Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw (2019)

The Low-Down: Sometimes, you build a cinematic universe by design (hopefully). Other times, you build it almost by accident. When The Fast And The Furious was released way back in 2001, no one could have foreseen it spawning a box-office-busting franchise that has since raked in more than $5 billion over eight films. Deciding to create this spin-off focusing on two of the franchise’s newest and most charismatic additions – the titular Hobbs and Shaw – must have been a no-brainer. Unfortunately, this film feels like a literal no-brainer too, its weak, cluttered script mostly failing to support its inexplicably talented cast.

The Story: If you’ve never watched a single Fast & Furious film (like this reviewer), you won’t be too lost. It’s fairly easy to pick up the threads of the spiky rivalry between American federal agent Luke Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) and British assassin-with-a-past Deckard Shaw (Jason Statham). Their mutual loathing takes a back-seat when both men end up on the same mission: chasing down a potentially world-destroying super-virus embedded in Deckard’s sister, MI6 agent Hattie Shaw (Vanessa Kirby). Hot on their heels is the cybernetically enhanced Brixton Lore (Idris Elba), who’s hellbent on securing the super-virus for his sinister employers.

The Good: When deployed effectively, Johnson and Statham are marvels of charisma and comic timing – well able to steal scenes, if not entire films, with snappy, snarky ease. On occasion, their electric charm and chemistry flare to life during Hobbs & Shaw, but it doesn’t happen often enough to save the film from its weak script and haphazard editing. That said, there’s some joy to be had in watching Hobbs & Shaw’s outrageously good supporting cast, which includes top-notch character actors like Helen Mirren and Eddie Marsan. Elba, for his part, acquits himself fairly well as a rampaging cyborg with a broken soul hidden somewhere beneath his menace and machinery.

The Not-So-Good: Unfortunately, the film never really lives up to the potential of its cast. The screenplay by Chris Morgan and Drew Pearce is frustratingly flabby. It’s the kind of script in which a strong female character is only as strong as the film needs her to be – Kirby tries her best, but is given next to nothing to flesh out the role of Hattie. Hobbs & Shaw also fails to help its titular double act move from the sidelines into the spotlight. Their incredibly juvenile playground bickering and bantering becomes wearisome after a while, making it harder to buy into the film’s attempts to delve into their histories and families. In grand Fast & Furious tradition, the action sequences are big and bonkers, bouncing from London to Moscow and even Samoa – but, shorn of effective character development, they also feel empty and soulless, strung together to pad out a running time that’s already far too long.

Lock It Down: If you’re familiar with Leitch’s recent filmography, you won’t be surprised by an extended cameo in Hobbs & Shaw that proves to be one of the film’s highlights. It’s the kind of blithely cheeky stuff that Leitch has proven he can pull off well – he juggled heart and humour to great effect in Deadpool 2. But Hobbs & Shaw never quite knows what it wants to be – silly or earnest, dumb or dark – and winds up being neither and nothing.

Recommended? Only if you’re a Fast & Furious devotee, or a diehard fan of Johnson and/or Statham. Otherwise, Hobbs & Shaw is a muddled mess that will sorely test your patience and tolerance for poorly-written, testosterone-fuelled shenanigans.

The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014)

Lasse Hallström is a master at whipping up the cinematic equivalent of comfort food: films that look, taste and feel quite wonderful, but which often succeed in spite of themselves and the ingredients from which they are made. From the quaint magic of Chocolat, he turns to the quaint magic of The Hundred-Foot Journey, a charming if resolutely unoriginal tale about how good food, good cooking and good humour can overcome even the most apparently insurmountable of cultural differences.

Following a devastating fire that ushers in a political environment in which they can no longer be safe in their own home, the Kadam family – led by its patriarch (Om Puri) – leaves India for other lands. They wind up in the picturesque south of France, in a village where mushrooms grow wild and delicious and Madame Mallory (Helen Mirren) presides prissily over her renowned Michelin-starred restaurant. Mr. Kadam resolves to open his own Indian restaurant right across the street – a mere hundred feet away – where his gifted son Hassan (Manish Dayal) will tantalise customers with the spicy, home-cooked dishes he learnt to make in his mother’s kitchen. And so begins the clash between cultures and cuisines: one that grows all the more complicated as Hassan’s ambitions do.

