My Netflix subscription this year was a good investment if I
had only watched one series: The
Crown. Although I have viewed several of
the streaming service’s original series, this is the best so far.
The series plans to depict the life of Queen Elizabeth II. The first season begins with her wedding in
1947 and goes through the first years of her reign up to 1955. Although this all happened within my
lifetime, I would have to call it historical drama. Visually extravagant with meticulous
attention to period costumes and furnishings, the series rarely makes a
misstep.
The series functions on two levels—family drama and
politics. On one level, we have the soap
opera of family relationships impacted by both royal privilege and
responsibility. The other level is the
political and historical realities of the period. For example, in “Gloriana” (episode 10), Prime
minister Anthony Eden (Jeremy Northam) is dealing with a foreign policy crisis
in Egypt while the Queen (Claire Foy) is more interested in dealing with her
sister’s desire to marry a divorced man, Peter Townsend (Ben Miles).
With a biopic of this type, there is certainly a great deal
of speculation and recreated conversations since who knows what goes on behind
closed doors? I am sure that there are
some historical inaccuracies, but the drama is real and often rather
subtle.
Two episodes in particular challenged my thinking at a
theological level. Those of us in the
former American colonies tend to make light of the “divine right of kings,” but
“Smoke and Mirrors” (episode 5) which deals with Elizabeth’s coronation, was
especially moving for me. When the
Archbishop of Canterbury anointed the Queen’s head, hands and breast (rather
awkwardly), I was reminded that the British monarch is not only the secular sovereign
but the defender of the faith, the head of the Church of England. He or she has assumed a holy order. The monarch’s vocation is a gift from
God. What if each of us considered our
vocation as a divine gift from God? What
difference would it make in our daily lives and the way we pursue our
vocations?
Another episode focuses on Winston Churchill (John Lithgow). The Prime Minister is a central figure
through most of the first season. In “Assassins”
(episode 9), Churchill is to be honored on his 80th birthday with a
portrait by Graham Sutherland (Stephen Dillane), a modernist artist strongly
influenced by both nature and spirituality.
Churchill’s hatred of the portrait is a historical fact. The episode infers that he ordered it burned,
but some sources say that Lady Churchill (Harriet Walter) took the initiative
to destroy the portrait. The conflict
between the artist and the subject surfaces both unresolved grief and the
inability to deal with one’s own mortality.
Lithgow’s Churchill is both vulnerable and vindictive, and each of us
can identify with the very human struggle of making sense of the death of loved
ones and of our own impending deaths.
This is a faith question. Rarely
does an entertainment vehicle touch on such concerns.
For the most part, the parts are well cast and choosing
actors to play real persons, many of whom are still living, is not easy.
Elizabeth (Claire Foy) has the difficult task of living into the role of the English
monarch—both human and symbol. Foy must
be both ingénue and sovereign. She is
excellent in this ambiguous role.
John Lithgow as Churchill is fabulous. Much has been written about Churchill, both
honoring and critiquing the politician and wartime leader, but he is certainly
one of the most pivotal figures of the 20th century. Lithgow
captures the bulldog tenacity as well as the declining facilities of the man in
his later years.
In early episodes and in flashbacks, Jared Harris is
wonderful as King George VI, the monarch with a stutter who had the office thrust
upon him when his brother King Edward VII (Alex Jennings) abdicated the throne “for
the women he loved.” Harris depicts George as a reluctant ruler with a sometimes
crude streak who gives his all for family and country.
Other performances are a bit uneven but this may have more
to do with the script than the actors. There
often seems to be a tendency to write caricatures rather than fully embodied
people. Alex Jennings plays Edward, Duke
of Windsor. Although he protests that
he is fine with his decision to give up the throne for Wallis Simpson (Lia
Williams), we are never sure he believes his choice was for the best.
Matt Smith (who played one of the incarnations of Dr. Who)
does not seem to have a firm grasp on his role as Prince Phillip. He comes across as sulky and juvenile, so it
is hard to truly care about his character.
Vanessa Kirby also has a difficult task in portraying Princess
Margaret, the royal sister who wants to marry the divorced Peter Townsend (Ben
Miles). Again, it is difficult to
understand a person who seems to think only of herself and is depicted in the
extremes of either pouting or partying.
Miles, on other hand, shows us a man who is both passionate and
patriotic, willing to make difficult choices in the public spotlight.
The Crown is a morality play, one based on real people. Even if we are not royals, we face significant
choices related to responsibility, relationships, and freedom. These are people just like us, only
different. The bottom line is that The
Crown is about people.
Comments