Queen, The
dir: Stephen Frears
Ah Betty, you always were a hottie
Of the films from 2006 that I got to enjoy, the least likely ended up being one of the most enjoyable as well. I never would have thought a film about a reigning monarch, an ambitious prime minister and the death of a celebrity princess could have held my interest for more than scant seconds at a time whilst flicking through Women’s Weekly magazine. The Queen not only managed to hold my attention, but kept me riveted and even entertained. Grizzled, cynical old me.
Let me admit from the start that I am profoundly republican in my political sensibilities (note that there’s a little ‘r’ there) when it comes to preferring monarchies or elected heads of state. And my thoughts towards the current reigning Queen of England and her in-bred family are quite succinctly summed up by the Sex Pistols, God Save the Queen, except without the stunning level of insight and social commentary.
And as for the former and dearly departed Princess Diana, the people’s princess, the queen of hearts; I have about as much respect for her as I do for any of the Hilton sisters or any vacuous celebrity who sullies this planet with their sheer pointlessness. I, similar to some of the characters in this flick, cannot for the life of me understand why people around the world went insane with grief over this woman.
And yet this film’s core plays around the occasion of her death and the impact it has over the course of the week, and is certainly not the weaker for it.
Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) has just been elected in a landslide sweep casting out the loathed Tories. Officially, it is incumbent upon him to grovel before the current monarch, Queen Elizabeth “Betty” II (Helen Mirren) and be found suitable before forming government. She is officious and prim in her duties, he is nervous and overly-friendly.
None of it really matters, but we are introduced initially into the queen’s world of formality and custom, and the more practical realm of the newly anointed prime minister. He is idealistic and excited about the work he intends to carry out on Britain, and is ably supported by his whip-smart but cynical wife Cherie (Helen McCrory) and his Machiavellian advisor Alastair Campbell (Mark Bazeley).
When August 31, 1997 rocks around, the world as the PM and Queen have previously known it ends. Though it takes them a week or so to realise it.
Diana’s death in a Paris tunnel, possibly at the instigation of the CIA, ASIO and space aliens, which are some of the saner conspiracy theories I’ve heard, unleashes upon the world an explosion of people throwing ashes upon their heads and rending their garments. Insane levels of public and private grief.
When the Royal Family finds out, Charles (Alex Jennings) is bereft, but the rest seem almost relieved that Diana is dead. And who can blame them. Her antics, or her mere existence had emboldened the frenzied press into following her every belch, wink and fart, and was the pinnacle of the media’s love affair / stalking obsession with the royals. They fed a seemingly inexhaustible desire on the public’s part to know every single thing that happened to these worthless people, for which the public wanted inexplicably more. The competition between magazines led to incredible sums being paid for ‘candid’ shots, which in turn fuelled the desire of photographers to go that one step further in pursuit of the perfectly embarrassing pic.
Diana herself used the media to her own ends, and fell victim to its double-edged sword/cliché in a bloody and horrible way. So the public, the media and the people’s pillock, sorry, princess all combined to end her days where they ended: in a screaming wreck.
Though not specifically glad, the Queen becomes mystified at the reaction of the British public at Diana’s death. She seems to think that the public, deep down, shares her opinion of Diana, and that after a suitable period of mourning (i.e. a few nanoseconds) the planet will return to spinning on its regular axis.
It’s not that she doesn’t get it: it’s that she can’t get it. I just used a triple negative in that sentence, which I guess trumps the grammatical dictum that you shouldn’t not use no double negatives never.
The Queen, as she gradually realises, doesn’t really have the pulse of her people. She doesn’t understand why the people are so upset at her deliberate decision not to comfort them, or why they’re upset at Diana’s passing, because she and her family live at such an Olympian remove from her subjects.
Of course this would come as no surprise to us, but it’s still fascinating to watch how the family deals with it. Prince Phillip (James Cromwell), infamous for his social gaffs and verbal blunders is every bit the fumbling old idiot you expect him to be, comically referring to the royal family’s predicament whilst holed up at their Scottish retreat Balmoral, as reminding him of ‘one of those wars, you know, with all the Zulus”. Ah, Phillip, you’re so dependable.
They exist at such a remove from reality, ensconced as they are within privilege and empty pomp and ceremony that we are meant to marvel at them as if they were an alien family plucked from a distant world and plonked down in the Scottish Highlands.
As such it falls to Blair to, at first, exploit the situation and make himself the most popular figure in Britain at a stage perfectly timed to shore up his position in the public’s mind and in the press. But then he has the more progressively difficult task to try to convince the queen to save herself before the harm becomes irrevocable.
Every part of this flick it is superbly acted and staged, with everyone’s shortcomings and virtues (if they possess them) eventually coming to the fore. You eventually forget that you’re watching an actress playing the Queen, a figure you’d think would be too recognisable for such to happen, and presto, you’re watching the Queen trying to muddle through one of the most difficult weeks of her life.
Michael Sheen as Blair also does remarkably well as the more media savvy PM, but does well enough to neither make himself look too saintly, nor too cynical in an age and environment practically begging for it. His pity for the queen eventually becomes quite affecting.
Such a low key film doesn’t have bravura moments or big screaming climaxes, but a few scenes stick out. The Queen, after her car conks out whilst driving around her 40,000 acre estate, spots a regal-looking deer that regards her from the sort of distance she regards humanity. Blair defends the queen in a strong scene, surprising everyone including himself. The Queen Mother (Sylvia Syms) laments out loud that the plan for her funeral, that she painstakingly planned herself, will be used for Diana’s. There are a few others, but overall they cohere into a pleasing enough whole.
The film looks okay, and has an energy and light touch that belies its subject matter, in that it is a far more humorous film than you’d think. That being said, regardless of the plaudits it has received, and all the awards that notorious strumpet Helen Mirren has and will receive (including the inevitable Best Actress Oscar), this really isn’t a barnstormer of a flick. Let me put it this way: no-one’s going to get laid as a result of taking someone to watch this flick.
It’s engaging, wry, amusing at turns and smart, but that doesn’t get the blood pumping. It’s a nice flick to take your mum to, which, you know, puts it up there with Blood Sucking Freaks and Salo: 120 Days of Sodom.
Where were you when you found out Diana died? Were you in bed, sleeping off a wicked hangover, and cheering when your girlfriend told you like I was, or were you in church, as was appropriate on such a Sunday morning, and your heart caught in your mouth? Or were you still in primary school? Wherever you were, you can relive that crazy time by watching this excellent film and by sharing in the Queen, your sovereign’s, joy and heartbreak.
7.5 times I was hankering for the Queen to scream “Bloody Peasants!” at her disloyal subjects out of 10
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Betty: What did she say?
Prince Philip: Something about Diana managing to be more annoying dead than alive – too true, too true, The Queen.
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