A fable based on a true tragedy. This is the statement that begins Pablo Larraín’s latest film, Spencer, about a tempestuous Christmas weekend in the life of Princess Diana. “Fable” warns us that what we’ll see should not have expectations of historical accuracy, while “tragedy” confirms what we already know about Diana – a symbol of spirit and grace cut down by immense scrutiny and familial prejudice. Larraín loves fantastical takes on historically significant figures, like Jacqueline Kennedy in Jackie and Pablo Neruda in Neruda. Spencer is closer to Jackie in tone, both dealing with women expected to act their best in times of great turmoil. Spencer is a better, much freer film, less beholden to the truth in a way that makes it feel more honest. It also has a phenomenal performance at its head.
Kristen Stewart does not look like Princess Diana (neé Spencer). She’s about half a foot shorter, to start, and doesn’t possess the princess’ broad-shouldered, athletic build. Stewart’s “transformation” is mostly hair, make-up and Jacqueline Durran costuming (the parade of recent depictions of Diana seems to have proven that the hair is really the key to everything), and yet, there is something profound about what she’s doing here. Stewart knows a thing or two about oppressive media attention, and her pouty, downtrodden take on the Princess of Wales manages to be strident without being petulant. It’s a fierce, precise portrayal of a mental unhinging, but Stewart’s focus stays so singularly on Diana. Furthermore, Stewart has upped to another level in her movie star status. It is clear in her screen presence that she knows exactly what her audience wants and has the masterful ability to give it to them.
It’s all to say that Stewart’s last decade as a cresting star has in many ways led to this, a role where her talent cannot be questioned, but more importantly neither can her ferocious power to possess the eyes of anyone in front of her. This goes beyond her beauty – though her ability to capitalize on her desirability on her own terms is a big part of her allure. Her soft but shifty acting style has evolved from a studied woodenness to a protean steeliness. To call her performance as Diana a transformation (a favorite word for those describing actors in biopics), is to miss the point of what Stewart and Larraín are trying to accomplish. Forever a symbol of things both jubilant and forlorn, Spencer makes Diana a symbol for desperation and, eventually, triumph.
The film takes place over a three-day Christmas holiday in the royal country estate in Norfolk. The palace is not far from Diana’s own childhood home, which has fallen to disrepair. The closeness to home makes the royal palace feel even more like a prison. Forever a threat to tradition and the royal way of life, Diana is the scorn of most in the family of Windsor, arriving late to dinner (even arriving – gasp! – after the Queen) and making a sour expression when she is there. Her marriage to Prince Charles (Jack Farthing) is reaching its very bitter end and Diana has little use for keeping up appearances with a group of people who make their disdain so well known. Her two young boys, William (Jack Nielen) and Harry (Freddie Spry), are the only family allies, but it’s only a matter of time before royal obligation steals them away as well.
Diana has friends within the staff, including the head chef (Sean Harris) who feels comfortable enough to call her Diana and is bold enough to admit that he’s frightened for her safety. There’s also Maggie (Sally Hawkins, brilliant in a limited role), the royal dresser, and perhaps the only person in the world that Diana feels comfortable talking openly with. A good percentage of the staff shares the opinion of the royals – who is she to think she’s better than the Queen? This extends most noticeably to Major Alistair Gregory (a phenomenal Timothy Spall), a former military man turned equerry to the Queen. He tells Diana that he was brought in for Christmas to keep the incessant media attention at bay, but the implication is clear: he is there to control Diana. Fueled by a sense of duty, Gregory’s principled insistence frequently clashes with Diana’s defiance.
Like in Jackie, Larraín is creating a choking claustrophobia. With cinematographer Claire Mathon, he fills Spencer with unsettling hand-held close-ups, contrasted by impeccably framed portraits that declare both the majesty of royal England and the totality of its disingenuousness. The Queen (played by Stella Gonet) hardly gets a word in the film, and Prince Philip is hardly seen at all, but through a series of brilliantly edited sequences (edited by Sebastián Sepúlveda), their presence is felt through every frame. Diana is compelled by conspiratorial feeling, and she says on more than one occasion the Queen can hear everything that happens in the house. Larraín visually evokes this eery sentiment, creating a royal family of haunting spirits circling Diana until she has succumbed to their demented view of custom.
The royal family is well-tread territory, especially Diana, who captured the heart of the world and whose mythology skyrocketed after her tragic death. Spencer emphasizes the tragic within her life (the coldness of her husband who loves another woman, the crippling bulimia that follows her every meal), but becomes a story of strength and perseverance. A score by Jonny Greenwood vacillates between calm, jazzy tones and his more usual brand of cacophonic strings. The effect is incredible, accentuating Diana’s anxiety and Larraín’s visual depiction of it. Screenwriter Steven Knight (Locke, Dirty Pretty Things) does a wonderful job of mixing in what we expect and what we won’t, threading the line between fantasy and reality, including a motif involving Anne Boleyn, and her parallels to Diana. His doses of magical reality fit perfectly within Larraín’s dreamlike milieu.
Spencer is one of the best films of the year, which surprises me since biopic is easily my least favorite film genre. It strays from the usual clichés of Hollywood historical depiction, and frankly states it lack of fidelity to the truth. That’s a stark contrast to many films that bend over backwards to stress their accuracy. Spencer is a success at every level of creative and technical achievement, a film both emotionally stirring and visually dazzling. But the main takeaway is still Stewart, whose performance feels massive in a way not seen since Daniel Day-Lewis. Eschewing mimicry, she dives into the core of Diana as a character, not a historical figure. The performance, so emotive and melodramatic, is a spectacle in its own right. That Larraín wraps it in such lush filmmaking makes it a total achievement.
Directed by Pablo Larraín