There’s really nothing on Hallström’s menu that you haven’t had before, often done better, but he nevertheless serves up a delightful feast for the senses. The Hundred-Foot Journey is charming and cheerful, effectively mining its characters and their differences for welcome humour and pathos. Indeed, the beautifully-shot film is at its best when Madame Mallory and Mr. Kadam declare war upon each other’s establishments: the former buys out the fresh seafood from the village market, the latter turns up the music and the spice in stealing her customers. They bicker and banter with great verve and energy, even as her staff and his family struggle to keep the peace – or to escalate the war. It’s a battle that the two protagonists secretly enjoy, and one that will enormously entertain audiences despite its home-spun predictability.

The film falters somewhat as it heads into its final third, when Hassan’s gifts as a chef – and not a mere cook – are finally acknowledged by Madame Mallory and the culinary world. As he takes baby steps into the commercial world of high-end, Michelin-starred cuisine, he and the film move away from the folksy sweetness that makes The Hundred-Foot Journey such a joy to watch. In fact, his budding romance with Marguerite (Charlotte Le Bon), a spunky sous-chef in Madame Mallory’s kitchen who introduces him to the art and craft of French cuisine, takes on an increasingly sour note as the film goes on. His talent and ambition threaten to overwhelm hers, and their rivalry bears none of the surprisingly natural give-and-take which distinguishes the relationship that springs up between Madame Mallory and Mr. Kadam.

In the film’s better and poorer moments, it’s Hallström’s cast that truly liven up proceedings. Mirren is wonderful as the fussy, apparently uptight Madame Mallory. An imposing, occasionally terrifying presence, Mirren sweeps imperiously through her kitchen and the film, but never loses sight of her character’s softer, sadder side. She’s well-matched by Puri, with whom she shares a fun, sparky chemistry. He, too, conjures up a lifetime of love and memories of his late wife, while radiating a cheeky joie de vivre in his battle of wits with the haughty lady across the street. Dayal is charm personified, lending Hassan a weight and charisma that helps retain audience sympathies even when he grows up and into his new profession.

There’s something almost determinedly old-fashioned about The Hundred-Foot Journey – it’s the kind of quaint, mild-tempered film in which characters trade banter as the sky behind them is painted with fireworks. It’s hardly revolutionary, and it’s not especially original either. Sometimes, it borders on the maudlin. And yet, with surprising skill, Hallström (mostly) keeps the entire confection sweet, soothing and light as air – finding in his actors and characters so much heart and goodwill that it would be difficult to resist their charm, even when the film occasionally stumbles.

Basically: Occasionally difficult and slow, this Journey nevertheless boasts its own quaint, irresistible charms.

Red 2 (2013)

In 2010, cheerfully ridiculous action comedy Red turned up in cinemas with an absolute gem of a premise. Instead of going younger and more nubile, as per Hollywood’s wont, its cast would be led by Bruce Willis, Helen Mirren and John Malkovich, all playing badass ex-secret service agents who had been branded Retired Extremely Dangerous (R.E.D., geddit?). Great idea, okay execution, good-ish movie. What’s surprising about Red 2 is that it’s actually better than its predecessor in almost every way. With a different director (Dean Parisot) at the helm, the film revels in its concept, making its script feel tighter and the action more bruising even if it really isn’t.

Frank (Willis) is still trying his hardest to properly retire, which isn’t going too well now that his girlfriend Sarah (Mary-Louise Parker) has had a taste of the super-spy business. His quiet life is uprooted once again when his crazy best friend and former colleague Marvin (Malkovich) turns up to warn him of imminent danger arriving courtesy of Nightshade, the lethal weapon they lost track of during the Cold War. With governments putting contract killers like Victoria (Mirren) and Han (Lee Byung-Hun) on their trail, the trio must solve the mystery surrounding Prof. Bailey (Anthony Hopkins), the man who created Nightshade and has been thought dead for decades.

