, the most powerful judge in England, and a man who had a vested interest in slavery as he presided over a number of court cases that examined the legality of the slave trade. One of the most significant of these was a case colloquially (now officially) known as the "Zong" case (which you should definitely read more about)—a real, historical case in which nearly 150 captured Africans were purposefully purged from a ship, its Captain finding the insurance he'd collect from the purge more profitable than the sum total of the "cargo". The case before the court was an insurance case in which Lord Mansfield would have to decide if this "loss" of “cargo” should be covered by insurance under British Law. While the case didn't lead directly to the abolishment of slavery in Britain, its highly publicized nature did give Abolitionists the fuel they needed to gain momentum as the story of the Zong became a focal feature of Abolitionist literature.
In his later career, Lord Mansfield was considered somewhat of a controversial figure (for the time), with his contemporaries constantly worrying that his affection for Dido was influencing his opinions on slavery. In his will, he made sure to protect his niece, stating outright that Dido was a free woman. Period. Which was low-key baller.
*SPOILERS FOR "BELLE" (2013) FROM THIS POINT*
Too High in Rank to Dine With the Servants but Too Low to Dine With My Family
What makes director Amma Asante's Belle so unique—as far as period romances go—is how it balances these events with Dido's coming-of-age. The first loves of her life we, the audience, are introduced to are familial. First, with her father's tenderness. Then, her cousin's affection.
The film takes its first turn when Dido and Elizabeth venture to London for Elizabeth's coming out. (Dido isn't allowed to come out because she's too wealthy for Black suitors yet too Black for white suitors) Without cute boys to distract her (yet), Dido spends her time in London learning as much as she can about the Zong case which begins to radically alter her worldview. And as her understanding of it becomes clearer so too does the nature of her position in her great-uncle's household.
No one is one note in Assante's world. The film establishes early on that while Dido’s family certainly loves her, they too can't fully escape the prejudices of oppression. There's one scene in particular that chokes me every time: When Dido tries to inform her cousin that she was physically assaulted by the man Elizabeth wants to marry, Elizabeth essentially tells her that her beau would never dare touch her "because of her color". (Don't worry, Dido gets some jabs in too.) Yet, in a testament to just how complex familial bonds can be, despite this falling out, Dido and Elizabeth's love for one another is unwavering. When Elizabeth faces rejection from the very man Dido warned her against, Dido doesn't take the opportunity to flex. Instead, she embraces her cousin with her whole self.
One Does Not Make a Wife of the Rare and Exotic
Ok, let's get into what you really came for: the love interest. Or I should say the love interests since there are two; the lighthearted and kind yet socially superior and slightly classist Oliver Ashford (James Norton), and the radical Abolitionist clerking for Dido’s great-uncle, John Davinier (Sam Reid).
We meet Oliver when he's introduced to Dido after having dinner with her family—she's not permitted at the table when there are guests. He and his brother James (Draco Malfoy, malfoying it up) confine themselves to a corner of the parlor, whispering and staring at Dido as though they've just spotted the last Black unicorn. Oliver immediately fetishizes her, stating that she's a "rare and exotic thing". He seems intrigued by the mere idea of being with a Black woman. (Probably doesn't hurt that she looks like Gugu Mbatha-Raw...just saying) But his mother shoots him down, giving him those classic, mom "don't even think about it" eyes. It's only when she discovers that Dido is basically the Paris Hilton of Georgian England—set to inherit a fat ass fortune—that she begins to treat Dido with any level of kindness, false as it may be.
John Davinier's initial interactions with Dido are near opposite. Their first meeting is contemptuous and becomes more so when he questions why she isn't permitted to have dinner with her family. Despite finding him rude, she musters the courage to probe him for information about the Zong case, since her great-uncle won't talk to her about it. He listens, answering rather than dodging her questions. Simple by modern day standards, sure, but by 18th century standards it's a huge sign of respect...and basically foreplay.
