Skip to main content

Royal Drama II

When I watch "The Crown," it's hard for me not to think about "windows and mirrors." This approach to English education says a book shows us windows: It allows us to see other cultures. A book also shows us mirrors: It allows us to see *ourselves* more clearly.

The Royals: They are NOT just like us! They own islands. They meet LBJ. They meet the moonwalkers. Their dalliances are splashed across newspapers.

The Royals: They are JUST LIKE US! They have tender moments with their siblings. They bicker with their spouses. They struggle to detach from their parents.

I found moments exasperating. "Moondust" represents "The Crown" in its most aimless and most self-indulgent phase: an episode that seemed to go on forever, and that led me to ask, over and over, WHO CARES??? And why did Peter Morgan feel a need to invent a Wales story line--involving Prince Charles--that never actually happened? (Lazy and inexcusable, and Hilary Mantel is now clawing at her eyes.) And having Margaret--from her near-death bed--deliver a climactic speech on the value of the monarchy, as the music swells? Margaret, finding her nobility in the eleventh hour? That's a bit much.

(Though I love Bonham Carter and Vanessa Kirby, my favorite depiction of Princess Margaret is in the Edward St. Aubyn "Patrick Melrose" novels. St. Aubyn resists the urge to find anything sympathetic in Margaret, and just makes her a gargoyle. Exhilarating, and maybe it's closest to the truth.)

All that said, there were things I loved. Of course there were things I loved. We're talking about "The Crown." I especially liked that the whisper-y Parker Bowles conferences coincided with a major national strike, so the talks had a Gothic quality; they were conducted by candlelight. (Especially Gothic because of HBC's "Harry Potter" past; I imagine Peter Morgan was thinking of this.) I liked Philip forgetting that "the bald one" had retired, and forgetting that he had given "the bald one" a clock. I liked Philip sort-of-attempting suicide (at least unconsciously), in a plane, in the otherwise-execrable "Moondust" episode. I liked Anne clarifying that she is "not confident, but tough." (Morgan worked with a colleague on the writing of that Parker Bowles episode, and the writing is sharper than it generally is; Morgan should fly solo less often.)

I really liked HBC in her marital feuds--so unpredictable and bold and raw. Just as sharp, if not sharper, than the writing she was given.

I do think this show often indulges in shabby storytelling, and people overlook some of the sloppiness because of the starry cast and the fabulous sets. I'm one of those people. I eagerly await Season Four.

P.S. I liked how Morgan highlighted the role of the paparazzi in Margaret's stumbling--and how Charles notes this shift in Royal history. Of course the paparazzi will play a major role in Charles's life, as soon as Diana pop up on the scene.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...