NY FILM FESTIVAL: THE QUEEN — FREARS, MIRREN AND CO. TURN THE POTENTIALLY TEDIOUS INTO THE VIRTUALLY MAJESTIC

I’m actually not so sure why I’m so surprised to have walked out of The Queen singing its praises. Certainly Helen Mirren qualifies as someone who could mesmerize while reading the proverbial phone book; I’ve long been a fan of Stephen Frears; and looking back, the opening night selections for the New York Film Festival have been pretty fantastic since the turn of the century. Regardless of whether they have all deserved “opening night” status, there hasn’t been a bad film in that slot since Woody thought his lechery looked better under the guise of Kenneth Branagh in Celebrity, and that was way back in 1998.

Then again, Frears strongest work was many years ago — The Grifters was 1990, and Dangerous Liaisons two years before — and although I loved High Fidelity, even that was way back in 2000. In the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately file, the only proof we have here in the states are the underwhelming Dirty Pretty Things and the flat-out blah Mrs. Henderson Presents, a film saved solely by its central performance from Judi Dench. So why expect a better experience from a film that also looks to be held together solely by a tremendous actress, and this time with a story focusing on the British monarchy’s reaction to the death of Princess Diana? I mean, I burnt out on Diana coverage years ago, so who needs two hours of examination now?

And yet, here I sit, still fascinated by what may not be the best movie of the year nor even the best selection in the festival, but is certainly one of the best put-together films I’ve seen in quite a while. A tremendous script by Peter Morgan executed exquisitely by Frears featuring an entire ensemble of actors who bring the most private of public characters to life, and at the very center of it all is Mirren who has certainly laid down the Oscar gauntlet this year. I’m not the first to say that, nor will I be the last. For most actresses, such a performance would be considered “career-defining.” For Mirren, we expect such mastery, and yet the realization she creates on screen with her Queen Elizabeth is something almost beyond description. To call her mesmerizing doesn’t do her justice just as the most fascinating examples of her greatness come at two points in the film during which she says nothing: while stranded in the mountains on her country estate waiting for a servant to come pick-up her and her damaged vehicle, and during a brief moment after giving a televised speech expressing to the world the royal family’s own sadness and sympathy (for and with the public) over Diana’s death. The latter moment is quite brief, but stayed with me long after the film was over. The Queen is forced to give this speech, one she does not want to nor thinks she should have to, but is made to recognize is necessary. The speech is not dishonest, but it also does not exactly represent the true feelings of the Royals, and once its over, Mirren manages to express every belief and emotion coursing through this very proud woman with just a look. Staring directly into the camera, not saying a word and with extreme subtlety and little movement, Mirren summarizes the entire film in one single moment, and it’s breathtaking.

As truly great as Mirren’s performance is, it is far from this film’s only virtue. The rest of the cast acquits itself splendidly, particularly Michael Sheen as Prime Minister Tony Blair. (No, he’s not the lost Sheen Brother; in fact, he’s actually British, of no relation to Martin or Charlie — or Emilio — and has always had the name Sheen, as opposed to Estevez.) Sheen not only physically resembles Blair, but really nails the speech patterns, tone and mannerisms with which we’ve all become familiar over the past decade.

But the true marvel of The Queen is how well Morgan and Frears manage to provide their point-of-views — which are fairly anti-monarchy and anti-Blair — while still treating every character not just fairly but sympathetically, particularly Blair and Queen Elizabeth. The paparazzi chase that caused Diana’s death is recreated; the majority of the outpouring of sadness by the British people is not as real footage of the throngs of people is integrated over-and-over again — some may say too much. Yet Frears and Morgan don’t put Diana forward as a saint by any means, nor do they demonize her. They do an excellent job of presenting both the beloved nearly-mythological Diana as well as the woman the royal family knew and, by the end, tolerated.

Even more elegantly, they manage to get across the tremendous hope the British felt when Labour and Blair swept into power and illustrate how well — heroically even — the Prime Minister handled himself, virtually forcing the monarchy to save itself, while also foreshadowing the character of a man who today is thought of as a major disappointment and America’s puppet and is now essentially being forced to resign. (Morgan and Frears also made a film a few years ago for British television called The Deal, which focused on the relationship between Blair and Gordon Brown, another Labour Party leader, the British Chancellor of the Exchequer, Blair’s biggest rival, and the likely next Prime Minister. A wonderfully funny little moment in The Queen comes when Blair is told that “Gordon is on the phone,” and Blair waves the call off saying he’ll call him back later.)

Most importantly, though, is the way that Morgan and Frears show how trapped we all feel by our own history and the familiar. It does not take long for the royal family to be forgiven by the majority of the British government. A poll is quoted stating that before the Queen made her televised speech, roughly 75% of the public had decided they wanted to do away with the monarchy. And yet, when Elizabeth finally returns to Buckingham Palace and in virtually unprecedented fashion steps out of the car before going through the gates in order to see the all the flowers and notes that have been left — angry messages putting her down — she is greeted by a crowd that loves her: women who curtsy, and a young girl who has flowers not to place for Diana’s memory but to give to the Queen herself.

Blair is presented as the one person in the film who recognizes and identifies with the majority of the British public, and yet his very act of doing so goes against all the proclamations he made coming to office — that he wanted to modernize British government and society. What Frears, Morgan and Sheen manage to handle so well is this dichotomy in Blair’s character. He’s not simply, as a certain American political party loves to say, a filp-flopper, but he’s eminently political as well. As heroic as he seems to be — standing up to his advisors and his wife because he believes the monarchy is important enough to the British public that it should be saved — he also gets called out by Queen Elizabeth at the end, who recognizes that Blair’s defending her from the press must have come at least partially from a place of self-preservation; he knows that one day the British papers could be savaging him just as easily as they have the royals. And of course, since at least 2003, that’s pretty much what has been happening.

The Queen certainly screams “Oscar bait” from virtually its first frame. A Miramax release which opened in New York the day after last Friday’s festival screenings and will start to expand around the country in limited release this weekend, when the film was over, I thought about how it was slightly sad that the Weinstein’s weren’t still running their old company. What a good time Harvey would have had campaigning for little gold statues for this one, and in this case, the film might even deserve at least some of the attention.