To find solace in anything at all as the bizarre, dumpster fire of an election roars on like an old-timey steam engine just below the border is no small feat. (By the time this article is posted, I do realize we will have possibly ushered in the horses of apocalypse as the human race combusts into flames or have elected a new POTUS. However, if the election was any indicator, the dumpster fire is probably still burning away in some form or another.)
This past weekend, though, I did find my happy place: nestled amongst my meticulously curated throw pillows, clutching onto my grandmother’s vintage English china that was filled to the brim with almond milk and chocolate Lucky Charms, as I simultaneously devoured Netflix’s comestible new original series The Crown.
The fact that I would fall head-over-Jimmy Choos in love with this show was as inevitable as me finding any lazy excuse to bring up Jon Hamm in an article (Boom. I did it, Mom!). It has stunning costumes (from Game of Thrones designer Michele Clapton), gold and upholstery laden sets, fabulous acting with people from all of my other favourite British shows, and a palatable 10-episode first season. What is not to adore?And further, like any good American, the Royal Family has always fascinated and enraptured me. I remember waking up at 2 in the morning and wearing a stupid headband to watch the Royal Wedding of Will and Kate. Every subsequent news story involving them has grabbed my attention; be it who Harry’s new girlfriend is (unfortunately, it isn’t me), or who designed the sweater-set that Prince George has been subjected to wearing. I am on-board with all of it. So when I heard there would be an absurdly expensive ($100 million) show helmed by Peter Morgan (who wrote The Queen and Frost/Nixon) about the reign of Elizabeth II, I was elated to say the very least. The Crown is just so on-brand for me.
The erratic remarks that follow contain spoilers for the series, but not really, because it is based on real events, so if you are remotely well informed about the various goings-on of the Royal Family and their political compatriots, then none of this will be news to you.
The series quickly sweeps us away into the rich and luscious visual language that the show will uphold throughout its 10-episodes (and hopefully though its anticipated 6 seasons). If one has to ask why this show costs so much money, one need only glance at the gloriously intricate sets and costumes to see where that money went.
We begin with King George VI (Jared Harries, aka Lane Pryce from Mad Men) performing the ceremony that denounces Prince Philip (Matt Smith) of his Greek and Danish royal titles and becoming a fully naturalized Brit. So, at this point, Elizabeth II (Claire Foy) remains unmarried, with Prime Minister Winston Churchill (John Lithgow), Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden (Jeremy Northam), and others in the parliament still deeply disapproving of Elizabeth’s choice of spouse.
Now, about 20-minutes in to the show, I had to pause to spend about a half-hour furiously googling “young Prince Philip” to see if the real person exuded the oozing and smoldering sexuality of Matt Smith. The real Philip was not a hideous man in his heyday, but a Mr. Smith he was not.
Okay, getting back on track here. Elizabeth and Philip are married in 1947, and her dress is stunning. All is well.
The couple makes an excursion to Kenya, and they are both working some Out of Africa, safari realness. While they are away, her father passes away, so she must return to England to deal with the fact that she will now be the Queen.
Despite the death of the character in present day (1952), there are various flashbacks throughout the series, so we still see Lane Pryce, the King, interacting with Elizabeth and Princess Margaret as children. There is no way they would have Jared Harris hanging about and wasting his talents.
There are 2-episodes after the death of King George VI, both fairly tedious, if lovely to look at. I am pretty sure I was just refreshing my Twitter, occasionally glancing at the screen and writing down one or two words of my thoughts on what I saw. We do get to see Wallis Simpson, though, who remains one of my greatest center-part icons next to Goop.
We also get to watch a bevy of smog cover the city that killed a bunch people in 1952, and then watch as Churchill refused to acknowledge that it was a real issue. According to his portrayal on this show, which Lithgow does with deft skill and should receive an Emmy-nom for, he was kind of a d-bag.
We get into the juicy stuff by episode 5 (“Smoke and Mirrors”). Queen Mary (the mother of King George VI and the Duke of Windsor) passes away, and Edward (the Duke of Windsor… this nomenclature gets bonkers) writes to Wallis about how his mother was kind of the worst person ever and the family will be like vultures about her fancy stuff. I mean, the letter he wrote was savage. The man gave up being the King to go marry a woman who had been divorced multiple times, so he clearly gives zero sh*ts about anything.
