I AM not fond of royalties; we shouldn’t be.
We created them, or, rather, the class structures we support have constructed the platform for the destinies of these individuals who end up as kings and queens. In the end, we are left to be fascinated by them, to be in awe of these persons who treat us as nonpersons. Believe me, there’s no more existential question than asking why we need royalties.
On such fascination can be found the premise and power of the award-winning Netflix series The Crown. The obsession we have for these powerful and attractive individuals who are detached from our common lives is fed by the back stories—and the back-stabbing—behind the thrones and the corridors of gilded strength
If there is a novelty in The Crown, it is that it spares us of the usual focus on the golden details about castles and scepters and capes. What the series offers, and this I like, is the intense aim to make the royalties look like ordinary people with unusual problems. They are afflicted not by poverty but the lack of it or even the absent knowledge that there are people who have to work for their pennies. The sense of entitlement that somehow we, as regular citizens, criticize ourseves for having, are given in the case of royalties. Oddly enough, the drive to humanize these privilieged royals renders them even more as almost nonhumans.
The series follows the reign of Queen Elizabeth II. Yes, she is the queen that figures in the tales already made common by Diana, Charles, Camilla, Harry and other royal figures who are all part of popular culture and gossip. The series is daunting. It tracks the life of the queen before she became this stolid, regal, quietly fierce individual.
When one follows the series, one asks the question: How do royalties react to this series? What does the Queen think of this portrayal?
Well, there is a very obvious answer. Everybody gets a bashing in the series. Winston Churchill, that man who rendered himself bigger than histories, is pictured as clinging to his post even as he is unable to run the government already. Instead of looking at the crisis of a city suffering from a crippling smog, Churchill wants to talk about the Duke of Mountbatten, the consort to the young queen, who spends his hours training as a pilot.
Churchill is told by the queen the reason for his delaying the coronation is that, he wants to remain the prime minister.
The lonesome, romantic figure of the Duke of Windsor has a vicious wit and is imagined as a vicious royal. There is a poignant scene during the coronation of Queen Elizabeth where he, with his infamous American wife, Wallis Simpson, treat their friend to an annotation of the rites. He makes fun of the proceedings but, later on, the audience sees his changed mood.
Perhaps, the memories of him as a monarch came back and he soon is defending the mystery of being crowned a monarch.
Prince Philip is portrayed as dashing but conflicted about his royal lineage. He gives up his titles as Prince of Greece and Denmark, a handsome Hamlet, so he could be married to Elizabeth, who happens to be a cousin twice removed.
If you’re a royalist, there are precious moments in the series. The new queen has to choose what name to use. She has to talk to her husband into kneeling before her during the coronation. When Philip groans about being a husband kneeling to his wife, Elizabeth has to remind him that he is kneeling not to his wife but to a person who is in direct contact with the divine at that moment with the crown.
There are too many queens in the series that one has to brush up on his European histories to better be enlightend with names and pedigree. Of all the queens , the Queen Mother, Queen Mary, stands out among them. She writes a letter to the young queen about the conflict between the wife and the queen, where the latter should always prevail. She tells Queen Elizabeth how a smile or a frown or a word can be interpreted or misinterpreted. It is thus best not to show any expression. We turn to the present queen and, somehow, we, in our mind, clarify why she is forever stolid.
There is a wonderfully gripping scene in Episode 2, when the queen has returned very quickly from a trip to Africa. The king has died and she is next in line to the throne. She flies back to England. She enters Buckingham Palace. From the end of the hallway, the Queen Mother appears, a phantasm, an apparition shrouded in black. Slowly, the Queen Mother kneels before the queen.
As Queen Mary, the German-speaking dowager, Eileen Atkins is a joy to behold and hear. She reminds you of another Dame—Dame Edith Evans, whose English is certified royal.
Edward, the Duke of Windsor, who abdicated in favor of love, as Wallis Simpson would remind him, threatened to be a major character in the person of Alex Jennings.
John Lithgow as Churchill is officious, enervating as all politicians are, but all too human. He does not walk but toddle, a giant both in physique and self-image. He is almost a decorative figure in real life now. Perhaps, that is not a fair account of who Prince Philip is, but in the portrayal of Matt Smith, the Duke of Edinburgh interests us about how a man can survive when his male ego is threatened not by the crown but by the wife who wears it.
Claire Foy as Queen Elizabeth is the real queen of this series. Don’t expect a queen with the histrionics of one who thinks queens are like that. The actress leads us back to the time the queen starts to chart her behavior and destiny, as she performs her duty and performs a character the nation and its history warranted. It is no more her strength as Queen Elizabeth that draws us to the character, than her ability to hide the vulnerabiiity and steel herself for a role that she seems to question and accept at the same time. What is the English monarchy without controversy? The first season closes with the affair of Princess Margaret.
The Crown is written by Peter Morgan, the same man behind the film The Queen, which stars Helen Mirren. The series is produced by Left Bank Pictures and Sony Pictures for Netflix.