The Crown

Last week Prince Andrew sat down for an interview with Newsnight presenter Emily Maitlis. He was obviously confident: the palace agreed that they wouldn’t see the questions beforehand. With time to prepare, this was never going to be a problem for Andrew. As a Royal, he would have the best PR team money could buy. He would be trained around the clock. Running down the Thames rehearsing his persuasive hand gestures. Flooring questions on where he was that evening. Bounding up Buckingham’s stairs, throwing his arms up in triumph. Andrew was going to deliver the knockout blow against the rumours. No one would be talking about them tomorrow. A blonde airhead is no match for silver tongue and spoon. This contest was over before it started.

Of course, it didn’t turn out that way.


If Andrew was advised on how to answer the questions, he must have done so with his fingers in his ears. He thought it ‘honourable’ to stay at a pedophile’s house, described Epstein’s attacks on young women ‘unbecoming’ and had no memory of having met a waist he held. The Andrew interview was proof positive that you can throw money at an education, but it doesn’t make it stick. It was also evidence that being a person of title doesn’t qualify you for veneration; you have to earn respect, regardless of your class and background.


The royals have a love-hate relationship with television. In the first series of Netflix’s The Crown we see how Phillip wants to take advantage of the medium to celebrate his wife’s coronation. By bringing this seismic event into the nation’s living room, he believed it would fortify the royal’s position in the nation’s hearts. Very few people would ever meet the Queen, but to see her on your screen meant she would feel a part of their lives.


In an episode of The Crown I’ve just watched you see the inverse. With the royals short of money, Phillip proposes they allow TV cameras into the palace, in order to record a quasi-Keeping Up With The Windsors. The 110-minute documentary Royal Family was a hit with viewers at the time. Curious to see how the other half lived, millions watched to see what the family chatted about across the table and in front of the TV. Despite its success, The Queen felt uncomfortable with the final programme, arguing that ‘the best we’ve come up with so far is ritual and mystery. Because it keeps us hidden while still in plain sight. The smoke and the mirrors. The mystery and the protocol is not there to keep us apart; it’s there to keep us alive.’ The mystique surrounding the royals is what perpetuates them; their reputation gossamer, come too close and it risks collapse. It’s why they’re shown enough on television to remind you they are there; it’s why though they avoid the microscope – unlike Andrew. A short look and they're Emperor-like; a longer look and it's The Emperor’s New Clothes.

Before the Kardashians, there were the Windsors.

Even though I’m no royalist, I love The Crown. I enjoy seeing the parallels and shifts with today’s society, recognising how some lessons have been learnt – and depressingly, some mistakes repeated. Take this series’ Aberfan episode. On 21^st October 1966, a colliery spoil tip avalanched into a primary school and other buildings, killing 144. Watching the episode I was reminded of Grenfell. Here, the community had expressed concerns over the growing slag heap, yet nothing was done. Just as residents had voiced objections to the cladding on their homes. At Grenfell, The Queen visited after two days. In Aberfan, it took her eight. The Crown lifts the metronomic clockface of the monarchy, giving you the complex mechanism that makes it tick. In Aberfan The Queen was slow to respond because she feared she would get in the way and detract from the work the emergency services were doing. Harold Wilson, Prime Minister of the time, rightly pointed out that amidst the rubble one needs to see the light. Regardless of whether it is right or wrong, The Queen for many is a symbol of greatness, a source of great pride. In despair they need to see that, to see her, to feel valued and ennobled. It was this lesson that she’s taken into major tragedies since.


The thing I like best about The Crown is learning about modern British history. I find royal history fairly interesting- how Princess Margaret’s relationship with a divorcee was kiboshed is particularly interesting, given how Charles’ marriage to Camilla was ratified fifty years later- but what most interests me is the politics. The first season features Churchill heavily, where you witness his re-birth, ill-health and resignation. A later episode which has him throw a geriatric tantrum over a portrait of him is sublime. This season features Harold Wilson as Prime Minister. Again, there’s modern day resonance with the press speculating on how a revolutionary left-wing leader will serve a person that represents conservative values. The questioning of a Labour leader’s patriotism is seen today with Corbyn, evidence that the times change, but republican-scare doesn’t.

I probably should say something about the actors given they’ve changed this season. Initially, I was unsure about Olivia Colman’s portrayal, favouring Clare Foy’s. Over time I’ve got used to her though, respecting the emotion she’s brought to the role, although still missing some of Foy’s subtleties. Tobias Menzies is a fantastic Phillip, a worthy successor to Matt Smith. Bonham Carter’s Margaret feels a tad like Bonham Carter’s Bonham Carter – she seems to miss some of the fizz and spark that Vanessa Kirby brought to the role. Overall though, the changes haven’t hurt a bit, and in an age of computerised ageing I’m pleased they’ve opted for cast changes as opposed to digital manipulation.


So even if Andrew has made you question the obscene privilege that comes with hereditary rule, I recommend The Crown. It’s not just about an out-of-touch family, diving in gold like Scrooge McDuck. It’s a story of an unremarkable woman that finds herself in the remarkable position of sitting with remarkable people and discussing remarkable events. Even though the show begins with her perched on a throne, it reduces her to a seat in a drawing room; looking to Prime Ministers for guidance and instruction. Peter Morgan shows her as ordinary, not extraordinary. Something as a republican I'm all for.


The Crown is available on Netflix.