This episode is also the coronation of Elizabeth, in which Philip throws a hissy fit for having to bow to his wife. Philip is also kind of a d-bag.
The idea that she has a duty to her Crown, but that she is still a wife and has a family is a resounding theme throughout the show. Churchill and Philip both act as the two main masculine figureheads that are constantly questioning and troubling Elizabeth with problems, with her uncle Edward and many others in the government in her ear along the way.
There is some dribble drabble with the Soviet hydrogen bomb, and I mainly watched this for the Royal intrigue and not the politics, so I sort of zoned out here.
In the background of all that genuinely important stuff was what I was actually into. Princess Margaret (Vanessa Kirby) was having an affair with Group Captain Peter Townsend (Ben Miles), a married man, who was 16-years Margaret’s senior (Get it, girl!), and had served as equerry to King George VI. In 1953, he ended up proposing to her, which set off a whole hodgepodge of scandal and mess. Much to Margaret’s dismay, he was sent away until her 25th birthday, wherein she would no longer have to obey her sister in regards to whom she could marry.
Elizabeth, all the while, is making her Royal Tour of the Commonwealth from 1953-1954. She is beloved, and she is making speeches, despite feeling it is not her best skill. She is all-around being pretty cool and gets to wear some killer outfits along the way.
When she returns, we are introduced to Lord Porchester, a horse-breeder who is a family friend and whom everyone implicates would have been her ideal match. Her sister is sassy AF about her partially over-friendly relationship with him. Her husband makes a snide remark about him being furniture and for Elizabeth not to sit on him. It was straight out of the Dowager Countess handbook and I was here for it.
Winston Churchill is getting super sick, and for a while he was essentially on death’s doorstep. Nobody told Elizabeth about it and she slayed them with her sharp tongue, prompting lots of snapping and “Yassss Queen”-ings from moi.
Anywho, he is turning 80, and the Queen discusses his retirement. Then, Stannis Baratheon, I mean, Graham Sutherland (Stephen Dillane) shows up to paint his portrait. Churchill is furious about how decrepit he looks in the final painting, so he burns it up right away in a bonfire. This is the same thing I do whenever I stumble upon any old pictures of me with brown hair.
The final episode culminates in a load of personal dramas between Elizabeth and Margaret about her marriage to Peter Townsend. Despite trying to keep her word, Elizabeth has no choice but to demand that Margaret and Townsend marry in another country and not return to England for some time. So, essentially, she cannot approve the marriage because of her position as “defender of the faith.” They make a big public announcement how they won’t marry, blah, blah, blah.
With Churchill retired, Anthony Eden has taken over as PM (pretty sure he shoots up heroin as the episodes closes? I genuinely need answers on this.). As Elizabeth prepares for a photo shoot, and she is looking glam, Philip just kind of leaves her and drives away in the Rolls Royce convertible of my dreams.
This series, while beautiful and entertaining, is not making any sort of profound statement about the Royal Family and the seemingly private lives that they lead. It does paint certain figures as heroes and as villains in the grand scheme of it all, but beyond that, it is a fairly straightforward and enjoyable period drama that is sumptuous and seeping in Netflix cash. The experience of watching it can best be described as eating a rich and delicious piece of dark chocolate cake with lots of frosting slathered on top, but it won’t make you feel like regurgitating the whole slice back up if you eat the whole thing at once. Coming from someone who lives for these kinds of shows, it is definitely worth 10 hours of your precious time.
And now, some of my random favourite moments because there was really no proper place to insert these in the complicated narrative I was attempting to paint:
- Someone uttered the line: “unbecoming tittle tattle.”
- Elizabeth was told by her doctor to stop smiling due to some strained nerves in her face, and the brain of every girl that has ever been told to “smile more” (I am part of that club!) just melted.
- Margaret giving her savage roast of everyone at the state dinner, while Elizabeth was away, made me want to see what her as Queen would have been like.
- There are lots of scenes with people moving in slow motion with dramatic opera music playing in the background that really spoke to me.
- At one point, there was a horse sex scene.
- Someone strongly pronounced the “t” in “adjective.”
- Elizabeth was told by her mother that she has to “let her sister shine,” and it was in that moment that I realized exactly why I love being an only child.
- Matt Smith always looks like he wants to have sex with whatever he is looking at. Like, how is a person’s face just naturally like that? It is a marvel.
Happy watching, darlings! xx
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