The biggest draw for Red 2 remains the same as for its predecessor: the mindbogglingly accomplished cast, wielding guns and snappy one-liners, taking no prisoners, looking impossibly cool. It’s why we go to the movies. The trouble with having such a great cast is that the movie might get lost in the shuffle of so many huge personalities vying for attention. This is where Parisot’s skill at handling a comic ensemble – demonstrated to great effect in sublime cult-classic Galaxy Quest – really shines through. Rather than cycling through all the characters in a perfunctory way, he somehow manages to give them all several beats to breathe within the breakneck pace of the film.

As a result, the chemistry amongst his cast really crackles, and so does the action and comedy of it all. Willis slips effortlessly back into the skin of his reluctant hero, while Malkovich’s Marvin is as barmy and full of non sequiturs as ever – not to mention relationship advice that he seems woefully unqualified to give. Parker is tart and sexy, playing well off Catherine Zeta-Jones at her very sultriest as Frank’s former Russian paramour Katja. Even Lee – in what would typically be an underbaked role – drops zingers as well as he does kicks and punches.

The greatest reward of Red 2 lies in watching Proper Thespians Mirren and Hopkins having the times of their lives. Mirren has marginally less screen-time in this film, but she’s spectacular anyway, brandishing guns that seem to fit perfectly well in her patrician hands while gleefully sending up her own Oscar-winning role in The Queen. Hopkins, meanwhile, is clearly relishing the opportunity to play every facet of Bailey: from genial to bonkers and all the shades of crazy and clueless in between.

If there’s anything that detracts from the general sense of chirpy joy that pervades the entire film, it’s the rickety plot that literally implodes on itself by the end. Parisot actually does an admirable job of disguising or glossing over the sillier moments in the script, bluffing his way through Sarah’s encounter with inexplicably spineless master-spy The Frog (David Thewlis). He keeps all the plates spinning well until the film’s final ten minutes, which manage to go nuclear and anti-climactic at the same time.

That’s probably a big reason why critics have generally responded sniffily to the film, labelling it inconsequential at best and a lazy retread of its predecessor at worst. While it’s certainly true that the film isn’t perfect, it’s hard to begrudge Red 2 its muddled ending when the rest of the film is such a blast of cool, summery fun. Sometimes, all you want is to see some great actors playing against type, toting guns and biting out quips, in a blithely ridiculous movie with its default setting switched to ‘entertain’. Red 2 checks all those boxes and more.

Basically: Blissfully bonkers in the best way.

Monsters University (2013)

Remember those days long, long ago when Pixar maintained that they weren’t really in the business of making sequels to their perfectly-crafted animated gems? They maintained, quite admirably, that there would be no cashing-in or selling-out when it came to the integrity of their story ideas and universes. Today, with two Toy Story sequels (hugely successful), Cars 2 (arguably worse than the first) and the upcoming Finding Dory filling its filmography, Pixar has clearly recognised the benefits (financially and otherwise) of brand recognition at the box office.

Pretty much anyone who’s wondered why Pixar has held off on picking up where it left off with The Incredibles (easily its most sequel-worthy film to date) in favour of dwelling in the Cars universe – there’s even an impending spin-off called Planes – have justly lamented this decision. But Pixar has also proven with its two utterly delightful, excellent Toy Story sequels that it’s entirely possible to pick up a story in a way that expands rather than cheapens what came before it.

How, then, does Monsters University fare? This sequel that’s actually a prequel arrives in cinemas twelve years after its predecessor Monsters Inc., which so memorably established a parallel-but-connected universe of monsters who gather energy from the terrified bedtime scream of little kids in our world to power their own. Is this second film strictly necessary? Not really. Monsters Inc. remains a film that’s perfectly self-contained. But what this finely-crafted, well-thought-through prequel does do very well is expand on an already-established universe, shading in colour, depth and complexity for characters and making audiences all the more excited to (re-)discover the film that inspired it.

