The Favourite
(UK/Ireland/USA, 120 min.)
Dir. Yorgos Lanthimos, Writ. Deborah Davis, Tony McNamara
Starring: Olivia Colman, Emma Stone,
Rachel Weisz, Nicholas Hoult, Joe Alwyn
 |
| Rachel Wesiz and Olivia Colman in The Favourite Photo by Yorgos Lanthimos / Fox Searchlight Pictures |
The Favourite is a
saucy delight. Buoyed by a trio of courtly wenches in award-calibre
performances, this spirited portrait of the affairs of Queen Anne in 1700ish
Britain is a darkly funny romp. It’s the cleverest take on All About Eve since Working
Girl as social climbing strumpet Abigail (Emma Stone) seeks to dethrone her
cousin, Lady Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Malborough (Rachel Weisz) as the
Queen’s BFF. Both ladies cozy up to Queen Anne (Olivia Colman) and assure her
that she’s the bee’s knees when all evidence points to the contrary. These mean
girls have cruel intentions.
Directed with whacked-out audacity by Yorgos Lanthimos (The Lobster, The Killing of a Sacred Deer), The
Favourite kicks costume drama conventions in the rear with a meticulously
detailed, yet vibrantly contemporary interpretation of the gendered dynamics of
power and control in ye olden days. From the costumes by Sandy Power to the
off-kilter lensing by Robbie Ryan to the formidable ensemble cast, each frame
is extravagantly composed to turn the tropes of the period dramas on their heads. The ladies of The Favourite fight for queen and country—and the most wicked trick of Lanthimos's direction is the special emphasis that the characters place on the first syllable of the latter.
England is at war with France, but the most powerful people in the land, if not the world, are more concerned with racing ducks, throwing oranges, and tasting these exotic fruits called “pineapples.” The skewering of English aristocracy has never been funnier. The spirit of Tom Jones and Barry Lyndon endures as The Favourite takes audiences to court for the mother of all catfights.
England is at war with France, but the most powerful people in the land, if not the world, are more concerned with racing ducks, throwing oranges, and tasting these exotic fruits called “pineapples.” The skewering of English aristocracy has never been funnier. The spirit of Tom Jones and Barry Lyndon endures as The Favourite takes audiences to court for the mother of all catfights.
Naturally, it starts with an outsider, Abigail, who refuses
to accept her place. Abigail comes from a respectable family, but her father’s
gambling problems forced her into an early marriage that lowered her social
rank. Her plan to step up is to request employment in the Queen’s company at
the behest of her cousin, Lady Sarah, who manages Queen Anne’s affairs—of many
kinds (wink, wink)—as the film dabbles with the salacious bits of history in
which the munching of the Royal Rug is the highest position a lady of the court
may hold. The power play begins innocently enough with Abigail scooting out to
grab some herbs to soothe Anne’s gout, but, following a few lashes from Sarah,
Abigail makes a point of letting Queen Anne know that she is responsible for
the balmy treatment, leaving it to the Queen to invite her back to the bedchamber.
That’s how these little games begin. Everyone at court knows
that Queen Anne is not well, physically or mentally, and a band rivals
surrounds her and courts her for their own gains. The war distracts Sarah’s attention away from girly stuff with the Queen as she uses
her savvy political prowess to build England’s power. In the court, battles are
drawn between the powerful Whigs and the opposing Tories—and both parties know
that the Queen only needs a compliment, insult, or light breeze to
be influenced.
There are great layers to the personal and political
rivalries within the Queen’s castle as Abigail and Sarah trade blows tit-for-tat
in a battle of advances, retreats, and retaliations. However, wars are also
waged through allies and Abigail takes up a liking to Tory leader Robert Harley
(Nicholas Hoult). She uses the power of information to dethrone Sarah, who
stands in high favour with the Whigs and encourages the Queen to keep spending
dollars and lives on this costly war. The band of rivals scurries about the
court, adapting to Anne’s moody temperament and ongoing histrionics. Lanthimos
lends the circus of backstabbing a contemporary panache as the women wield the
power while the men concern themselves with witticisms and frivolous arcana,
like Film Twitter boys reciting the rules for Fight Club (Fincher, 1999).
The Favourite finds
in its three stars a powerhouse love triangle for royal comedy. Stone’s vulgar
Americanness contrasts splendidly with Weisz’s dignified Englishness. Abigail
is a calculating tease and Stone, who often plays these wholesome all-American
girls, is a hoot performing against type. She’s a rollicking lead for The Favourite’s trifecta of actresses as
Abigail schemes, backstabs, and undermines Sarah with an eye to usurp her
position. Weisz, on the other hand, brings, poise, composure, and confidence to
the equation. Sarah is posh and powerful, and she knows it, and her
relationship with Anne is alternatively tender and authoritative. She is slyly
funny, unscrupulously Machiavellian, and faintly aroused by Abigail’s threat to
her power, using this personal affair as a sparring match for the greater war
she and her husband hope to win for England.
As great as Stone and Weisz are, however, The Favourite belongs
to Olivia Colman. The great actress from Peep
Show, London Road, Tyrannosaur, and The Irony Lady has an uncanny ability to turn on a dime and display
shifts of consciousness in a character in the way few actors, like Meryl
Streep, can do while juggling comedy and tragedy. She is perfectly cast to play
Anne’s unfortunately hilarious baggage of her mood swings, physical
infirmities, and crippling insecurities. It is a treat to see the actress
recognize the opportunity at her hands and thoroughly attack such a plum role.
Colman is both hilarious and heartbreaking as Anne suffers as the pawn moved by
various hands, but she’s surprisingly sympathetic for a Queen so prone to
flattery. Queen Anne wears the weight of her crown in the pressure of upholding
the royal bloodline, as the film reiterates the character’s struggle with 17
lost pregnancies, each of which took a piece of her psyche with it. The
complexity of Anne’s fragile, whacked-out psychology feeds the comedy and
tragedy with equal measures.
The Favourite
finds the perfect metaphor for the cruelties of the court life, both those
imposed by society and those self-inflected, in the band of bunny rabbits that
Anne keeps caged in her room as sad placebos for the princes and princesses she
never bore. These bunnies, named for her lost children, comfort Anne when she
feels the failures of being both the Royal Uterus and the country’s leader. No
matter how hard Abigail and Sarah scheme, they can never replace a mother’s
love for her children. At the same time, the bunnies of the court, be they
Whigs, Tories, Ladies, or whores, are all caught up in a pointless game of
competition. No matter how much favour they curry or how much influence they wield,
they’re all just rabbits in a cage, hopelessly vying for the affection of a
woman who just wants some love.
The Favourite opens in Toronto on Dec. 7.