The Queen (2006)

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31 August 1997. We all know where we were when we heard the news. It was our generation’s JFK. Or John Lennon. In London the scent of the flowers left for Diana at the gates of Buckingham Palace was overpowering, stretching out to the west, as far as Heathrow Airport. Peter Morgan’s screenplay grasps the nettle of this story’s symbolism – Diana the huntress, hounded to her death. The Queen, a hunter, hiding out in Balmoral. And he extends the symbolism to the hunting of a stag whom she finally feels is a kindred spirit and who is wounded by an investment banker on a neighbouring estate and fatally shot in order to be relieved of his agonies by the proprietor’s men. The knotty issue of Queen Elizabeth II’s controversial response to her former daughter in law’s death in Paris is teased out both on this dramatic cord and that between her and her new Prime Minister, freshly elected Tony Blair (and boy was that a moment). “She hated her guts,” declares Cherie Blair while her husband wrestles with a public announcement which will culminate in his famous speech written by Alastair Campbell, with the line ‘the People’s Princess.’ “”They screwed up her life, let’s hope they don’t screw up her death,” Tony says to Cherie. Prince Charles wants a private jet to take Diana home. The family objects. Ironically he fears being shot, such is the growing public anger to which the Queen and Prince Philip appear oblivious on their 40,000 acre Scottish hunting estate. It’s a private family matter as far as they’re concerned. Roger Allam as Robin Janvrin the Queen’s secretary, plays go-between as the staff at Number 10 try to deal with the mounting crisis, with daily newspaper headlines and TV vox pops expressing public distress at the Queen’s failure to appear in London or even to raise a flag at half mast. “One in four,” muses the Queen when she hears how many people want the monarchy to end. “I’ve never been hated like that before.” How the compromise is reached between this model of royal restraint and the arriviste smiling moderniser is masterfully accomplished with a brisk, clean style effectively delivered by Stephen Frears. And, as Cherie Blair whoops, “At the end of the day, all Labour Prime Ministers go gaga for the Queen.” Witty, sharp, smart as anything and goodness what a time it was, as the extremely well chosen archive clips remind us. Helen Mirren won the Academy Award for a particularly well observed performance. Peter Morgan continues to write about the Royals, to some acclaim! And Mirren continues to play the Queen now and then. But the elephant in the room of course is the absent woman at the drama’s centre – and what a shadow the People’s Princess has left. A considerable achievement in all respects.

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The BFG (2016)

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Orphan Sophie is taken from her bed by the BFG (Mark Rylance) whose language is a mangled and funny take on the Queen’s English. She goes back to his cave where he is the runt of a gaggle of giants who like to eat human beans and she’s in danger when Fleshlumpeater sniffs her out. They must make their way to the Queen to stop other children disappearing … Roald Dahl’s work is much loved and the combo of Melissa Mathison with Steven Spielberg (many years after their classic work, ET) seemed like a surefire winner. Everything’s personal but I don’t like the way this has been made: the dark style (in every sense), the look of the villainous giant (way too lifelike but in the wrong way), and the scale seemed to vary from scene to scene; when the giants are outside BFG’s cave they’re one size, inside they’re another. It adds to the other problems. It’s not particularly funny and a lot of the lingo is gone. The magic is diluted into the dreamblowing effects instead of the relationship with Sophie and it’s at its considerable best at Buckingham Palace when the Queen (Penelope Wilton giving it welly), her corgis, the heads of the Army and her staff experience whizzpopping – and she is quite amused. There are odd performances here – the child (Ruby Barnhill) isn’t the most attractive or talented we’ve ever seen, Rafe Spall as a member of the Queen’s household is sporting a very weird accent, Rylance is alright and thankfully unlike Bridge of Spies where his vocal performance ruined the film, he manages to stay in tune with the character.The Fleshlumpeater is misjudged and comes off like a big giant paedophile. Frankly a misfiring disappointment from such stellar talent.