My parents grew up in the turbulent sixties, when tragedies such as the
deaths of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. seemed to occur
with alarming frequency, riveting a nation whenever they did. By the
time I came along in 1981, things had settled down somewhat, so there
are few single newsworthy events from the last two decades of the 20th
century that stand out in my memory. The death of Princess Diana is one
of those. I couldn't ever remember having seen so many people so
overwhelmed with anguish, and though I hadn't previously paid that much
attention to the affairs of the royals, I found myself very emotionally
involved. I suspect that was the case for many.
Now that a
decade has passed, a film about the extraordinary events of that week
can be viewed with some detachment, though I was flooded with memories
as I watched The Queen, the drama about how stodgy Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren)
and freshly minted Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) dealt with
the unprecedented outpouring of grief over the terrible accident. The
movie utilizes clips of press coverage from the time but mostly focuses
on what was happening behind the scenes.
Mirren gives a
wonderfully understated performance as the queen who helped bring her
country through World War II and has remained a dignified and
intelligent figurehead all these decades later. Initially, she comes
across as unreasonably stiff, but she soon becomes a laudable figure
struggling to remain relevant in a rapidly changing world. And she's not
all starch and pomp, either; I was surprised to see her driving a
sporty vehicle and tromping around in the countryside with her dogs. In
the end, the portrait we get of the queen is a very sympathetic one,
despite her sometimes frustrating degree of restraint.
Tony
Blair comes off even better, and while Sheen doesn't look all that much
like him, he captures his energy and optimism. We watch him try to come
to terms with the monarchy's lack of interest in engaging with the
public during what he increasingly perceives as a national crisis.
Though he desperately wants the queen to acknowledge the mood of the
country, he is disgusted by the way the people have turned on their
monarch, slamming her in all of the papers. Even his wife (Helen
McCrory) rarely has a kind word for her, speaking of her much like Mrs.
Cratchit speaks of Ebenezer Scrooge. Indeed, of all the characters
featured in prominence, she came across as the least likable, always
sniping about something. It was not a flattering portrayal.
Prince Philip (James Cromwell), meanwhile, was presented as a
cantankerous old grump, but one can hardly blame him; if the queen feels
like an anachronism, poor Prince Philip must feel downright invisible
most of the time. While I merely found Cherie Blair obnoxious, the
prince was somehow endearing in the midst of all his grumbling, partly
because I've loved Cromwell ever since Babe, partly because it's obvious that he cares deeply about his family, even if he has a hard time openly displaying his emotions.
Prince Charles (Alex Jennings), deeply bereaved despite the dissolution
of his marriage to Diana a year earlier, seems like a lost little boy
attempting, in the midst of his own sorrow, to address the needs of his
people and to assert himself to his authoritarian mother, while the
queen's advisor, Robert Janvrin (Roger Allam), gradually comes to
understand that on this matter, the queen's instincts may not serve her
as well as they usually do. Meanwhile, the feisty Queen Mum (Sylvia
Sims) observes all the goings-on, and as she complains that no one ever
lets her know what's happening, she completes the family dynamic and
it's easy to see the Windsors are not so different from the rest of us
after all.
This is a beautiful film that offers an intimate look at a private family in the public eye. Long live The Queen!
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