You totally rule, Ma’am!
There’s far too much sex and f lesh. Do we really need to see Philip’s naked posterior? And, oh, the language! But, as a royal expert who’s seen EVERY episode of The Crown – the most lavish biopic ever – I’m relieved to say...
AS AN historian and author with decades of experience reading and writing about the Royal Family, it was with some trepidation that I sat down to watch all ten hours of Netflix’s eagerly awaited series, The Crown.
Costing an estimated £100million to make, it is said to be the most expensive television series ever.
Viewers are promised a lavish and beautifully filmed procession of some of England’s grandest stately homes, with sweeping views of vast marble staircases, fabulous old limousines and sumptuous costumes – not to mention some of our finest young acting talent. To get to this, however, you will have to brave an opening sequence in which we see King George VI spewing blood into a lavatory – a scene that immediately justified some of my worst fears.
The sheer tastelessness is matched only by the concluding scene which, incredibly, shows Prime Minister Anthony Eden slumped in front of burning cinefilm of former Egyptian President Nasser, having just stuck a needle full of drugs into his arm.
The first ten episodes, to be broadcast next month, follow the young Princess Elizabeth, played by Claire Foy, from her marriage to Prince Philip (Matt Smith) in 1947 to the brink of the Suez Crisis in 1956, and, along the way, forging a relationship with Winston Churchill.
The production is co-directed for Netflix by the acclaimed Stephen Daldry and written by Peter Morgan, who scripted the 2006 film The Queen, which starred Helen Mirren.
Despite its pedigree, there have already been complaints that The Crown is little more than a sensationalist attempt to out-Downton Downton Abbey, which has been a spectacular success in the United States.
After sitting through all ten episodes, I have to say that while it certainly holds the attention, it is marred by a series of sensationalist errors and some quite remarkable lapses into vulgarity, including historically inaccurate scenes of confrontation, and a naked Matt Smith as Prince Philip.
There is also a tiresome scene where the Duke of Windsor turns to the Duchess of Windsor in bed in Paris and asks: ‘Shall we f***?’
Not that any of this will prevent its eventual success, of course, particularly in the US.
Stephen Frears’ extraordinary film, The Queen, succeeded in explaining the difficult days after Diana’s death. Later, the Queen’s Private Secretary told him it was all wrong, and yet all right. Much of what was portrayed did not happen but the essence was correct.
Here, however, the balance is rather different.
It is true that England has never looked more glorious. Lancaster House in St James’s steps in as Buckingham Palace, as it did in Downton, as does the facade of Warwick House.
Englefield House, Hatfield House and Ely Cathedral open their doors. There is no shortage of chandeliers. Indeed on occasion, the locations used are grander than the originals. There is much on which to feast the eye.
Yet it is dogged by petty and frustrating inaccuracies.
EVEN before the first credits, Prince Philip is described as a Prince of Greece and ‘of’ Denmark. Then the King knights him as he bestows titles on him in the wrong order, and only then gives him the Garter. Nor do things improve.
Prince Philip’s mother is depicted in a nun’s habit at the wedding. On that occasion in real life she was a civilian and did not wear the habit until the Coronation.
Then it is distinctly odd to see Prince Philip mocking a Kenyan chieftain for wearing a Victoria Cross when he himself is dressed wearing a 1953 Coronation medal as early as February 1952. Robes and coronets leave much to be desired in the Coronation scene, while Highgrove is shown on the Palace switchboard in the 1950s, even though Prince Charles only bought it in the 1980s.
I could go on for pages. These things are so easy to get right, especially with a budget of £100million.
There are misconceptions that make a mockery of several episodes.
A whole episode shows Princess Margaret running the country while the Queen is on her Commonwealth tour. This is nonsense since Counsellors of State operate in tandem, and if anyone ran the country, it was the Queen Mother.
Actor Alex Jennings looks incredibly like the Duke of Windsor, but the real Duke never delivered the Shakespearian oratory this actor is given. Nor would the real Queen have ever asked for advice from a man so patently incapable of giving it.
American viewers, for whom this is primarily targeted, are used to sensationalist articles informing them that the Queen is about to abdicate, or that Camilla has taken to the bottle, and will presumably lap all this up.
They may enjoy the gratuitous use of the C-word by George VI, some Trumplike groping from Group Captain Peter Townsend, and the sight of Matt Smith naked from the rear, stepping out of bed. British viewers will be less approving, and hopefully more discerning.
So I am relieved to say that at least the Queen herself comes out well. Claire Foy is as poised and measured as ever, capturing the seriousness of the Monarch, along with her youthful good looks. She certainly portrays what a journalist once described as ‘that calm level gaze, conscious of duty fulfilled’.
Foy has ‘Royal’ experience from another era, of course, having played a convincing Anne Boleyn in the BBC’s Wolf Hall.
And on the positive side, the series does shed light on the Queen and Prince Philip when they were young, before they became the people that we recognise today. The sympathetic portrait of the Queen as a young woman coming to grips with her new role is a good one.
It is easy to forget that her accession to the throne was hailed as the start of a new Elizabethan age – the young Monarch as Gloriana in a Britain where rationing was still in force, but the optimism was huge. The film captures this well.
If the Queen comes out well, Prince Philip and Princess Margaret do not. Towards the end of episode three, the series finds its theme – which is the frustration of Philip. All right, he minded losing his naval career and the Cabinet’s decision (not the Duke of Windsor’s as here hinted) that the Royal House should be the House of Windsor and not Mountbatten (though in real life he wanted it called Edinburgh).
But it is a complete travesty to suggest that Prince Philip did not want to do homage to his wife at the Coronation. Unlike other flaky consorts such as Prince Claus of the Netherlands and Prince Henrik of Denmark, Philip was raised within the Royal House of Greece. He knew the rules from birth.
Nor are the episodes concerning the romance between Princess Margaret and Group Captain Townsend convincing. It is shocking to pretend the Queen squashed their union. In fact, by 1955 that love affair had run its course. The depiction of the Royal Family is something of a curate’s egg. Princess Margaret is played lusciously by Vanessa Kirby, but I am less convinced by Victoria Hamilton as the Queen Mother. She seems to lack the steeliness. Eileen Atkins is a little thin but suitably austere as Queen Mary. Smith captures the youthful and constrained energy of Prince Philip. It is always worrying when real people are dramatised, especially the Queen and Prince Philip, who still serve this country these many years later. These films are works of fiction and yet people watching may well believe it all true. Unlike Downton Abbey, The Crown CAN be judged against history by people who can remember the events portrayed. But as ITV’s acclaimed Victoria has recently made clear, a little massaging of the truth is no bar to popularity. I’ve no doubt The Crown will be a huge success.