Spencer, a film aboutPrincess Dianadirected byPablo Larraínand starringKristen Stewart, is one of the few recent works about the royal family that could be considered anti-monarchy. Although shows likeThe Crownand movies likeThe Queendon’t portray the royal family as completely beyond reproach, most remain deferential to the monarchy, which is still largely popular both inside and outside the United Kingdom.Spencer, on the other hand, paints the monarchy as a bizarre, outdated institution, a great big haunted house that maddens and destroys any member who wasn’t born inside it. It’s hardly a call for guillotines, but it’s a much less rosy picture than what many viewers may have been accustomed to - which might explain whySpencerreceived such a frosty audience reception.
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The Royals Are Kept At a Distance
Aside from Diana and her two sons, William and Harry (Jack NielenandFreddie Spry), there are only two royals who have a significant speaking role. Her soon-to-be ex-husband,Prince Charles(Jack Farthing), is coldly dismissive of Diana, making no secret of his infidelity and snidely remarking upon her eating disorder. Over the course of three days during Christmas, Diana is driven to the verge of a nervous breakdown, due in large part to Charles’ actions, and only finds a bit of peace after defying him (and, eventually, leaving him.) More nuanced, and more enigmatic, isSpencer’s depiction of the lateQueen Elizabeth II; the scene she shares with Diana is brief, but it can be interpreted in multiple ways, adding an intriguing wrinkle to the film’s commentary on the British monarchy.
For most of the film, the Queen (played by British theater veteranStella Gonet) is a distant, looming presence - rarely seen or heard, but always felt. As the physical embodiment of the monarchy, she can be read as the true villain of the story, more than even Charles. It’s Elizabeth who insists on adhering to the ancient traditions that make Diana miserable: keeping Sandringham House cold and drafty despite a working heating system or weighing every Christmas guest to make sure they gained weight during their stay.
It’s Elizabeth who stares impassively across the table as her daughter-in-law struggles to keep herself from unraveling. Whatever Diana says or does is carried across Sandringham within minutes, on a current of servants’ whispers that flows all the way back to the Queen. She might as well be omnipotent - and what happens when you anger an omnipotent being? (Spencerdoesn’t engage with the conspiracy theory that the Queen orchestrated Diana’s tragic death, but it does draw parallels between Diana and Anne Boleyn who was beheaded for treason in 1536.)
The Royals Are Never Depicted As Good or Evil
But as unsympathetic as the monarchy might seem to Diana’s plight, it never quite crosses over into malevolence - and while both are harmful, one is distinct from the other. Charles is callous towards his wife’s emotional distress, but that callousness comes from frustration more than cruelty. He simply doesn’t understand why Diana can’t deal with the stress of royalty by adopting the British virtue of a stiff upper lip (or as Americans know it, “sucking it up.”) “There needs to be two of you,” he advises Diana, before telling her that the public “doesn’t want us to be people. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.” Major Gregory (Timothy Spall), the primary enforcer of royal conformity, commiserates with Diana at another point, telling her to think of her position as public service akin to the military. And perhaps, in her own way, even the Queen tries to help - for whatever that’s worth.
Sympathy or Mockery?
Diana’s brief encounter with the Queen occurs more than halfway through the film. They meet outside the main house after Diana ruffled feathers by wearing a different outfit from the one her dresser chose for the Christmas Day breakfast. Diana begins by complimenting the dress the Queen wore for her Christmas address, blurting it out with the awkward sheepishness of a fan running into their favorite celebrity on the street. “It wasn’t the one my dresser recommended,” says the Queen, with a knowing smile. Then, a question: “They take a lot of photographs of you, don’t they?” Diana, being one of the most famous people on the planet, says yes. The Queen responds, still with that same calm expression on her face. “The only portrait that really matters is the one they use to put on the ten-pound note. When they take that one, you understand. All you are, my dear, is currency.” And with that, she goes off to walk her corgis.
This exchange clearly leaves Diana feeling uneasy, but the Queen’s emotions and intentions are left ambiguous. When she says that she wasn’t wearing the outfit her dresser recommended, what does she mean? Is she expressing a bit of sympathy with Diana by reminding her that even the Queen has to deal with this nonsense, or is she mocking Diana’s powerlessness? What about her currency remark? Is she callously dehumanizing Diana, or is she providing genuine advice for navigating the intense scrutiny of royal life? After all, Queen Elizabeth is one of the very few people who understand Diana’s position, with the entire world watching her every move too. Perhaps she’s telling Diana what she wishes someone told her this information when she was young.
Viewers can draw their own conclusions about the Queen’s motivation. This viewer, for one, sees it as a sincere attempt to give advice - but “sincere” does not mean “good.” The Queen may have been in a similar situation as Diana when she was younger, but the decades that followed isolated her and hardened her.Spencerpresents a Queen so aloof and remote that her own daughter-in-law speaks to her like a stranger, someone who carries thousands of years of history and tradition on her shoulders wherever she goes, someone who is seen as the physical embodiment of their country.Of course,she would think she was currency - she would think that Diana could possibly be satisfied by that.
That’sSpencer’s approach to the monarchy in a nutshell. It’s not a piece of seething agitprop. It doesn’t consider the monarchy to be a force of good or evil. Instead, it sees the monarchy as a bizarre parallel world, as strange and uncanny as the Land of Faerie. The trappings are beautiful and lush; it operates on a set of strange, inscrutable rules; and there’s an invisible barrier between it and the real world, difficult to see and impossible to break.
