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For someone who shares none of their enthusiasm or obsession with their royal family, I had begun watching The Crown with perhaps a faint expectation of an eulogy to English royalty. Instead, I was pulled into an intriguing story and a lesson in modern history.
The widely feted Netflix Original series traces the life of Queen Elizabeth II, the reigning queen of the United Kingdom since 1952. Season 1 revolves around her unexpected ascension to the throne at the age of 25 and consequent initiation into the cogs of power. Over 10 episodes, The Crown explores the dilemmas and burden of power and the inevitable loneliness and isolation that such a position inevitably brings.
The Crown explores at great length the ruthless rolling of the wheels of sovereignty, and how it has no place for the “individual”, with all their conflicting emotions, ambition, marital strife or sibling rivalry. What makes Elizabeth II a successful queen who survived a complete transformation of the world as she knew it, is her decision to put duty over herself. As the last shot of the season shows - Elizabeth Regina in all her regalia at last manages to overshadow Elizabeth, the woman. And there’s an inescapable hint of ruthlessness about it.
The series is obviously made compelling by some brilliantly written characters - not only the protagonists but the tertiary ones as well - the near reptilian Tommy Lascelles (Pip Torrens), the immensely dignified Clementine Churchill (Harriet Walter), the greatly conflicted Duke of Windsor (Alex Jennings), Elizabeth’s uncle who abdicated the throne in favour of her father, King George VI.
Much of the drama, especially in the beginning, unfolds within the royal chambers, its inhabitants small against the magnificent weight of their inheritance. The near claustrophobia hits the viewer even harder when juxtaposed to the occasional - hence compelling - flights of freedom - the effervescent, impulsive Princess Margaret galloping across the countryside or Philip soaring into the horizon during his flight lessons.
What also made the The Crown primarily work for me - apart from the drool-worthy costumes, music (and silence), and the faithful recreation of the early twentieth century world - is how skilfully writer Peter Morgan blends history with imagination.
Among the precious few cons of the show, the primary one is perhaps that of editing. Some crisper sluicing - Philip and Elizabeth’s marital discord for instance - could have made it even more riveting.
Also, while the first season has largely (and ultimately) been a family drama, it remains to be seen if the subsequent seasons (there will be five more) would refrain from becoming a royal propaganda or romanticising the darker side of things. There’s nothing but a hint of Philip’s philandering for instance, and the affair between Princess Margaret and Peter Townsend gets a rather storybook-ish treatment.
But let’s not jump the guns. I, for one, can’t wait for the next season to air.
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