As the title makes amply clear, Monsters University takes one-eyed green monster ball Mike (voiced by Billy Crystal) and fearsomely furry James P. “Sulley” Sullivan (John Goodman) back to their college years – a time when the two best buddies could barely stand to be in the same room with each other. The two monsters clash in a bitter, seemingly irreconcilable way: Mike is working furiously hard to get into the renowned Scaring Programme, but isn’t really all that scary himself; whereas Sulley comes from a long, naturally gifted line of Scarers and is confident that genetics will get him through his exams. When the duo bicker their way into the bad books of the legendary, fearsome Dean Hardscrabble (voiced deliciously by Helen Mirren), they have to fight doubly hard to win their coveted places in the Scaring Programme.

As with all great prequels, Monsters University does a superlative job of revisiting old characters in a new, refreshing light. The film not only shows us how Mike and Sulley become best friends, but also how they grew up and learnt a little about life and themselves. The bond that they forge as they participate in the college-wide Scare Games is wonderfully developed: from the first moment when they take a dislike to each other, through their reluctant decision to work together, right until they’ve found their way towards a deep, powerful mutual respect. Along the way, Pixar doesn’t forget to have lots of fun, peppering their the proceedings with its characteristic humour and unexpected depth.

The film is also packed with delightful details and thoroughly charming supporting characters. The cliques that make up the Scare Game teams range from alpha jocks to fearsome sorority sisters, all of them memorably designed and equipped with sassy quips or character quirks. But it’s the sweetly pathetic Oozma Kappa brothers – including mature student Don (Joel Murray), Siamese twin monsters Terri (Sean Hayes) and Terry (Dave Foley), the incredibly random Art (Charlie Day) and the insanely adorable Squishy (Peter Sohn) – who will, well, ooze into your hearts and take up residence there. 

Pretty much the only thing that could count against the film – and it’s not even technically a flaw – is that the story is a little too far-removed for an audience of tiny tots. The morals and friendship of this particular story skew far older – while Pixar has been an absolute master on previous occasions of creating films that work on multiple levels, Monsters University is remarkably grown-up fare that might well leave little ones bored by the end. After the screams and shenanigans surrounding the Scare Games fade away, the narrative goes considerably deeper and darker, with Mike and Sulley having to confront and accept not just each other, but themselves, for who they really are. There’s a moment set by a moonlit lake that’s profoundly moving for anyone who’s been to college, or been torn down by life. But it’s not a moment that will sit well with a tot who simply doesn’t have the patience to sit through long, heartfelt conversations about life, reality and disappointments.

Sequels often have a poor rep among movie fans – prequels all the more so. (Think Star Wars: I rest my case.) Apart from its longer-than-really-warranted dalliance in the Cars universe, Pixar has proven that it’s possible to create sequels that do justice to – if not improve on – already great movies. With the care, heart and passion lavished upon Monsters University, the animation studio proves that it can also work minor miracles when going back into the timelines of characters we’ve already met once before.

Basically: Pixar scares up lots of laughs with Monsters University, but also comes of age with a film that skews far older than ever before.

Hitchcock (2012)

At the very height of his powers, legendary director Alfred Hitchcock didn’t so much play the Hollywood game as completely change it. His best films – and Psycho is right up there amongst them – shook up the industry and cinematic landscape after they were released, even if it sometimes took a few decades for their brilliance to be properly appreciated. Perhaps it’s unfair to expect that same level of brilliance from Sacha Gervasi’s Hitchcock, but it’s also hard to shake the feeling that its subject deserved something more powerful than this gentle biopic about a very complicated genius.

Flash back to November 1959. The great Alfred Hitchcock (Anthony Hopkins) is about to begin shooting the film that will become the crown jewel of his career… though, of course, he doesn’t know that yet. Instead, he is mired in production woes on a day-to-day basis, plagued by financial constraints, a script that needs re-working, wary censors, and his own demons and self-doubt. Through it all, Hitchcock’s constant remains his loyal, immensely capable wife Alma (Helen Mirren), who gives up glory and a career of her own to take care of a man who loves and infuriates her in equal measure.

