Review of The Crown

What could possibly set Netflix's The Crown apart from other film and TV adaptations of the life of Queen Elizabeth II? Using simple cinematography with masterful building of drama the series creates a carefully selected series of events to explore. With an understated but powerful casting in the likes of Matt Smith (Prince Phillip), John Lithgow (Winston Churchill), and Claire Foy (Queen Elizabeth II). It is the very relationships hidden from our eyes yet brought to life in small scenes of the interaction between Queen Elizabeth and her mother, or the growing strength and self-confidence amid unsteady waters as Head of State that we observe in Elizabeth, or even the tense moments between Prince Phillip and the Queen that we begin to grasp the constraint and the opportunities that lie in monarchy in a gripping way. Far from the resplendence of other treatments of the British monarchy, this treatment is more human, more direct, and more unapologetic.

What is most striking about the show is not its big-name cast, the writing, or the period costumes. It is the story-telling, the pacing, and the selection of episodes in history that it chooses to present to us. A favorite is the second episode which deals as much with the environmental crisis, causes, and repercussions of the Great Smog of London in 1952 as it does with the politics. Another episode is dedicated to the perspective, largely, of the abdicated king Edward. The show gives understated but impactful emotional depth to an otherwise tawdrily covered affair. There's profound, echoing loss from different alleys and different perspectives that stuns with its unexpected resonance. a scene that begins as a casual dinner drips unexpectedly into raw emotion as characters struggle with the trappings of propriety and agenda.

The further that the show goes, the more cinematic it becomes, the deeper the actors seem to sink into their characters, the more that the writers seem to pull back the curtain seeing fit to allow us to observe the private moments that build like steam in a pressure cooker. Cinematographically, there is substantial focus on the physical components of London of the time: The gears that lower the Queen Mary ship to the ground, the dusky lights of lanterns lighting the night through the fog, motor wheels rumbling across the bridges during a royal procession. Equal too is the treatment of the human element: The softly gleaming profile of the Queen in dim light streaming through the palace windows, the silhouette of King Phillip on the balcony above the courtyard, the patterns of space between the individual and the crowd, press, parliament, people from above, on level, or below.

For the empathetic and the intuitive, those who enjoy observing the subtle play of relationships - from romantic to controlling - delicate attention is paid to all the figures around the Queen who seek to control her. The juxtaposition of British politeness with abject prejudice, along with how the camera doesn't impose an agenda on the viewer through framing, but merely sets the scenes and allows the characters to play out makes for a powerful statement on the character of those figures. The curious limitation of historical drama is that the allure of character redemption relies on history and ignorance. Either one doesn't know how the real events played out and can hold on to that hope for justice or one is dealing with a character who strays toward compassion and equity.

By the near end of season one, we follow Elizabeth and Phillip on her first colonial tour. prince Phillip's sardonic quips are the refreshing counterpoint to what might otherwise be a dizzy whirlwind of glamor, intentionally on the part of the crown. Here, Phillip's quips cast light into the understated violence by which these places were brought into the fold of the empire.

Perhaps the most profound moment comes with its even treatment, perhaps only less so by the use of compelling scores, of decisions and their consequences, when it comes to portraying the decisions made to allow war to bubble up and the consequences. Stirring, certainly. But it is up to the viewer to interpret judgement in any direction. However, you can't help but feel that the pressure is mounting. The choice of music is stirring, not celebratory. Flashes of red-beret'ed troops and children wielding rocket launchers. The cinematography changing to wide shots, further removed. Darkened hallways, isolation. It is very isolating indeed to be a queen. With only an understated score to backup the performances, the onus is on the actors and actresses to project emotion.