[7.8/10] I tend to appreciate The Crown for its stories of personal transformation, its artful lighting and lavish production design, its broader themes of institutional entropy, and its connections, however fictionalized, to broad events of history that are made more visceral and real when channeled through something personal.
And yet, I gotta say, there’s something fun about it in episodes like this, where it is basically a glossy soap opera. There is so much family drama, so much “hot goss” at play, as the kids say, that I cannot help but enjoy it for its sheer, pulpy thrills.
Which is all to say that watching the Windsors and the Mountbattens and the various other powers that be conspire to break-up Charles and Camilla is a riot. The Crown is typically engrossing, but is often stately and serious. “Imbroglio” still makes some legitimate points and hits a few more high-minded scenes. But it’s also outright colorful in a way not every episode of the series is.
To the point, I gotta tell you, I cannot help but love the scene where Dickie Mountbatten and the Queen Mother get together to begin conniving a way to split up their grandson and his girlfriend. Of all things, it reminded me of Livia and Uncle Junior conspiring over Tony in The Sopranos which, let me tell you, is not a flattering comparison for the characters. There’s something downright diabolical in the two of them engineering the same sort of machinations that screwed up the lives of royals for two generations now, going on a third.
But I take that to be the serious point of the episode -- stubbornness in the face of an obvious error. We see several scenes of Prime Minister Heath being downright obstinate when negotiating, or more accurately warring, against a mine workers strike. The ensuing electricity cutbacks, blackouts, and other fuel-saving measures permeate the episode, with candles lighting up the palace and naval desk lamps flickering on and off.
Amid the lantern-lit settings, the Queen recognizes that the PM is in the wrong, morally and practically. In her own polite, guarded way, she calls him to the carpet for being too stubborn and drawing unnecessary lines in the sand that end up hurting everybody. Only, of course, she’s allowing her family to do the same thing, and is set to wreak the same consequence the family has in the past while bucking up against Edward and Margaret and other such situations that have caused great damage. (Though hey, it’s worth noting that if it kept a Nazi-sympathizer off the throne, it’s not all bad!)
I’ll admit, I appreciate the character consistency there. This is another situation like Margaret’s, where Elizabeth is initially supportive of the love match and defends the right for royals to choose whomever they care for in this day and age, only to be dragged into the muck by the entropy of familial plotting and the need to protect The Crown.
What I find extra fascinating though is that she’s against it, and even calls Dickie and her mom into the principal’s office for a dressing down, until she finds out that Camilla’s heart may belong to another, or that she’s at least conflicted. It’s not entirely consistent with her cold demeanor in the Wales episode, but I like the idea that what changes her mind isn’t simply that Camilla is “merely a girl you have fun with,” but that Camilla doesn’t really love her son, which obliterates her reasons for approving despite the elder generation’s concerns.
Less charitably, you could say she doesn’t want a scandal of a love triangle damaging the crown, but I think she genuinely seems to care about her son here and doesn’t him to get hurt, and most especially, doesn’t want to hurt him. That’s why she sends Dickie in to be her hatchet man.
As with the last episode, you get a keen sense of history repeating itself. You can see Edward and Wallis’ hooks getting into Charles, with his pursuit of a one true love and sense of resentment for a family he increasingly views as against him: for his wittiness and intelligence and freethinking individuality. The impressionists look back at his family in the teaser drives it home with a sledge-hammer, but the stylization works to communicate Charles’ feeling in a palpable way.
You feel for the kid, having what he at least believes is his true love ripped away from him. You feel for Elizabeth to some degree, with circumstance and monarchical inertia again denying her the ability to support a loved one. And knowing the future, you also just lament the short-sightedness of these people, obstinately trying to solve one supposed problem while inadvertently creating another that will last decades and create the most serious threat to the perception of The Crown during Elizabeth's reign.
All of that said, it’s hard not to just laugh at the teenage pining of Charles, at the backdoor horsetrading of the Queen Mother calling in the Shands and the Parker Bowleses to engineer a marriage of convenience, or especially Anne’s little interrogation. I gotta say, Anne has quickly become one of my favorite characters on the show. Her sarcastic responses to her parents and grandparents, her take-no-shit attitude about the whole thing, and her frank admittance of just wanting to have a little fun all make her a stand-out in my book.
That’s the best trick The Crown has, one it returns to again and again. The tug-of-war among the generations happens in parallel with a tug-of-war between the government and the workers. The questions over Charles’ love life are steeped in debates over whether Camilla’s presence would give him stability and confidence, or create more scandal for the English monarchy.
But at its core, this is a base family drama. You can imagine middle class parents fretting over their son’s choice, grandparents conspiring with one another to scuttle it, teenagers mooning over the object of their affections and rebelling against familial interference. The clothes are fancy; the palaces are ornate, and the stakes are nationwide. But at the end of the day, this is still a brand of prosaic family bickering and drama that we humble commoners deal with. Seeing the aristocrats stoop to throwing mud at one another, and getting stuck in the familiar muck in the process, is base, but entertaining. I can readily say -- I’m for it.
I've much more interest in things like the miners strike than anyone's love life and relations. It's like a royal soap opera.
Shout by IsabelblueBlockedParent2019-12-08T23:45:15Z
«No, the time you’re most vulnerable is when you’re out at sea. Something about the waves. One begins to disappear. And the suddenly, you’re somewhere else entirely. And there’s a feeling I’ve never had before. A sense of safety and belonging and all that loneliness having vanished».
—
«Il momento in cui sei più vulnerabile è quando sei in mare. C’è qualcosa nelle onde. A un tratto inizi a scomparire. E all’improvviso sei da tutt’altra parte. E provo un sentimento mai provato prima. Un senso di sicurezza e di appartenenza e tutta quella solitudine è svanita».