The Favourite
Directed by: Yorgos Lanthimos
Written by: Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara
Starring: Olivia Colman, Emma Stone, Rachel Weisz, Nicholas Hoult, Joe Alwyn, James Smith, Mark Gattis
Biography/Comedy/Drama - 119 min Reviewed by Charlie Juhl 29 Nov 2018
Written by: Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara
Starring: Olivia Colman, Emma Stone, Rachel Weisz, Nicholas Hoult, Joe Alwyn, James Smith, Mark Gattis
Biography/Comedy/Drama - 119 min Reviewed by Charlie Juhl 29 Nov 2018
Movie-goers only casually familiar with the English monarchy may have to do conduct a brief internet search to verify there was a Queen Anne who ruled Britain in the early 18th century - a female ruler sandwiched somewhere between Elizabeth I and Victoria. Although in 2018 Anne is a mostly forgotten entry on the magisterial timeline, she reigned during such transformative events as the union of England and Scotland and Britain’s rise to global power status. However, the history books, and the new film by Yorgos Lanthimos dramatizing those books, question who was truly steering the ship during those years. Lanthimos suggests an easily influenced and muddled Anne delegated decision-making authority to whomever successfully curried the most favor. Hewing close to historical fact, yet leaving ample room for comedy and hints of tragedy, The Favourite mocks the absurdity of Queen Anne’s court, shatters the genteel façade of regal refinement, and offers three fully-developed, three-dimensional characters played with aplomb by powerhouse female performers.
An iron fist rules the palace, but it is not the Queen’s. Lady Sarah (Rachel Weisz, The Light Between Oceans) strides through the hallways barking orders at the footmen, deliberately insulting the political opposition, and conducting statecraft at the behest of Queen Anne (Olivia Colman, Locke). Anne is usually wailing in bed punished by gout and grieving over severely unresolved issues regarding the deaths of all 17 of her children. Anne would rather fawn over her rabbits than pay mind to nagging problems such as taxes on the gentry to pay for war against the French. Should Anne venture from her apartments, Sarah is not far behind reminding her she looks like a badger and may have heard someone call her fat. Sarah and Anne grew up together; therefore, Sarah is afforded license as a truth-teller to insult Her Royal Highness.
An iron fist rules the palace, but it is not the Queen’s. Lady Sarah (Rachel Weisz, The Light Between Oceans) strides through the hallways barking orders at the footmen, deliberately insulting the political opposition, and conducting statecraft at the behest of Queen Anne (Olivia Colman, Locke). Anne is usually wailing in bed punished by gout and grieving over severely unresolved issues regarding the deaths of all 17 of her children. Anne would rather fawn over her rabbits than pay mind to nagging problems such as taxes on the gentry to pay for war against the French. Should Anne venture from her apartments, Sarah is not far behind reminding her she looks like a badger and may have heard someone call her fat. Sarah and Anne grew up together; therefore, Sarah is afforded license as a truth-teller to insult Her Royal Highness.
Based on surviving letters written by Anne and rumors which have descended down the ages with them, there may have been more to the relationship between the two ladies. Yorgos Lanthimos rips the rumor label from these insinuations and declares outright Sarah holds a sexual spell over Anne. Both women are married, but Anne appears in love with Sarah, pining for her attention, and only placated with a bout of forbidden lovemaking when Anne closes in on a true tantrum which may interfere with Sarah’s control over the state. If a closeted lesbian relationship is not enough to spin 18th-century powdered wigs, writers Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara ignite a love triangle when they introduce a third woman keen on attending to the Queen in a more intimate manner, the beguiling and scheming Abigail Hill (Emma Stone, Battle of the Sexes).
Sarah and Abigail are cousins, although while Sarah maneuvered through the ranks of power, Abigail lost her aristocratic status and begs Sarah for employment. Starting amongst the lowest maid staff who sleep piled up together on the kitchen floor, Abigail steadily proves her mettle, gains Sarah’s confidence, and more importantly, Anne’s attention. The persistent machinations of gaining and losing status by offering compliments and ridiculing adversaries set the tone for sharp-tongued dialogue infused with witty insults as characters bob and weave in a chorus of who’s in, who’s out. Sarah and Abigail eventually escalate from petty verbal spears to far more physical chess moves.
At times, I believe Lanthimos is making fun of Queen Anne and her coterie of fools. The imbecilic men who orbit Anne spend their days racing ducks and hurling tomatoes at a naked court jester. The script’s exultation of the feminine reduces masculinity to a lustful afterthought. Abigail’s new husband takes the cue to shut up and stay out of the way as Abigail talks to herself on how to overthrow Sarah while simultaneously giving her husband the world’s worst hand job on their honeymoon night. Lord Harley (Nicholas Hoult, Rebel in the Rye), believing he can exploit Abigail against Sarah to scheme his way to becoming Prime Minister, is frequently more concerned with his foppish looks fussing over his powder, makeup, and wig. The men in The Favourite are no more than children jumping up and down demanding women at least recognize they are in the room.
And even though The Favourite is a period, costume exercise in show off set decoration and costumes, Lanthimos avoids the temptation to go languid and stoic as many directors in this genre mistake stale for serious. The duck racing is in slow motion heightening the disconnect between the cloistered elite and the rest of humanity. During extended tracking shots watching main characters bounce up and down endless hallways, cinematographer Robbie Ryan plays with us with a wide angle, fisheye lens. Lanthimos may be saying something about palace spies or may be winking at us through a bit of cinematic ‘check this out’. The score tightens the tension screws as a plucked violin string is followed by a short note, over and over again.
Lanthimos’s version of historical drama twisted by a devious screenplay and spiced with contemporary flourishes will placate both genre purists and those who relish experimentation. The Favourite follows in the footsteps of giants like Amadeus which cast the template for all others to follow. It is brave enough to splash the water reminding us even in the most confining of stories, there is room to stretch, crack your knuckles, and sally forth with a wry grin. Cinema needs fresh blood daring enough to tackle tropes long thought set in stone and immune from reinterpretation. I expect no less from the man clever enough to create a film as button-pushing as The Lobster, so hold the door open as the new wave takes on the establishment.
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