Spencer

“A fable based on a true tragedy.”

My mother is a die-hard Royals fan. She can name me the family trees, the relationships, the controversies, the glitz, the glamour and the essence that surrounds the British Monarchy. I, on the other hand, am moreso the wikipedia and here-and-there 60 Minute one-on-one interview foundation of knowledge. That being said, I remember, and I know of the societal impact, cultural folklore and aura of one, Diana Spencer.

As much as the tabloids, the interviews, the conspiracy's between the affairs, the Monarchy and Diana; she has always held her own as an ethreal enigma. Thrust into a dynamic inherently structured by tradition and role, Diana was that variable in the equation, a notch in a machine bound by the limelight, a life so wholly enclosed by image and perspective. Larraín begs the question, like many have thought, if that well-oiled machine…what if there was something wrong with it? It isn’t the person, but the class, the community, the culture.

As the opening title card mentions, Larraín’s film is a fable, a fever-dream of varying consciousness and the revelation of a soul bound by torment and sadness but the yearning of hope and freedom of self. There is a sense of detachment and reflection in the way Larraín frames Diana and the walls around her; there are times where the films’ emotional hollowness is exemplified in the large corridors, the extravagance of the detail, the food, the butlers (even the large posse of the Royal pets), even with such precision in the depiction of the rigicity of British royalty, the world is empty around Diana. There seems to be no hope, no tangible personal connection (not counting her children, Harry and William and the magnificent Sally Hawkins as her dresser, Maggie) and a void around Diana. Intentional and powerful; even moreso a magnifier into the heartbeat of Kristen Stewart’s central performance.

Stewart dazzles with grace and the most utmost pain; a revelatory turn of a woman guarded by the watchful eye of the family. She screams, she dances, she runs. Her eyes reflect a soul entrapped by her world, empty, void and broken. Jonny Greenwood, already decorated in his career with Radiohead and collaboration with Paul Thomas Anderson - will finally get his due at Oscar gold. There is a sequence in this film, so impeccably crafted - the rising cresendos, the heartbeat, the soul bridge higher and higher to a satisfying, cathartic conclusion that pays off in spades.

Remember, it’s a fable. A tall tale reflective of a life and soul unlived. Beautiful and poigant, this film will stick with me for awhile.

4.5 out of 5.