Anyone who’s expecting a suspenseful brain-teaser or a biting psychological drama in grand Hitchcockian style will be disappointed. Gervasi tries to spice up proceedings by introducing real-life serial killer Ed Gein (Michael Wincott) into Hitchcock’s psyche. The periodic visits from the man who was the inspiration for Psycho‘s sociopath Norman Bates were clearly intended to draw a parallel between the man who sublimates his demons by making movies, and the one who indulges them by committing unforgivable crimes. Unfortunately, the device is more intrusive than effective. It breaks up the narrative and feels forced.

A big reason that Mr Gein feels so out of place is the fact that Hitchcock is really more of a love story – a domesticated little picture focusing almost squarely on Hitchcock’s prickly, loving relationship with Alma. She is the glue that holds the man and his movie together, and it’s when she drifts away from him – possibly into the arms of second-rate screenwriter Whitfield Cook (Danny Huston) – that Hitchcock frays at the seams. As the movie goes on, it becomes clearer why he stayed with her all his life, despite his notorious penchant for beautiful blonde bombshells like his star Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johansson).

As can be expected, Hopkins and Mirren deliver commanding performances. They don’t really look much like their real-life counterparts, even with Hopkins encased in a fat suit and expensive prosthetics, but they’re both such skilful and smart actors that it’s easy to believe that they’re companions, confidants and combatants in much the same way Hitchcock and his Alma must have been. The younger cast members fare well enough, with James D’arcy putting in a particularly uncanny turn as Anthony Perkins, the boyish, twitchy star of Psycho.

For what it is, Hitchcock is pretty slight – it’s not going to set either the box office or the movie industry on fire. But, on its own merits, this is a sweet, smart film that imbues its iconic title character with a little humanity – while never suggesting he’s a saint – and returns some of that hard-earned glory to his long-suffering wife.

Basically: Hitchcock wouldn’t have made a film this safe and sweet, but he’s unlikely to be too upset by its tender portrayal of his relationship with his beloved wife.

Written for F*** Magazine

National Treasure: Book Of Secrets (2007)

You know when big silly action movies try to pretend they’re not big silly action movies, and gussy up all the explosions and karate chops with big words and pompous concepts that don’t make much sense? (Step up to the witness stand, any movie in the trilogy that wasn’t the original Matrix.) That’s another black mark for a movie you were never going to take seriously anyway. So thank heaven for the blissfully, cheerfully cheesy National Treasure franchise – when the first film popped up on the movie radar some three years ago, it was critically derided… but went on to become a massive box office hit and a favourite on the DVD circuit. I suspect National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets – equally audacious, playing equally fast and loose with American history and random action scenes – is headed in the same direction. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Our intrepid (but sadly balding) hero Ben Gates (Nicolas Cage) is back, this time compelled by the unveiling of an aged historical document by sinister villain-alike Mitch Wilkinson (Ed Harris) to clear the name of his ancestor – who would want to be descended from someone allegedly involved in a massive conspiracy to assassinate President Lincoln? So Ben enlists the help of his trusty team – estranged girlfriend Abigail (Diane Kruger), geeky wannabe author Riley (Justin Bartha) and his professor dad Patrick (Jon Voight) – as he sets out to uncover clues hidden in (you guessed it!) cherished antiques located all over the world. It wouldn’t be National Treasure if Ben et al weren’t attempting to pull off some ridiculously difficult heist at the most security-conscious locations on the face of this earth. Before long, Ben has roped in his feisty mom Emily (Helen Mirren) and the President of the United States (Bruce Greenwood) on his hunt for the fabled lost city to satisfy Mitch’s own burning desire for a historical legacy he can be proud of again…

So when they say check your brain at the door when you watch this movie, they really mean it with Secrets. The film is loud, crazy, makes very little logical or practical sense, and delights in it. From little things like Ben starting an argument with Abigail to get locked up by Buckingham Palace security, through to breaking into the White House and/or kidnapping the President, there’s nothing criminal and completely insane that Ben won’t try. Which doesn’t make for much realism, surely. But as a wish-fulfilment escapist fantasy? Totally hits the spot and gets your blood racing and your butt at the edge of your seat. How’s that for a trifecta! A car chase through the jam-packed streets of London? Check! A race through the Library of Congress in search of POTUS’ Book of Secrets? Double check! A massive massive climax in the caves as water tumbles by with the speed of a rushing flood? Triple check! Of course, it makes no sense. If you wanted sense, you wouldn’t be watching this film. So it’s difficult to criticise Secrets for committing this crime, when it doesn’t much care to begin with.