The push and pull between the two men is so interesting to me. Typically, in these types of films, one is clearly unsuitable (a la Mr. Collins) and the other is a stud (a la Mr. Darcy). But that's not the case here. Their differences are subtle—subtle in the way they each interact with Dido and how she responds to them. With Oliver, Dido seems to be playing the part of someone grateful to be courted at all, let alone by a white man, as anything less would make her come off as a snob. Oliver compliments her often, but the compliments are unintentionally backhanded, like telling Dido to ignore what people say about her mother since her "better half", i.e. her white half, is so much better.
Meanwhile, with John, most of their interactions aren't romantic at all. They just talk. About life and her experiences and the case (she starts to fake sick during her days in London to sneak away to learn more from him). And it's easy to see how much more relaxed she is. How much more she laughs. And how much more talkative she is; Dido is naturally curious, and Oliver feeds that curiosity. And as the first person to see Dido as embodying her mother’s beauty rather than inheriting her father’s wealth, what he's serving up is pretty damn tasty.
The film comes to its romantic climax when Dido remarks to John that while she doesn't have to get married, she'd still like to. "What is a woman with no husband," she says. "It seems silly. A free negro who begs for a master." A direct response to her cousin noting that Dido is lucky to not be obligated to marry since it reduces a woman to nothing more than the property of a man. John responds "Unless she marries her equal. Her true equal." And it's through his words Dido realizes Oliver Ashford will never see her as an equal. Only as a conquest and as an enigma.
I Don't Know That I Find Myself Anywhere
The greatest love story of Belle—and its greatest triumph—is its portrayal of love of self. Early on there's this gut-wrenching scene in which Dido sits at a mirror and tries to rub the color off her skin, as she's just faced a barrage of constant reminders that her melanin will always be an obstacle for her. While her great-uncle, who at first vehemently refuses to raise a “mulatto” softens throughout the film, he remains reluctant to let Dido in on the realities of slavery, or even acknowledge her own Blackness. But Dido slowly becomes more comfortable challenging her great-uncle—often by referring to the Zong case as a fraud case rather than an insurance one. And by doing so, she's not only finding her voice but coming into an understanding of her own personhood. It's not just society that won't let her forget her Blackness, but herself. By the end of the film, it's no longer a source of shame, but a mark of pride. Perfectly illustrated in her climactic speech in which she turns down Oliver's proposal (aka the greatest speech in cinematic history...suck it Braveheart):
"You view my circumstances as unfortunate. Though I cannot claim even a fraction of the misfortune of those I most closely resemble. My greatest misfortune would be to marry into a family who would carry me as their shame. As I have been forced to carry my own mother. Her apparent crime to be born negro. And mine to be the evidence...You will pardon me for wanting a husband who feels forgiveness of my bloodline is both unnecessary and without grace."
18th century Mic. Drop.
What Is Right Can Never Be Impossible
Understandably, some might take issue with the film's glossier portrayal of the era (rather than the grittier—often torturous—version Steve McQueen's 12 Years a Slave presents). But because the film sets itself in an isolated, self sufficient manor, I find its treatment appropriate. The film, like many period dramas, is a romance after all. And a romantic portrayal of the era isn't exactly uncommon. And I just can't agree that just because the film stars a woman of color in a less than savory time period for women of color, means it must pause in the middle of all its love and beauty for an endless festival of whippings and mistreatment. Belle is no 12 years a Slave. But it also isn't trying to be. The case of the Zong slave ship is simply an undercurrent to Dido gaining a renewed sense of self—one that understands both halves of herself in tandem rather than in opposition.
This intertwining of love and justice, private and public, personal and political, all solidify the film’s structural brilliance. It's a costume drama, a courtroom drama, a swoony romance, and by the end they all collide and burst and become something else entirely. After her pivotal role in her great-uncle’s change of heart, him ultimately ruling against the Slaver's claim in the final Zong verdict (both in the film and irl), Dido proposes to John just outside the Inns of Court. And it's almost as if the film is purposefully echoing American philosopher, political activist, and social critic Cornel West’s assertion that “justice is what love looks like in public.”
4/5 ⭐: All the romantic feels with a dash of social consciousness.
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