Skip to main content

The Crown

 My spouse thought "Alma Mater" was a new low for "The Crown"; I did think it was tedious and self-indulgent, as usual, but still, I'd argue, it had its moments.


Prince William decides to study European art. The lecturer at St. Andrews makes an observation about Giotto; this particular painter helped to bring about the Renaissance, because he made use of three dimensions. Before Giotto, you'd encounter a great deal of "flatness." When you see a human in 3-D, you may discover that you're having an "emotional experience"; you become involved in the figure's interior life, because you can recognize bits of yourself in the portrait.

Meanwhile, Kate Middleton has an unusual encounter. She sees William in the flesh; he is suddenly 3-D; he is not the flat cut-out she has viewed on a TV screen. She becomes enchanted with him. She sees his frustration--how he resents always having to smile and sign autographs. Remarkably, she sees him snap; in a moment of vulnerability, he lashes out at a classmate who wants a personalized message for her cousin. William tries to defend himself against the judgmental Kate: "You don't know what it's like to be always on display, to be groomed, and groomed, and groomed." And Kate laughs. "You don't think that's similar to being a young woman in a world of men?"

This moment of discord seems to end the friendship between Kate and William--but, actually, it isn't what it seems. After some hours of reflection, Kate finds her way back to William, via text message.

The episode raises interesting questions about Kate's mother: It's possible to see her in 2-D, as a scheming, grasping climber. But--also--it's possible to see her with compassion: She may really believe that she is trying to do something nice for her daughter.

(I wonder if the writer had Hilary Mantel in mind; famously, Mantel observed that the English public sees members of the royal family as puppets. They are inanimate Barbie dolls; we hang clothing on them.)

Eve Best is a standout, here, working with bad, expository dialogue--adding some glamour, as Mrs. Middleton.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

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...
3 comments
Read more

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...
2 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more