What you can accuse the film of, however, is being less fun than its predecessor. Secrets doesn’t suffer greatly from the dreaded sequelitis: the whole enterprise is still candy-light and fun, breezily charming and featuring great, loose performances from unexpectedly seasoned performers (Mirren aka friggin’ Queen Elizabeth, anyone?). I even like Cage in this franchise, and I don’t as a rule think of him as a particularly arresting actor. Problem is that the film does feel rather a lot like a retread: at some points, it’s clear that the script and the actors are going through the motions. They’re having fun, sure, lots of it. But it does seem like they know they’re not making anything that’s going to be particularly well-regarded (though fondly remembered it might be) years down the line. The banter between Ben and Abigail that stood out so much in the first film doesn’t get much of a look-in here either, as the gossamer-thin but unusually convoluted plot barrels merrily on its way towards a conclusion. More characters also means more chances to have next to no character development: Mirren does have fun with the uptight Emily, who still terrifies Patrick after decades of divorce, but she’s the exception. Harris’ Mitch treads a fairly predictable path of minor villainy before the film’s final twist.

If you didn’t like the first film, and thought it to be a complete waste of time, don’t even bother with this one. It’s pretty much exactly the same – as it takes a rough tumble through American history with, well, very little consideration for actual facts – though it’s certainly a little the worse for wear. But if news that the franchise was going to go into a second installment (and probably a third, given its cryptic ending!) gave you a bit of a guilty thrill, you’ll find plenty of pure random adrenaline and fun, silly moments crammed into this film. It’s pretty clear no one involved in the making of Secrets took it very seriously, and just had a blast making it – which translates into a cheerfully brainless movie that proves to be a great way to distract yourself from the real world for a couple of hours.

The Queen (2006)

A dramatisation of the quiet turmoil that engulfed the British royal family the week immediately after Princess Diana’s death in a fiery car crash in 1997, The Queen is a study in irony, comedy and propriety – at times wildly funny, at others cringingly painful as the title character, Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren), struggles to understand and deal with the tidal wave of compassion and sympathy from a grieving public for a princess the world never really knew. All she knows is what she has been brought up to believe – that she is performing a service for her country and her people, and that duty must always come before self. And in this instance, her duty, she firmly believes, is to mourn with quiet dignity, and to keep her grandsons safe from the maelstrom of publicity surrounding Buckingham Palace. Remaining firmly sequestered in the private royal estate of Balmoral, Elizabeth is buoyed by her even more staunchly conservative relatives: her husband Prince Philip (James Cromwell), whose solution to his grandchildren’s sorrow is to resort to the age-old practice of hunting; and the Queen Mother (Sylvia Syms). Only the newly-elected upstart of a Labour Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) understands just how wrongly the royal family has taken the pulse of the nation… and the queen must struggle both against her family and her own every impulse to decide whether to take Blair’s advice to save the monarchy from destruction.

Director Stephen Frears, no stranger to British films about feisty old ladies (he directed TQ fresh off Mrs Henderson Presents), takes his time in laying out the stilted, greatly regulated environment in which Elizabeth has lived all her life. From simple niceties of protocol (the way in which visitors must enter and bow their heads at the neck, just so) to how her flunkies and advisors remain mired in a world of precedent (using the Queen Mother’s own artfully orchestrated, already rehearsed funeral for Diana – a priceless scene!), Frears takes great delight in poking fun at all these conventions that have always been shackles for Elizabeth, albeit ones she has always borne with great equanimity. There is much painful comedy to be had here, as the Queen Mother prevaricates about how she cannot understand the public reaction to Diana’s death; but also cringeworthy drama (Prince Philip pompously declaring to his “cabbage” that the people will invariably come to their senses and realise that the royals’ way of doing things is the right way). Frears then presents a totally different picture of the apparently liberated, modernising arm of the government, as Blair’s decidely anti-monarchist wife Cherie (Helen McCrory) continually mocks the queen for staying on her “40,000 acres”, or when his thrillingly arrogant press squad – led by who else but Alastair Campbell (Mark Bazeley) – repeatedly denounce the queen for being hopelessly old-fashioned and out-of-date. Blair here becomes the surprising middle man: increasingly sympathetic to Elizabeth’s plight and dignity, he tries to defend her against the worst of the media onslaught, and advises her how best to face the crisis in an information age like nothing she has seen before.

