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Royal flush
In director Stephen Frears' uncommonly fine docu-drama, we're transported to the court of the Queen of England in 1997, during the upheaval surrounding the death of Princess Diana. Playing opposite the queen as loyal foil is Tony Blair (Michael Sheen), the newly elected Labor Prime Minister. Mixing People magazine and Shakespearean people, Peter Morgan's juicy script aims to please, but it does so with appropriate pomp and circumstance. Bows and curtsies are in order for Frears' superbly directed cast, from Mirren and Sheen to American actor James Cromwell as Prince Phillip and Helen McCrory as Blair's cheeky wife, Cherie. Frears begins his stately procession in May 1997 with the election of "Just call me Tony" Blair and his gingerly arrival at Balmoral Castle to receive the official blessing of the queen. Though the queen views her role in a constitutional monarchy as one to "advise and warn" the government, the events of the subsequent months flip the positions. With the shocking, paparazzi-caused death of Diana in a Paris auto accident, it is the House of Windsor that teeters on the brink of collapse. Following the 1996 divorce of Diana from Prince Charles, the royal family closed ranks, treating the former Princess of Wales like a pauper. Cherie Blair is more blunt: The queen "hated her guts." If the clash between old and new is at the gilded heart of Frears' drama, Mirren provides its blue-blooded pulse. Never just an impersonation—though Mirren does that with aplomb—her performance grants the queen a heart and soul, however rooted they are in the musty Victorian era. Appalled at the public outpouring of grief at the death of the "peoples' princess," the queen is assuredly not amused. Leading with her stiff upper lip in the Brit tradition, the queen insists that Diana be mourned "quietly, with dignity." Secluded at Balmoral Castle in Scotland, the royal family goes into a siege mode befitting Macbeth at Dunsinane. Prince Philip, fuming with snobbish disdain toward his people, would rather be hunting. Prince Charles (Alex Jennings), acutely aware of his sinking image, timidly makes requests of his mum to honor Diana in death. Considering the princely exchanges between Mirren and Sheen (who previously played Blair on British TV), The Queen ascends to greatness in its quietest moments. In one of Morgan's invented scenes, Elizabeth is dumbstruck by the sight of a regal 14-point stag on her estate. That sobering moment is bettered by the queen's humbling trip to Diana's former palace, as a bow to public outcry. In both scenes, the silence evokes a touching sense of majesty. Ultimately, it is Blair, not the queen, who provides the London bridge between modernity and tradition. Initially, he brashly sees the queen as a dinosaur, fit only for a wax museum. But it is Blair who brilliantly maneuvers his queen into a face-saving move that may have also saved the monarchy from dissolution. Blair's compromise perhaps gives an insight into his rash (some say, toady) expedience vis-ˆ-vis his decision to ally with America in the Iraq war. Given Frears' previous populist-minded films (like Dirty Pretty Things), it's not surprising that he'd paint an unflattering portrait of the royal family. But with Dame Helen on the throne in The Queen, one thing is for sure: She rules.
Tru times two
All things being equal, you may vote for Jones, despite what has to be considered a case of bloody bad timing. Not only are both biopics about Capote, but they roughly cover the same period in the writer's life, during the time he wrote his famous "nonfiction novel," In Cold Blood. A diminutive British actor, Jones gives a finer, less emotional impersonation of Capote, starting with pixie physical appearance. And then there's that nasal, Southern-tinged Capote voice. ("Imagine if a brussel sprout could talk," likens one observer.) Not just fey, Jones' hip-swinging Capote is most definitely gay. But it's not only Jones' mannerisms that set him apart. It's also his martini-dry witticisms. After one flamboyant flourish, Capote confesses to his close friend and fellow writer Harper Lee (Sandra Bullock), "You know how impossible it is for me to modify myself." Capote was a giant egomaniac and a terrible gossip, but he was also a great listener. All those qualities came into play while he was writing In Cold Blood, his riveting retelling of the events surrounding the murders of a Kansas farmer and his family. In Heartland Kansas with Lee for research, Capote sticks out like a Munchkin at a Miss America contest. But Capote charms the locals, first with his Hollywood name-dropping and then with his amazing arm-wrestling talents. Adapting a book by George Plimpton, director Douglas McGrath (Emma) pumps up his biopic with faux interviews with some of Capote's famous New York City friends. Doing his own name-dropping, McGrath casts Sigourney Weaver, Peter Bogdanovich, Hope Davis, et al., appearing in small roles as Babe Paley (wife of CBS czar William Paley), publisher Bennett Cerf and Slim Keith, director Howard Hawks' wife. McGrath's own creative license with the facts goes so far as to claim that Capote's relationship with confessed murderer Perry Smith (Daniel Craig) was a romantic one. When Capote and Smith kiss in Smith's cell, it's either wild speculation or an outlandish outing. Kiss or no kiss, Craig is curiously unaffecting in the role, which doesn't bode well for his future as the feloniously macho James Bond. Like 2005's Capote, Infamous charts the long, dreadful journey of the Kansas killers to the gallows. Both films suggest that Capote was unknowingly strung along with them, sacrificing journalistic integrity in a Faustian trade for fame and fortune. Whether Capote or Infamous is more the Tru story is open to debate. But if I had to make a cold-blooded choice between the leads, I'd take Jones. Thomas Delapa reviews the latest movies on KUVO (FM 89.3) Fridays at 8:40 a.m. Respond: letters@boulderweekly.com
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All hail Helen Mirren in The Queen. As Queen Elizabeth II,
Mirren gives a commanding performance that cries out for an Oscar, if not for a
star-studded crown.
Tru or false: Toby Jones' letter-perfect performance as
Truman Capote in Infamous is even better than Philip Seymour Hoffman's
Oscar-winning turn in last year's Capote.
