The Queen (2006) is not a historical recreation of the week following Princess Di’s death. It has it’s own plot and it’s own theme. If you miss these, you’ll think the film nothing more than a news reel. One of my favourite film critics, James Berardinelli, unfortunate writes, “There’s not much plot to speak of, but it gives actors an opportunity to shine.” Well, “plot” usually means action, but if the story is one of character development, then the plot becomes the change in the character(s). The plot here is how the Queen painfully shifts from her traditional approach to Di’s death and funeral to a modern approach. The theme of the movie is to ask whether this is a good thing. Technically, the Queen is absolutely right in her original position. Diana was no longer a member of the royal family; consequently, the funeral was a private matter, not a public event. The flag was not flying over the palace because the flag was the royal family’s signal that they were at home, and they were not at home but rather in Scotland mourning. Yet the public declared the lack of a flag an insult. Not incidentally, the Queen and the rest of the royal family knew Diana quite well, while almost none of the thousands of grief-stricken mourners had even met her—except through the distorted lens of the press. Yet as pressure mounted, the Queen slowly agreed to take Prime Minister Blair’s advice and come down to London, be seen as empathetic, and give a eulogistic speech. If you are, say, a young person in the greatest popular democracy on earth, you probably think the answer to the movie’s thematic question is such a no brainer that it’s not worth asking: Of course the Queen should respond to the wishes of the people, thousands of people crying their eyes out, showering the palace gates with bouquets, and calling for kind words about “the people’s princess.” On the other hand, if you are an older person in a more traditional country, you will find it deeply regrettable that an honourable person can be completely in the right and yet be forced by the press and a mob mentality to admit that she is wrong. The film gains added depth because the new prime minister, Tony Blair, learns from the Queen as she learns from him. He empathizes with her, and through his eyes we are guided to empathize as well. His increasing understanding contrasts with his communications officer who sees everything in terms of scoring points and also contrasts with his wife’s more doctrinaire left-wing views. The movie deserved its Academy Award nominations for Original Screenplay (40-year old Peter Morgan), Best Director (65-year old Stephen Frears), and overall Best Picture, as well as Helen Mirren’s win for Best Actress. But the nomination for Best Costumes seems misplaced. The costumes, which should have been dead easy to do, were too blatant, saying, “Look at me! I’m symbolic of . . .” Some of the Queen’s outfits cried out, “I’m dowdy.” When you see her in public or see pictures of her, she does not appear this way, so the movie is making a point of using the costumes to enhance the characterization and the theme. This is well and good except that we already know from the Queen’s rigid face, clipped speech, frosty relations, sense of duty, and stiff upper lip, what kind of a person she is. We know that the royal family is out-of-touch with the ordinary folks when the lads get over their grief by stalking a stag to kill it. We don’t need to see them in neatly pressed kilts. In contrast to the dubious costumes, Alexandre Desplat’s musical score is superb—varying widely in style but always enhancing the scene and sometimes making the scene.
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