The art in this movie really comes from the wonderfully subtle characterisations brought to life out of screenwriter Peter Morgan’s words. Elizabeth, thanks in no small part to Mirren’s fantastic performance, is at once the picture of dignified strength, and a study in pent-up frustration and vulnerability. That Elizabeth is barely afforded a single moment of open, naked emotion (Mirren only once resorts to tears, and even for that split second, her face is never shown) makes it all the more amazing that the queen in this movie becomes so much more than just a hardened stereotype. She is very much a real person, from her concerns for her grandson to her frustration with the people’s fascination with Diana, and even her wistfulness when she mentions to Philip that their son Charles (Alex Jennings) had revered Diana’s mothering skills – implicitly criticising Elizabeth and her own lack of demonstrativeness. Mirren, in a career of outstanding performances, truly deserves every accolade thrown her way this awards season. With so little opportunity to emote and really show off her acting chops, Mirren nevertheless makes Elizabeth a magnetic, engaging character – suggesting nobility in the way her character stands, and the heavy, all-pervasive sense of duty etched into Elizabeth’s every feature when she finally delivers her first live address in an arch public voice that sounds nothing like her own far less pretentious speech patterns.

It’s a tour de force performance in a uniformly good cast. Sheen is another standout as the charming, effervescent Blair. Still young and a little cocky by the end of the movie, but wiser for having realised the role thrust upon Elizabeth that she must play until she dies, Sheen’s far more effusive Blair is an excellent counterpoint to the restrained monarch. It’s something of a pity, though, that Blair comes across as almost too one-dimensionally good in this movie – his growing support for Elizabeth culminates in a couple of slightly corny speeches from him about the role she plays in society, that come off less intelligent than cheesy. Cherie is also practically played for straight villainy, as are Philip and the Queen Mother on the flip side of the coin. But Elizabeth’s trusted aide Robin Janvrin (Roger Allam) does get a look-in as a devoted servant always looking out for his queen’s interests, even daring to intercede with the prime minister of his country to plead for help on her behalf.

Smart and involving though it may be, however, TQ fails to fully engage the audience emotionally. It’s difficult to be thoroughly immersed in the situation in which poor Elizabeth finds herself mired, partly because of the strong streak of irony that runs through the film – it’s hard to come to care much for a character when you’ve just laughed raucously at another example of how ludicrous some of her beliefs and aspects of her daily regimen are. For Elizabeth’s emotional epiphany and catharsis to take the form it does as well, in a creature she should feel less for than she did for the very human Diana, is a bold but ultimately unsuccessful move. Some characters are frustratingly under-developed – Charles, for example, seems less pained father than calculating opportunist (‘What a family!’, Alastair at one point comments as Charles moves to distance himself from his mother, the sinking ship in terms of losing public goodwill), and others such as the Queen Mother and Prince Philip remain strict stereotypes meant to move the plot along but yet fail to strike much of an emotional connection with the audience.

Still, TQ remains a rewarding watch – it has much to say, for instance, about the new information age we live in, and the role the media has in shaping both the actions and destinies of public figures to an extent unimaginable just a few decades ago. As a study of a modern, marginalised monarchy and the obligations and demands still placed upon it by a rapidly growing and vastly different public, TQ is also smart and fairly balanced in its (at times) overly ambitious story-telling efforts. For a tale so consumed with the idea of keeping up appearances, Frears manages to dig beneath the pristine veneer of his lead character and teach us some home truths along the way.